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Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 01

By: sensanin



Chapter 1 

"Order up!" Jack screamed from the kitchen as if I wasn't standing right in front of him already reaching for the streaming plates. I shot the cook a dirty look before I placed the fiery hot dishes on a tray, plastered on the brightest smile I could muster, and went to work on my second shift. 

My feet ached, I had a migraine the size of Texas, and my ass hurt from guys slapping it so damned often. There were only two pluses to working at a gentleman's club—which was just an upscale strip club—and that was the bigger tips and the camaraderie I shared with my fellow waitresses. 

I pushed open the door to the dining room and lounge area, and gave my eyes a second to adjust to the dimly lit interior. David Banner's Play poured through the speakers throughout the club. On the stage, Billy's newest hire—a leggy blonde nicknamed Nevaeh—stripped off workout clothes on the stage and tongued the handle of a jump rope. I rolled my eyes at the g-string she sported under her jogging pants. Yeah, because every time I go to the gym, I make sure to wear a hot pink thong. Nothing says comfort like butt floss. 

I moved down the steps to my section, and stopped in front of a table of office drones. "Here boys," I whispered in a voice I hoped sounded sultry and not hoarse. "Be careful, they're hot." 

The men eyed my breasts as I passed out the plates, which was great. If they'd seen my face, I was sure to get a shitty tip. I was getting over a cold, and working a double had pretty much made it come back full force. Runny nose, watery eyes, and sweat pouring off me like a fat man in a sauna was not the most attractive thing to see. Thank god for my 3Ds—Double D Distractions. 

I winked at the men as they dug into the feast of steaks and fish. Tucking the tray under my arm, I cast a quick glance at the people in my section. Needs more water. Another scotch. Need to check in on them, and— 

"Lauren," Billy huffed as he hurried up to me. 

The sick feeling in my stomach increased, but for a completely different reason than my cold. Billy was the owner, and he was just as sleazy as the movies depicted. Anything he wanted from me wasn't good. 

"Yeah?" 

He dabbed at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. "Sparkle called in sick, and that means we're short three girls." 

"Well, it is that time of the year." I stopped myself from flat out running to the kitchen only because I was sure I'd break my ankles in my heels. 

A meaty hand clasped my shoulder and spun me around. "I need you to do it. You're the only one who fits Sparkle's costume." 

And I wasn't proud of that. 

Sure, other girls would be over the moon to be a size six, but I hated it. I'd been a solid 14 all my life, and only lost weight for my wedding. Then Durell ran off and stole all my money, I'd lost the apartment we'd worked so hard to create, and my job fired me for making mistake after mistake. Now, working three jobs, eating was a luxury and an expensive one at that. 

"No way, Billy." I pushed away from him and continued to the kitchen, slowing down as carpet gave way to smooth tile. "I'm not taking off my clothes. Go ask Tif." 

He snorted. "Tif couldn't fit into the outfit if she tried. And it's hardly taking your clothes off." 

"Nipple tassels are not clothes." 

"Lauren." He placed a hand over top of mine when I reached for the pitcher of water. "I need you." 

"No." 

"I'll pay you double." 

"No." 

"Triple." 

I shrugged off his hand and filled a cup with water. "You deaf, Billy? I said no." 

Moving away from the drink area, I took a shortcut through a set of cafe doors to the bar. "Triple, and next weekend off. Final offer." 

That stopped me. When was the last time I had a weekend off? Six months ago for my wedding. I mentally snorted. But still . . . 

Careful that water didn't slosh over the sides of the glass, I turned and regarded Billy. "One night." 

"Fine," he agreed quickly, reaching forward and taking the water from me. 

"And you'll let me keep any money I make on stage." 

"Of course." 

"And I get Monday off too." 

"Now wait—" 

"Do you want to make it Monday and Tuesday?" 

He wiped his brow again and shot me a dirty look. "If I didn't need you, Lauren . . ." 

"Do we have a deal?" I wiped my hand on my micro mini and shoved it out. 

He looked at the appendage before shaking it. "Deal. But you better shake that ass good for all the money I'm paying for it." 

Chapter 2 

"I knew this was a bad idea," I muttered under my breath as I sprayed a cloud of hairspray and teased my limp tendrils. 

Red caught my gaze in the mirror. "Huh?" 

I motioned to the too tight corset and just-covering-up-my-areolas nipple tassels. "I don't know how Sparkle can wear this. I can barely breathe and my boobs smack me in the face every time I move." 

The burlesque ensemble might entice some men, but the heels were one step away from being on the same list of banned torture methods as waterboarding, and the underwear was just a half cut saltine with string. There had to be easier ways to make a couple hundred in a few hours, though all the ways I could think of were illegal. I caught my reflection and grimaced. Maybe illegal wasn't so bad. 

Red ran a makeup remover cloth over her face. "Ya get used to it, Lauren." She paused and glanced over her shoulder at me. "What's your stage name going to be?" 

I hadn't even thought of one. Candy, Sugar, and Cherry were all taken, leaving very few desserts left. I went to the gems. Already had a Sapphire, Ruby, and Amethyst. "Pearl?" 

"Nah. That chick nine weeks ago was named Pearl remember? Did that weird thing on stage where she pour, like, marshmallow fluff on her chest or something." 

"No," I said slowly. "Must have missed that night." 

There were always weird chicks coming in. They'd strip a few times then leave or get fired. Some only wanted to work the back room, some thought their tits were worth more than a few hundred because their stripper friend at one club or another pulled in thousands a night. I'd seen more girls leave than stay, but the ones who did stay were usually the ones who had no alternative. 

Smacking her lips together, Red started to do her face again, this time in darker shades. Her next set was a dominatrix number. "What about Precious?" 

"Reminds me too much of the movie." 

"Jasmine?" 

"Disney Princess." 

She huffed as she pulled out a M.A.C. paint pot and slathered glittering black on her lids. "Got anything better or you just going to shoot down all my ideas?" 

Since I wasn't going to do this again, I didn't really see the point in a name. They could just call me "Tits" for all I cared—it was what half the guys did anyway. "How bout—achoo!" I sneezed all over the counter and mirror, making Red jump about three feet in the air. 

