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When he continued toward the stage area, he noticed both VIP room doors were closed, so he figured they were still locked.
The closer he got to the end of the hallway, the music became louder and the bass thumped more intensely against his chest. While not in view of the stage yet, he could see that most of the club’s interior was dark.
Just as he stepped out into the main area, the song changed to Earned It by The Weeknd, a slow and sultry tune.
A spotlight lit up the stage and caught in that bright beam was a blonde…
Not just any blonde.
Mel. Completely lost in the music. Or in her head.
With her eyes shut and one hand holding the pole above her head, she circled it in a seductive strut by lifting her knees high and keeping her body fluid. The word graceful flitted through his brain.
Her wearing a black fedora was as unexpected as seeing her on stage.
After a sudden spin, she pinned her back to the pole, tipped the hat down and slid down until she was squatting on her heels with her knees spread.
When she slid back up, she removed the hat and whipped it, spun around to face the pole, grabbed it with both hands and arched backward. She was so damn flexible, the ends of her hair, a flowing gold waterfall, almost brushed the floor.
And her outfit…
Sweet baby Jesus. She wasn’t naked, but what she wore was sexy as fuck.
Her black, skin-tight, high-waisted shorts had straps circling the top of her thighs, reminding him of garters. The matching skin-tight black top, at first glance, could be a fancy sports bra, but he never saw one quite as elaborate with four black straps radiating up her chest to meet the one circling her neck like a choker. Another black band hugged her under her breasts and two triangles of what could be spandex barely contained the overflowing ivory flesh.
How her breasts didn’t fall out of that top while she whipped around that pole, like a washing machine set to the spin cycle, before hanging upside down, he didn’t know. But then, there might be a secret to it. One like the elastic bands that kept the Peckers hard while they danced.
The difference between Mel this morning and the women dancing last night was she was barefoot and couldn’t be wearing a stitch of makeup. Her ivory skin had a natural glow and a light sheen of sweat made it glisten under the spotlight.
When her eyes opened, she was still unaware he stood frozen in place, not even a foot past the end of the hallway. He needed to let her know he’d arrived, but he also didn’t want to disturb her. Or his own personal show.
While the dancers last night were good, Mel was perfection. It could be he was a bit biased.
Facing the pole, she slid her arms up until they were stretched above her head as far as she could reach. Once she got a better grip, she shimmied effortlessly all the way to the ceiling. Hooking a single leg around the metal tube and only holding on with one hand, she extended her body out and spun.
Holy fuck.
An insane amount of upper body strength was needed to do some of the moves she was nailing. But then, he’d never seen abs like that on a woman. Not to mention, the powerful thighs that kept her from crashing to the stage and breaking her damn neck.
When she suddenly flipped upside down, only holding on with both legs, his breath seized.
While still inverted, she slid down until her hands met the stage and she did a move he could only call a cartwheel, even though it wasn’t. It reminded him of a leg flip that a gymnast might do.
The woman was the epitome of strength and grace.
He’d been to plenty of strip clubs in the past and while, yes, it took a lot of strength and power to do the job right, a lot of dancers simply didn’t care. They did the “bare” minimum to make their money. Show tits and ass. Flirt with the customers. Maybe sensually play with another dancer to get the men frothing at the mouth.
But some were true athletes. Their core strength insane. Their control spectacular. Their dance moves choreographed carefully. Those were the women who impressed him the most.
Powerful but still feminine.
Beautiful. Athletic. Sensual.
Impressive.
Mel was all of that. And more.
When the song changed to Body Party by Ciara, she whipped around the pole again, gripping it with only one hand and the back of one knee, her blonde hair fanning out around her like a cape caught in the wind. Her back arched and she flung her head back as she continued to circle.
He knew the exact moment she spotted him. A fraction of a second later, she landed hard on her ass with a grunt. He rushed over to the stage to where she was folded over, one hand pressed to her pumping chest and her hair hiding her face.
