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“I know,” I say, “Because I’d break Karl’s legs if he let any girl do more than dance anywhere other than at our hotel. Even there, God helps him if he doesn’t keep the girls safe.” That’s only partly true. I’d beat the shit out of Karl, but I wouldn’t necessarily break his legs. He can’t work if his legs are broken.
“This is the room,” she says. We stop and I point across the hallway.
“This is mine,” I say, “You want me to stand with you when they open the door, let them know you’re not alone?”
“They’re just a bunch of idiot frat boys,” she says, “I think I’ll be okay.”
I nod. “All right. I’ll be across the hall if you need anything, okay. Do me a favor. I’ll wait up. Just knock when you’re done and let me know you’re all right.”
“Okay,” she says. I start for my door, and she says, “Wait! Wait. What’s your name?”
“Adrian,” I say.
“But I want to feel special and think I know things that other girls don’t know so why don’t you tell me your real name?” She giggles and turns around and the sight of her ass in her jeans is pretty damned alluring.
“Hound,” I say.
She turns around with a smile. “That’s what my friends call me,” I say, “And I guess it’s more my name than Adrian is.”
“Well now I feel special,” she says with a flirtatious smile. She knocks on the door, so I turn around and get into my room.
CHAPTER THREE
Sapphire
I recognize the boy who opens the door. He’s in the audience last night, and as I recall, a girl named Chris, who’s called Fantasia at the club, gives him a lap dance and gets a nice tip. “Sapphire,” he says with a smile, “Awesome. Tom didn’t tell us which of you he scheduled.”
“Happy it was me?” I ask, pouring on the charm. The charm is just for tips. Part of the deal is these guys had to pay me ahead of time. The two thousand they paid is in the safe at the club. Well, I guess it’s not just for tips. The boys paid to have a good time and they’re paying well. So, I want them to enjoy themselves. Even if they don’t tip me very well or even at all, this is a very nice payday for me. I’ll give Karl six hundred or, if they tip well, seven or eight hundred. That leaves me plenty.
He opens the door and steps inside. I walk in and the first thing I notice is that there are eleven guys there, which is three more than there are supposed to be. I also notice a hell of a lot of bottles of alcohol. The three guys isn’t really a problem because of how much I’m being paid but seeing almost a dozen-fifths of booze on the dresser is a little concerning. Buzzed guys or even drunk guys at the club when there are bouncers present is a very different thing than buzzed and drunk guys when I’m alone in a hotel room with them. This is part of the reason I hesitate to take this job in the first place.
“I’ll just get ready in the bathroom, boys,” I say with a smile.
They applaud. I don’t know if that means they’re just enthusiastic or if they’ve already had too much to drink. I keep a smile on my face and slip into the bathroom. My heart is racing a little. I don’t feel safe, but the truth is, I don’t really have a good reason for that. It’s not like the boys have done anything different than they might do at a club and who the hell doesn’t drink at a bachelor’s party? I take some deep breaths, strip naked, and then pull on my outfit.
I start with the panties. They’re tiny thong panties and they’re blue, to match my eyes. I pull on sheer black stockings and the black garter belt with straps. The matching black bra goes on next and then I put on a black nylon torso-only bodysuit. It’s completely unnecessary from an outfit perspective but it gives me one more thing to take off. I put on a clingy blue dress next, the same color as the panties and my eyes, and I zip it up. I touch up my makeup, step into my heels, and then put my hair in a ponytail with a black scrunchie I’ll take off first.
The process of getting ready eases my mind a little and I feel more confident as I grab the little boombox and step out of the bathroom. “Okay, boys,” I say, “It’s time for some fun!”
I turn and see them all. Their eyes are glazed with lust, which seems to make sense to me. I don’t know why I feel unnerved.
I start the music and when the song starts to play, I take a breath and sway, letting the music flow through me. This is why I’m good at this. I don’t put on a show, I just let the music take me and the guys see me—the real me, as real as my name. There’s a song that comes out a few years ago about a stripper who makes it rain—meaning she makes a lot of money in tips—because she knows how to get the boys to pay.
I know how to get the boys to pay, and when my dress comes off, it comes off fluidly, a natural progression of the music that plays.
I open my eyes and see the hunger in the boys’ eyes as they watch me. I feel a little less unnerved because their eyes seem—less dead, if that makes sense? They’re no longer glazed over, just hungry. I can deal with hunger.
I sway over to one of the swiveling chairs in the room and move it to the center. “All right,” I say, “Where’s the groom?”
I wait while the boys blink in confusion. Then they chuckle, and one of them says, “Oh yes, the groom. Tom? Come over here.”
The guy who pays for me the night before grins and saunters over to the chair while the others snicker. My blood runs cold as I realize this isn’t really a bachelor party. They just wanted a stripper.
I manage to curtail the fear I feel and keep up the dance. It takes a lot more effort than normal because I’m no longer letting the music flow through me but putting on a show.
The boys don’t mind. They sit in their chairs and watch as I straddle Tom and slowly shimmy out of my body suit. I begin to relax, but when I turn around and straddle Tom in the reverse cowgirl position and take off my bra, I see that several of the boys have their dicks out and are stroking them with varying degrees of intensity as I strip.
My unease turns into alarm. I need to get out of here. I try to hide my fear as I attempt to stand. I smile and say, “All right. Thanks, boys.”