"Jesus, Lauren!" She pressed a hand to her naked breasts. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." 

I squirmed uncomfortably as something wet settled between my legs. Great, I peed a little. 

Mikey, our sound and lights guy, popped his head in the girls' dressing room and glanced around. "You okay, ladies? Sounded like a dude sneezed back here." 

I threw my feather boa at him. "Oh, shut up." 

He laughed and caught the flimsy projectile before it fell five feet from him. "You can't throw worth shit, Lauren. You ready to go?" 

No, I'd never be ready. The woman reflected in the mirror looked sultry and sexy. Heavy smoky eyes, rouge stained lips and cheeks, perky breasts, and the kind of small waist and wide hips hourglasses envied. But my worried brown eyes were the only things I couldn't hide. Thank god no one would be looking at my eyes. 

"Guess so." I slapped my hands on my hip and carefully got out of the chair. My toothpick heels teetered and my arms flailed for a second. "Whoa!" 

"Be careful," Red said, rushing to my side. She leant me her shoulder for support and I stared into overly blue contact lenses. "Look, Lauren. All you need to do is shimmy, blow a few kisses, and straddle the pole. Feel like you're going to fall? Start crawling." 

"Like a baby?" 

Mikey chimed in, "A sexy baby." 

Red ignored him and stared hard at me. "If you don't think you can get up again in those shoes, make a show of taking them off. Feel sexy and you can make anything look hot." 

I kept that in mind as I carefully walked to Mikey and leaned heavily on him. He half carried me up the short set of stairs to the back area of the stage. 

"Think you'll be okay?" he asked. 

"I'll be fine once it's over." 

"Fair enough." He left me near the entrance to the stage and went to the electronic board where he controlled everything. A quick check of the equipment and then he grabbed the microphone. "What's your name?" 

Ugh, I'd never thought of one. "Uh, Mercy." 

He raised a brow. "I can work with that." 

My breathing was shallow, heart racing. Oh, shit. I was really going to do this. Walk on stage, shake my goodies, and crawl around for money. My tombstone would read: here lies Lauren Eckles, dumped at the altar and one time stripper. 

"Ready?" Mikey asked. 

I nodded and shivered all over. "Weekend off. Monday off. Weekend off. Monday off," I chanted like a prayer. 

"Gentlemen and ladies, welcome to the Hickery Dickery Cock," he crooned over the microphone. "I hope you all are having a nice night. Now, I want you all to get on your knees and beg for our newest dancer Mercy!"

Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 02



Deok-su liked America as much as the next foreigner—not at all. The streets were dirty, the people crude, and the language like sandpaper to his ears. But he was a businessman. The money went to the US, and he followed the money. 

"So, Korean, huh?" Mark Lemair nodded to him from across the boardroom table. "My daughter's obsessed with those, uh—what are they called? Like Dramas or something. Thunder or Snow starred on one of them. Full House, I think it was. Had to watch an episode with her. I nearly killed myself." 

It was only the third thing Lemair had said to him, and the insult couldn't have been delivered any better. Deok-su smiled tightly at the man, the millionaire man with a million dollar business and the class of a cockroach. Reports said he inherited the business after the mysterious death of his father and older brother. Mysterious wasn't quite the right word though, he was positive the man had flat-out murdered his family. 

"Rain," Deok-su corrected the American. "His name is Bi-Rain, and you're right, the show was Full House." 

"You watch it?" 

"No." He shook his head. "My sister." 

"Oh." 

Deok-su looked around the boardroom. The room was large but simple. The table, chairs, and large flatscreen the only pieces of furniture. Two pitchers of water, a triangular speakerphone, and two contracts sat on the overly long mahogany table. From Deok-su's line of sight was a framed, blown-up picture of an apple. And he knew that Lemair's side showed the New York skyline. Usually it would be reversed, the active city a distraction so that the negotiator could slip something into the contract that shouldn't be there. But the young CEO didn't know those rules. 

"I think the lawyers must have gotten the time wrong," Lemair said after a second. "Let me check with Suzie." The man turned in his chair and yelled "Suzie" loud enough to shake the pitchers of water. 

A buxom Latina woman sashayed into the room with a skirt that just covered her ass and a shirt that strained to hold the few buttons she had in place. "Yes, Mr. Lemair?" 

"The lawyers were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Where are they?" 

She scrunched up her brows and whipped out her phone. A quick series of tap tap tap and then her eyes widened and she worried her glossy bottom lip between her teeth. "They should be here soon, sir." 

"How soon?" 

"Five o'clock." 

Lemair exploded from his chair. "What?" 

The secretary teetered back on her high heels. "I, um, got the time wrong. I thought you told me to schedule it for eight." 

"Why would I ever ask you to schedule a meeting that late? The office closes at six." 

"I don't know. I just—" 

He waved his hand and cut her off. "Get the lawyers on the phone and tell them you fucked up. Get them here. Now. Unless you want to keep Mr. Park waiting." 

The woman looked at Deok-su quickly, before her eyes returned to her employer. "No, sir. Right away, sir." She scurried out of the door with far less sashaying. 

Lemair fell back into his chair and swiveled to Deok-su. "Sorry about that." 

Americans. "Not at all." 

"You speak English really good," Lemair commented. "Where'd you learn?" 

The need to correct the other man's grammar rode him hard, but he subdued it. He needed this account. "Here. My parents wanted me to have an American education. I studied Business and Finance at Princeton." 

"Oh yeah? I'm a Harvard man myself." 

And Deok-su bet it was because of a brand new building on campus donated by the Lemair corporation at the same time Mark Lemair applied. Would the building be five stories or six? Of course, it'd have new computers, state of the art system. Engineering or Computer Science? 

The glass door swung open once more and the secretary arrived, bright red and flustered. "Mr. Lemair, I have some bad news." 

"The lawyers died," the man said flatly. 

"No, no, no. Um . . ." she dithered. "The lawyers can make it earlier." 

"Great. And the bad news?" 

"Tomorrow." She winced as his expression changed from mild anger to full blown fury. "I, um, had it set for the wrong date . . . and time." 

Lemair opened his mouth to say something he would likely regret, but the secretary rushed on, "I'm fixing it. It'll be fixed. I'll just go fix that." 

The room was silent for a while after the secretary left, and then Lemair sighed gustily, ran a hand through his hair, tugged off his tie, and turned to Deok-su. "I'm exhausted. You exhausted? How 'bout we head to a strip club?" 

Of all the . . . "Mr. Lemair, I do not think it would be wise—" 

"Oh, come on," he cajoled. "My treat. You'll love it. Ever been to a strip club?" 

"Yes." And he'd hated it. 

"Not like the Hickery Dickery Cock." 

"I'd rather not." 

"I'll have to insist," Lemair bit off, his professional smile tightening. "And come on. My treat." 

Only in America. Only in America would a business meeting to discuss a 605 million dollar merger be pushed aside for half-clothed women and alcohol. 

For a second, Deok-su considered leaving, walking out and letting his company's president know that he couldn't do it. But the failure left him with a bad taste in his mouth. Against his better half, he heard himself say, "Let me get my coat." 

Chapter Four 

"Hey, Dick, what are the strip clubs like in Korea?" Lemair asked as they flashed their IDs at the bouncer of the Hickery Dickery Cock and went through a red velvet curtain to the dark interior of the club. 

Deok-su grimaced, the butchering of his name like a knife to the gut. "Not like this." 

Lemair tossed a glance over his shoulder as the curtains behind them settled and the dark interior of the club became more pronounced. "Like what?" 

"It's a dance club. Very loud music, flashing lights, and crowds of people," he explained as they made their way into a strip club that was opposite his explanation in almost everyway. "The women rarely show their breasts, though they dress the same. The performance, the raunchiness—that is what matters." 

He stopped when it was obvious Lemair wasn't listening, his eyes fixed on a blonde on stage dancing to a smooth R&B track. A crimson mask covered half her face while tight leather cut in strategic places clothed her body. There was a whip in her hands, and a man sitting in a chair on stage with her. 

Lemair nudged Deok-su with his elbow and nodded to the woman on stage. "That's Candy. You like her? I'll have her come give you a lap dance." 

God no. He shuddered, but forced a smile. Lemair was a contract, walking, talking banknotes. "Thank you for the offer, but no. My fiance wouldn't approve." Especially since she didn't exist. 

The young American shrugged as a white woman in a skimpy black skirt and tight black t-shirt came up to them. "Mark, baby. Long time no see," she said with a pout. "Where ya been?" 

"Around." 

"Ya know, Billy's still fucking pissed you stole Suzie from us." 

He snorted and cast a glance around the club. "Might have to give her back now." 

"She not working out." 

"Can't do shit. Uh, office work wise." 

"I'm good at that. Worked at my dad's office for a summer filing contracts, booking appointments, and stuff." 

Lemair turned back to the blonde, and very slowly trailed his eyes up her body. "Oh yeah?" 

She leaned closer, and Deok-su could practically see the hunger in her eyes, the desperation. "Yeah." 

Deok-su watched as Lemair leaned close to the girl's ear, whispered something, then drew back. She nodded slowly, and then turned around. "This way, gentlemen." 

Finally. The sooner the night began, the sooner it would be over. He needed to review the contract one more time, if only for his state of mind. Deok-su was a perfectionist, which automatically made him a hard worker. He loved his job, felt validated in his position with the company, but there'd been stress on his shoulders recently. Stress in the form of a five foot three woman who whined at him to "find a wife and start making babies—my grandchildren." His mother had set him up on seon meetings, but most of the women had been gently bred young ladies who hoped to stay home, raise children, and spend his money. He wanted a partner, not a wife. 

"Here we are," the waitress chirped as she gestured to a half moon booth close to the stage. Lemair slid in one side as Deok-su took the other. "And I know you want scotch, Mark," she added with a quick smile. "What would you like, Sir?" 

"Water." 

"Come on, man!" Lemair groaned. "Get something good. First round's on me." 

He wanted soju but doubted they had it. "Whiskey sour. Neat." 

The girl's eyes widened slightly at his words. "Oh, uh, okay." She blinked and then scrambled to hand the menus she'd picked up on the way. "Here's a menu, and the special of the night is . . ." 

She prattled on, but Deok-su failed to pay attention. Instead, he scoped out the club and its patrons. The interior was nice, all dark wood with burgundy leather booths. A dark carpet that looked almost black stretched the length of the room, stopping at the stage taking up one wall of the club. It was a long stage with three poles on it, shaped like a bubbled I. They sat on one of the insides of the I, close enough to reach out and touch the silver monstrosity. 

Music poured from the speakers, not loud enough to be deafening, but he did have to raise their voice an octave or two to be heard. The place was a decent size, not too big or small, and obviously catered to a specific clientele. Despite his reservations, Deok-su could understand why a man would like it. 

"You doin' okay?" Lemair asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Deok-su turned back to the man and set his elbow on the smooth tabletop. "Yes. I was just looking around." 

"Nice, isn't it." 

"Hmm, very. I can see the appeal." 

"Well, that's not all you'll be seeing," Lemair laughed. 

The waitress came back with the drinks, saving him from having to respond to Lemair's crudeness. "Thank you," he said as she set the drink down and stuffed the tray under her arm. She reached into the apron around her hips, one that blended in perfectly with her skirt—was her skirt? He wasn't sure. 

"You both know what you're going to have?" 

He hadn't even looked at the menu. "What would you suggest?" 

"Depends on what you like. We make a really good steak here, but if you're vegetarian, I'd go for the lasagna." 

"Steak sounds fine," Deok-su said, passing the woman the menu. 

"How would you like it?" 

"Well-done." 

She jotted the order down and shifted to Lemair. The man shrugged and passed her the menu. "I'll have the same thing, except medium." 

She wrote it down, nodded, and left. There was a lull in the conversation before Lemair decided to speak again, "You know you're really uptight." 

Deok-su internally cringed, unable to respond. Thankfully, a new stripper saved him—and his job—from what could have been the beginning of a very bad conversation. " . . . get on your knees and beg for our newest dancer Mercy!" the announcer roared as a woman in heavy make up, high heels, and a corset carefully walked on stage. 

Moulin Rouge poured through the speakers as she sashayed down the aisle, reaching out and swinging herself around the pole whenever it got close. Almost immediately, she got on the ground and started crawling. 

What the hell is she doing? Amused, he watched the woman spread her legs, lift her foot, and try to take off her shoes. The move was awkward and the flirtatious smiles she threw the audience only made it worse. 

"Fuck, she's bad," Lemair complained. 

She is, but it's . . . cute. It was the way she tried too hard to make everything look sexy and failed utterly at it that made her . . . well, sexy. 

"I think I'm getting soft," Lemair whined. "She's making me soft." 

"Shut up," he barked at the man, eyes still on the striper who'd finally gotten those damned heels off. 

She smiled triumphantly as they clattered to the stage, then quickly scrambled up and tried to play it off my removing the feather boa around her neck. She tossed the thing into the crowd, but it only made it as far as the edge of the stage before limply slithering over the side and onto the floor. 

Deok-su laughed as she forced herself to continue. Someone yelled, "Take it off!" and she stopped for a second, looked down at herself, looked back up, and then slowly rolled down a stocking. The resounding boo she received from the crowd made him chuckle and the stripper blush. 

She reached for the pole in the center of the I stage, and spun herself around three times. Than she did a quick shimmy, a squat, and twirled again. But on the last go around she stopped, held one hand up to he face and sneezed. 

The club went quiet as the woman teetered precariously on the stage, her face to Deok-su, eyes wide, arms flailing, lips parted, but she caught herself. He could hear the stripper's sigh of relief as she once again reached for the pole. But her nylon-clad foot slipped, and instead of catching the pole with her hand, she did it with her head. In an almost cartoonish display, she slammed her face into the pole, bounced off, and turned her body as she fell, arms flailing, with a slew of curses pouring from her lips. 

Deok-su would have felt bad for the stripper—did feel bad. But a small part of him was excited too, because the woman fell right into his lap.



Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 03



Chapter Five 

I knew the instant I'd been right, and that stripping was the worst thing I ever agreed to. It was the same moment I fell off stage into a pervy guy's lap. Well, maybe he wasn't pervy, but any guy at a strip club wasn't the type to bring home to mom. 

"God, why did I do this?" I groaned under my breath, rubbing the forming lump on my head. I'd look like a unicorn in the morning, which would suck because I'd be looking for a new job. 

"Are you alright?" the man whose lap I'd fallen into asked in a thick Asian accent. The club got a lot of Chinese business men, and while they tipped well, they were also the most perverse ones. 

I pushed away from the guy, but my hand slipped from his chest and landed on his crotch. No! My fingers curled as I tried to snatch them away, and I felt him swell in response to the inadvertent caress. He was bigger than I expected. 

Stripper and pervert. That's what my tombstone would read. "I'm so sorry!" I gushed, scrambling out of his lap and onto the cool, sticky floor. 

Billy's meaty hand clasped my shoulder a second before I got a good look at the man I'd fallen into and assaulted. "Jesus Christ, Lauren!" my boss whispered angrily, pushing me back toward the stage. "Finish the number then get back into the dressing room." 

Finish it? I tried not to think about what I was doing as I crawled back on stage. The music was loud enough to distract me from the boos and angry shouts from most of the audience, but not from Billy's disgruntled apology. 

"She's new," my boss explained as I mechanically worked the pole and tried desperately to hold back tears. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you? How 'bout a lap dance on the house?" 

"It's fine," the stranger assured in that thick accent again, each letter in each word pronounced perfectly. "As long as she is all right, that's all that matters." 

Thankfully, the song ended quickly and I was able to retreat to the curtains at the back of the stage. Red stood there, ready for her number, suppressing a grin. "You okay, Lauren?" 

"I can't even—" I shook my head as tears leaked down my face. Damnit, I will not cry! Not here. Not now, I swore to myself as I angrily dashed them away and smeared foundation all over my black satin gloves. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Red soothed, wrapping her arms around me. I planted my face in her boobs—not that I had a choice—and took as deep a breath as I could. "It was your first time. It wasn't that bad." 

"No, it was worse." 

"I've seen worse, Lauren." She grimaced. "You didn't spill hot soup over some dudes crotch or kick another person in the face. Falling into some guy's lap doesn't even chart on my top ten worst performances." 

I sniffed as Mikey voice filtered through the stereos, announcing Red's act. "Billy's going to fire me." 

She scoffed, "No he's not. Trust me." The wailing of Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry roared over the club, a signal for Lauren to get her ass on stage. She pulled back and clapped my shoulders. "I gotta go. But seriously, don't beat yourself up. We'll have a drink later, we'll laugh, and you'll see it's not that bad." 

I watched her stride on stage in six inch heels and black leather, arms raised, brilliant smile on her face. "This night could not get any worse," I muttered before I could think better of it. My parents had been firm believers that telling the universe it couldn't do something was just asking for trouble. 

"Red's right, you know." Mikey came around the sound booth, slung an arm over my shoulders, and started to navigate me back down the steps to the dressing room. "Billy's not going to fire you." 

"Billy fired Angelica for getting a Tom Collins mixed up with a Shirley Temple." 

"No. He fired her because she was an idiot and tried to sleep with his son." 

"Daniel? The sixteen year old?" 

"You mean, Daniel the football player who's graduating high school way early and going to college on a full ride because he's smart and athletic." 

"It's still gross." 

"Never said it wasn't." 

I knew that Mikey was trying to distract me from the hot mess I'd fallen into, and I appreciated it. But I also knew that it was only a matter of time before Billy came marching down the hallway to chew my ass out. Last week he'd told Sapphire, "I don't care if you have to suck him 'til his balls turn blue. Fix it!" and all she'd done is pop the cherry in her vagina into some dude's eyes instead of his mouth. 

Mikey stopped at the entrance to the dressing room and leaned against the doorjamb. "Thinking's always the worst, Lauren." 

"Pretty sure the hearing someone yell at you part is the worst." I plopped down on the seat in front of Sparkle's station and glanced at myself in the mirror. Part of my makeup was smeared, and most of it was melting off. I'd never been good at putting on the stuff. Why some people wanted to stick things close to their eyeballs and spend hours contouring and highlighting and all that crap amazed me. But then I remembered how I'd looked twenty minutes ago, and got the appeal. 

Turning in my chair, I made a shooing motion at Mikey with my hands. "Go on. I have to change." 

He held up his hands in surrender as he walked away. "I'm going. I'm going." 

Once he was gone I turned back around and busied myself with tidying up. I wiped off my face with a makeup removing cloth, straightened Sparkle's station, and checked the damage on the satin gloves. It was what I'd done when I'd found out about Durrell and my sister and my empty bank account. The milk was spilled, dripping on the floor, soaking into the floor boards. It wasn't ever getting back in the cup, and crying and screaming about it wasn't going to change anything. So I'd stayed busy, except overworking had its pitfalls too. My body had settled into a rhythm and detached from my mind, letting my thoughts roam free. And that's where the real problem lay. Thoughts turned to fantasies, fantasies to "I wish-es," "I wonder-eds," and "what ifs." Where I would be right at this moment if Durrell hadn't gotten my sister pregnant and run off? 

We'd probably still be married, had our biggest fight already and survived it, found out I was pregnant, celebrated him finally getting a promotion, maybe taken a weekend off to the Poconos. Six months of normal bliss, instead of crappy reality. A reality where I lost my job, ended up waitressing (and striping) at a gentleman's club, and strained an already tenuous relationship with my parents for refusing to talk to my sister and my ex-fiance who was now her husband. 

"Lauren!" Billy burst through the door, making me jump out of my seat and mental pity party. 

Scrambling up from the chair, I met him face-to-face. If he was going to fire me, he was going to look me in the eyes as he did it. "Yes." 

He scowled. "Where's your makeup? You're doing a lap dance." 

My face paled and the hastily eaten turkey sandwich in my stomach turned to lead. "No, I'm not." 

"Oh, yes, you fucking are," he growled, dabbing at his brow with an already drenched handkerchief. "No bargaining this time. Put on some makeup and head to the Cognac room." 

"I don't fuck—" 

"I don't care what you do and don't do, Lauren!" Billy yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth and hitting my chest. "Now hurry the fuck up!" 

In that moment I cursed the universe and every single deity. 

Chapter Six 

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God" had been my chant for the last minute as I paced around the small dressing room. 

Lap dance? I couldn't even strip! Worrying my lip between my teeth, I wondered if it had something to do with me accidentally grabbing crotch. Did he think I was making a pass at him? That I wanted to fuck him? 

The thought of having some perverted Asian dude's cock near me made me gag. Physically, violently gag. 

"What the hell happened?" Red asked as she strode into the room, sweat glistening off her flushed skin. "Are you sick? Uh-uh. Go to the bathroom, Lauren. Don't throw up here." 

I sobered down to mild dry heaves and then rattling hiccups and glared at her. "Little—hiccup—help would be—hiccup—nice." 

Blowing out a sigh, Red squatted down next to me and rubbed circles over my back. "Billy really did fire you." 

I shook my head as I closed my mouth, pinched my nose, and tried to starve the hiccups out. 

"Then what happened?" 

After a count of fifteen and no hiccup, I slowly let out the breath. "He wants me to do a lap—hiccup." I swore viciously and held my breath again. 

Red's hand stilled on my back. "A lap dance?" she asked incredulously. 

I nodded. 

She removed her hand and climbed to her feet. "See, you're not fired and you got off easy." 

"Easy?" I gasped. 

"Yeah," she said as she sat in her chair and began to take off her make up. "Easy." 

"I think our definitions are off. 'Easy' would be cleaning the cum off the dining room chairs. This is the definition of hard." 

She shrugged, totally unconcerned with my plight. And why should she be? This was her job. A day she wasn't giving some pervy dude a lap dance would probably be something new. 

The thought only made me feel crummy and over privileged. Pushing up from the ground, I awkwardly rubbed my arms and watched her meticulously take off her make up. "Is there something I should do for the lap dance?" 

"Not really." 

Biting my lip, I tried again. "I mean is there something you'd—" 

"It's fine, Lauren," she said, cutting me off. "I know you don't respect what I do and I'm fine with that. You walk around here like you're better than this place. I thought stripping, seeing how the other half lives, would make you see things differently. It didn't. That's fine. Let's move on." 

"Hey! I do respect you." 

Her movements were jerky, angry. "Save it." 

She was right. A part of me that wondered why she did it. She was smart and could get a job somewhere else. Why here? Why was I here and why was she here? And did being here make us failures? 

The questions always loomed close to the surface—when I was around my family especially. All I could think about was Durrell and the life we could have been living instead of coping with the life I had and being grateful for it. 

"I'm sorry." I took a step toward her when she didn't immediately respond. "I'm serious, Red. Dick move on my part, I get that. You're awesome. You dance in six inch stilettos while men throw money at you and make it look effortless. If I had half your guts I wouldn't be so insecure in my own skin." 

She paused in taking off her makeup and I held my breath. I couldn't believe I'd just said that. It was all absolutely true, but I'd never told anyone about my insecurities, much less admitted them out loud. But the night was a strange one, and I was suffering from a cold that was kicking my ass seven ways to Seoul. The world wasn't exactly operating on all its axes for me right now. 

Red set her makeup remover cloth down gently and turned to face me. "I think that's the first genuine thing you've said all night." 

"Maybe all week," I admitted. 

She smiled softly, and crossed her long legs. "I do make it look effortless, don't I?" 

"Completely." 

A smile skirted across Red's lips, before she pushed back her shoulders and zoomed in on me. Moving her finger, she nodded to me. "Give us a twirl." 

Smirking, I did as she wanted, adding a curtsey at the end. She nodded appreciatively. "You've got a fat ass, use it. Grind on him as hard as you can. When you face him, try to push your breasts together and up, it'll make them look bigger than they really are. Don't make too much eye contact, just enough to let him know you like him looking at you." 

"And if I don't?" 

"Stripping is a performance, like any other artform. You're not Lauren when you're on stage or working some guy's lap, you're whatever he wants you to be. Watch his expressions, stay tuned to those subtle nuances." 

She made is sound way more hard than I'd thought it'd be. "Okay. So minimal eye contact, lots of grinding, and figuring out his fantasy." 

"Pretty much." 

Someone banged on the door causing both Red and I to jump. "Today, Lauren!" Billy yelled. 

Wasn't Hell supposed to be lined with glitter and gold? I wondered why my path was lined with condom wrappers, years old gum, and mystery puddles. As Billy led me to the Cognac room I had about a million tiny heart attacks, and every how-do-I-get-out-of-here thought. Pull the fire alarm. Trip and break my ankle. Faint. 

The walk was too short though and I wasn't able to enact any of my plans. Billy turned on his heel and looked me over. "Christ! Didn't I tell you to fix yourself?" 

Fix myself? "I look fine." 

"Ya look like shit." 

I glared at him, the Lauren before she'd fallen off stage stripping coming back in full force. "You want me to go in there and give a guy a lap dance or what? I'm pretty sure he won't be looking at my face." 

"That mouth, Lauren," Billy said with a head shake, his Brooklyn accent thickening until it was almost indiscernible, "is what's gonna get you somewhere you really don't want to be someday." 

"And I thought my dream was to give lap dances in the back of strip clubs." I pushed past him and opened the door to the Cognac room. Sex on Fire purred through the speakers of the dark room, bouncing off the brown leather sectional pushed up against the mahogany paneling, and than absorbing into the red velvet drapes all around the room. It took my eyes a second to adjust and when they did, I noticed a man sitting in the corner booth, back straight, eyes fixed on me, a grimace on his face. 

You can do this, Lauren, I told myself. You just stripped. You can do this. 

With far less nerves than I had on the stage, I sashayed into the room, realizing at the last second I was shoeless with only one stocking. No Problem there. When I was within distance of the booth, I placed my foot right between the Asian man's legs and started to roll down my lone stocking. He flinched at the action. 

"Mercy?" he asked tentatively. 

Stripper name. Right. "Yeah," I purred, swallowing the cough itching its way up my throat. 

"How are you feeling?" 

The question threw me way off guard and my foot slipped and knocked into his thigh. "Sorry!" 

"It's fine." 

Nodding, I straightened and smoothed my hands down the front of my corset. "So, you want a lap dance?" I mentally rolled my eyes. No, he wants some pie. 

There was a long pause before he spoke again, "Not particularly." 

Oh. "Oh." 

"The owner said you were new," he started, gesturing to the space beside him. "Is that new to the club or to the profession?" 

Letting out a sigh I hadn't realized I'd been holding, I sat down beside him. Not close enough to touch, but just enough to feel his heat and catch a whiff of his cologne. Something like fresh sap and bergamot. I crossed my ankles, trying to sit as if I had on an ankle length dress instead of a corset and a pair of nearly see-through undies. "Actually, I'm just a substitute. One of the girls was sick tonight and I'm the only one who fit into her costume. I'm a waitress at the club." 

He shifted his body toward me, and folded his hands in his lap. Intelligent eyes stared straight into mine, extremely focused. "Have you been doing it long? The waitressing, I mean." 

"Nearly three months." I shrugged. "I was fired from my last job because of personal issues that kept me from doing my work efficiently." 

"What was your last job?" 

A conversation was the last thing I'd expected to have, especially not in the Cognac room. What was the guy's game? "I was an event planner. Specifically, marketing event planner." 

His eyes widened, but I couldn't see his other facial expressions in the dim light. "Marketing event . . . planner," he said slowly. 

"Yup." 

"Can you give me an example?" 

Okay, now I was getting seriously weirded out. This felt a lot more like an interview than a lapdance, and it wasn't like I'd been the top event planner in New York or something. I'd been at a small firm that catered to family owned businesses looking to revamp their image with a large party and a lot of non-profits who'd wanted to raise money. 

"I'm sorry—and correct me if I'm wrong—but you did request a lap dance, right?" 

He leaned away and shifted defensively, his accent thickening. "That is correct." 

"But you don't want one?" 

"I wouldn't mind one," he began, "but it isn't expressly the reason I wanted you back here." 

That sounded a little too serial killer for me. I rose and started to move away from him. "Look, whatever sick game you want to play, I'm done. Stalkers aren't my cup of tea." 

He rose a second after me as if drawn up by a string. "Excuse me?" 

The darkness was annoying me. Striding across the room, I flipped on the light switch and blinked rapidly as the room came into view. Ugh, no wonder the lights were off; someone desperately needed to clean up. Chancing a glance up, I looked at the Asian man and nearly choked. He was . . . hot. 

Silky black hair was cut close to his head with a small cowlick in the front that fell over his left eye. His face wasn't small and petite like I thought it would be and he didn't look androgynous. Strong chin, defined cheek bones, tilted eyes that were slightly bigger. A suit stretched over his body, navy blue and crisp, accessorized with shiny black oxfords and cufflinks. The jacket was open, revealing a pressed white shirt that reflected minute silver stripes in the light. He didn't wear a tie, and a patch of smooth, pale skin was displayed. The guy wasn't skinny or super short. If I'd still been in my heels we'd probably have been eye level, but as it was I had to tilt my head to look at him. 

"Something you want to say?" 

My eyes snapped to his, a pretty shade of brown with a flare of beige close to his iris. Everything about the guy appealed to me, and considering I'd 1) sworn off men until Durrell paid me or their was a second coming of Jesus Christ, and 2) Asian men had never particularly interested me, that said a lot. 

"Your face." No wonder I graduated magna cum laude, I was brilliant! "What I mean is you don't look like what I'd thought you'd look . . . like . . . ." The sentence trailed off, spinning with my other inanities in the world. 

Forcing my eyes closed, I squeezed them tight and thought about where I was, what I was wearing, and why I'd been called here. He hadn't paid for conversation but a lap dance, and even if that wasn't what he wanted, I'd feel a hell of a lot better if that was all we did. 

"Lights on or off?" I asked, eyes still closed. 

There was a scuttling sound, and I think he moved closer to me. "I'm sorry?" 

I forced my tone to sound professional, "I understand that you would like to talk to me, but you paid for a lap dance. I'm not inclined to give you anything more than what you paid for." 

"What I paid for," he said slowly again. I got the impression it wasn't because he didn't understand what I was saying, but rather he was figuring out his response. 

My eyes popped open when I caught his scent again, and I nearly took a step back. The guy was very close to invading my five feet of personal space. There were cameras in the room, and I knew that if the man tried anything, security would break this door down and have me out before I could scream help. But I didn't want to scream help, I didn't feel like I was in danger. 

"A lap dance," I supplied, unconsciously wetting my lips. "You paid for a lap dance." 

A smile curled the sides of his lips. "It was free." 

"Regardless, lights on or off?" 

His eyes widened slightly. "You're really going to do this?" 




Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 03



"I really am." 

"Is talking to me so bad that you'd prefer to take off your clothes." 

Well when he put it that way . . . "One," I began, ticking off my fingers, "I will not be taking off my clothes. And two, I don't know you. So yeah, I'd rather grind on your lap than tell you my hopes and dreams." 

Tension ferried between us, thickening with the seconds. Finally he nodded curtly, spun on his heel, and went to sit back on the couch. "Lights off, please." 

The song had changed to Angel of the Small Death and the Codeine Scene—one of Mickey's new favorites. Hozier's beginning "Hmm, m-hmm, hmm" floated around the room like the revving of an engine. Breathing out a sigh that wasn't quite relief and held a heavy tinge of disappointment, I reached behind me and flipped the light switch off.



Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 04



Hey everyone! 

I'm so glad everyone likes Stripper Heels! This will be the last part in the first book. Please feel free to check out my other Lit submissions and my Lit profile page. Message me if you have any questions or feedback. 

Best 

Rosi 

*** 

Chapter Seven 

Feisty. That was the only word Deok-su could use to describe the woman in front of him. Feisty and beautiful. 

He wasn't sure what attracted him to her, or why when the owner had offered him a free lap dance Mercy had been the only name to slip off his tongue. Black women had never attracted him, and doubly so with the attitude she seemed to dole out in spades. She was lovely, there was no question about that, but it was more than just looks. 

Perhaps Lemair spiked my drink with something. Deok-su came to this conclusion as the room was flooded in darkness and a deep voiced musician floated like perfume through the air. He watched the waitress-turned-temporary stripper breathe in deeply before walking over to him again. This time though, the trepidation he'd felt from her was gone. She walked like a woman on a mission, fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides, back straight, eyes wide and focused. 

"Mercy," he whispered, unsure if she heard her name or not. And even if she did, he doubted she'd take notice. It was obviously a stage name, and Deok-su found himself wondering what her real name was. 

The woman got close to him and leaned down to plant a hand on either side of his hips. Her breath tickled his ear. "Have you ever had a lap dance?" 

Not like this. Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the cracked and stained booth. Every hair he had was on edge, attuned to the slightest movement from the woman above him. Her heat surrounded him, her peppermint scent cooling him slightly. "No." 

She pulled back and he felt the space on either side of him shift. "This'll be a new experience for both of us then," she murmured, placing her hands on his knees and spreading his legs. 

Would she go down on him? No, no, that wasn't part of the lap dance. But damn, he wished it was. When he opened his eyes again, her hands were to the ceiling, her hips swaying to the musician's voice and guitar, eyes trained on his face. Light caught her corset every so often, bouncing off and highlighting sections of dark skin. Breasts shaking, she tilted her head back, spread her legs, and moved to the quickening beat. 

The sound changed, slowed, and she turned, bent, and gripped her calves. Her ass was perfect, round and high, just begging to be slapped hard. Fuck, he wanted to smack her ass while he pounded into her from behind, heard her gasp, moan, scream as she came tight and wet and perfect around him. 

Deok-su's hands clenched in his lap, short nails digging into his palm. Women didn't affect him like this, especially not half-clothed ones. There was no mystery to her body, no secrets he could find and explore. She dipped low, shoulders brushing his knees and tilted her head back to look at him. There was a look of confusion and lust on her face, like she couldn't believe what she was doing while at the same time she wanted to do more. 

Mercy shook her head and her curls brushed the seam of his pants, making his dick jerk painfully. And that mouth—fuck that mouth. Thick, wet lips, high cheek that would hollow as she blew him and then swallowed his cum. He knew she would, knew her hair would brush his thighs and he'd wrap it around his fingers and tug while she drank. 

"Shibal," Deok-su bit off violently. 

"Say something?" Mercy purred, using his legs as leverage as she climbed back to her feet. 

"Nothing." That I want to repeat. 

Deok-su watched her shrug, but not turn around. Instead she stepped back, brought her shoulder to his chest and her ass to his crotch. Then she started to grind. Hard. And fuck if he didn't almost lose his mind. 

"You need to stop." 

She didn't. "If you need to come, go ahead. Most guys do anyway." 

The way she said it, so flippantly, made him angry. Setting a hand on her waist, he stilled her movements. Decorum said he shouldn't touch her, that he didn't have the right. In every other case he would agree. Deok-su had never touched a women, not even a stripper, but he couldn't help Mercy. Feeling her rounded hip fill up his hand, his thumb brush the curve where her back ended and her ass began. 

She didn't scream or move away. No, she froze, half standing, half sitting on his lap, hair in his face. Against himself, Deok-su reached up his other hand and pushed her hair away from her shoulder. She shivered at the contact. 

What am I doing? Deok-su wondered as he brushed his fingertips along her neck and shoulder. Something stupid, he decided, placing a gentle finger under her chin and turning her head to face him. She stared back at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Her chest rose and fell heavily, and he felt his do the same. 

"What are you doing?" She addressed the question to his lips. 

"I'm not sure." He leaned in close until only a few centimeters separated them. "You should push me away." 

"I know." She leaned closer. 

He followed. "Now." 

Her lips lifted at the corners. "Later." And then she kissed him. Peppermint fire, and feisty as hell. 

There was a brief moment of panic, hesitation when all the reasons he shouldn't have sex with a stripper in an American club came roaring back to him. Getting caught. Getting a disease. Unwanted pregnancy. 

But then she parted those lips—fuck, those lips—and he didn't care about anything. Nothing. Except his fingers in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, and his dick in her pussy. He needed more. 

His hand firmed on her hip, yanking her fully onto his lap so the cleft of her ass hugged his erection. Mercy gasped softly and he deepened the kiss, moved the hand at her chin around to her cheek, splaying his fingers so he covered part of her neck and part of her face. 

She wasn't sweet. The peppermint rolling around his tongue bit, like he'd eaten a candy cane then followed it up with a cool glass of water. Deok-su pulled back and looked down at Mercy. There couldn't be any hesitation in her gaze, any fear or reluctance. 

Wide brown eyes darkened to nearly black as she regarded him. She blinked a few times, thick lashes coated with mascara leaving smudges against her cheeks. Flushed, smeared, she looked wild and untamed. 

"Do you want this?" he asked, tightening the fingers at her hip. 

She closed her eyes and turned her head back around, coating his face and mouth in curls that spelled like roses and almonds. "I-I'm not sure." 

"I won't take you against your will." 

"No one's crying foul play here." 

Ever so gently she ground herself on him, and he just about lost his mind. "This doesn't end with kissing," Deok-su rumbled, not sure if the words were completely in English or not. "I'll fuck you." 

That made her shiver. For a second he wondered if she'd draw back, say that her night would end with kissing, and then leave him with his balls strung up and his dick laying flat against his stomach. 

But she didn't. She reached for his hand at her hip, entwined their fingers, and dragged their joined hands across her abdomen. Spreading her thighs, he felt the lace of her barely-there panties tickle the pads of his fingertips. "I think," she said, moving their hands lower until he felt the smoothed, waxed heat of her pussy, "that I'll be fucking you just as hard." 

His middle finger speared her cunt on the last word. She gasped and arched into his hand, her neck falling onto his shoulder. Her palm began to sweat over the back of his hand as she pushed his fingers further inside her. 

He'd never had a woman use his hand to masterbate. And fuck if it didn't feel great. She was all wet, clenching muscles and sharp gasps. For a few minutes he let her have his hand, let her use it any way she wanted as he watched her expressions. Watched her brows furrow in concentration, her teeth bite down on her bottom lip until it turned white, and her cheeks flush scarlet. 

"I'm close," she gasped, arching, shaking, sucking him deeper until his finger fucking was audible in the dimly lit room. 

Deok-su was close to the end of his rope. His hand was drenched, his dick was so hard, and he was sweating badly. "Come." 

She let out a shaky laugh as she withdrew his middle finger, grabbed his index finger, and pushed them both together, high and fast, inside herself. "Don't have to tell me. Already there." 

She arched hard, dug the heel of her palm into the back of his hand, groaned and shook. The shaking was the worst, like a vibrator on his dick. Mercy didn't just come, she fucking exploded. Nails dug, teeth clattered, and a sound between a groan and a scream leaked from her lips. 

"That," she panted, "was great. Thanks." 

Deok-su could care less about her thank you, all he wanted was her pussy clenching his dick hard. His fingers were needy, bruising against her skin as he tried to touch all of her at once. Laughing softly, she pushed away from him and climbed to shaky legs. 

"Bend over." First time he fucked her he wanted it from behind, to bite her shoulder while he thrust in. The woman made him mad, completely mindless. 

"No." 

Blinking slowly, he watched Mercy finger comb her hair and adjust her corset so it sat more comfortably on her hips. "No?" he said slowly. 

"That's what I said." Her voice was too clear, too steady. She didn't looked like she'd just come on his fingers. No, she was completely composed while he felt like a fourteen year-old about to climax for the first time. 

"This was great," she continued, turning to face him, "but I still have a job to do." 

She didn't look half as good as she sounded. Bottom lip quivering, brows drawn low, she looked uncertain, like she'd never done this before and was unsure how to act. But in an instant her whole demeanor changed. Whatever insecurities she'd been dealing with evaporated, and a coy smile lifted the corners of her lips. Leaning down, she kissed him softly on the cheek, nails scraping his forming five o'clock shadow. "I—I needed this." 

She was out the door before he could beg her to stay. 

Chapter Eight 

She said no. For three days and a handful of hours, Deok-su fixated on Mercy, the stripper who said no. The woman who said no. The creature that came on his hands then got up and walked out. 

He'd gone back to the club twice, but there'd been no sign of her. The owner had informed him that Mercy had the weekend and Monday off. But that didn't work for Deok-su because he left Monday night. The contracts had been signed, hands shook, champange poured. There was no reason for him to stay in America any longer. As it happened, there was more reason to get out. He needed to head to Florence to check on one of the company's wineries—his boss's favorite. Deok-su was happy that his employer trusted him so much, but at the same time looking into wineries wasn't part of his job description. 

He had four hours. Four hours left in America with no information on the stripper Mercy and the worst case of blue balls. At first, he'd thought he just wanted sex. But after a very sour attempt with a call girl Lemair had on speed dial, Deok-su knew that wasn't it. Whatever his affliction, only Mercy had the cure. 

"Welcome back," one of the bouncers said as Deok-su flashed his ID and strode through the entrance of the Hickery Dickery Cock. 

Please be here, he thought, scanning the club for any sign of long black legs and curly hair. He was gritting his teeth, mentally cursing when someone thumped his back. "Like a dog with a bone." 

Of course. "Lemair." Deok-su slowly turned to face the man. "What a surprise." 

"Not really." He shrugged. "Billy told me you'd been coming here every night looking for Ms. Mercy." 

Deok-su remained quiet and the man smiled widely. "I know you didn't want to go out that first night, so I'm doing this as a pseudo apology. Don't fuck it up, man." 

Another hand clasped his other shoulder and Deok-su swiveled his head to see the club owner. "She's waiting at the booth for you," the man said gruffly, sweat on his brow. 

Whipping his head back to Lemair, he watched as the man walked away, waving over his shoulder. Deok-su's smile was grudgingly grateful. Americans. 

Looking to where the owner pointed, he saw the top of a curly head sticking up from a booth. That was her. He'd know the hair anywhere. It'd been in his face while he'd fingerfucked her and was branded onto the back of his eyelids. 

"Hey," the owner said as Deok-su practically ran for the booth. "I don't know why you're interested with her, but you do anything to hurt her and you won't live to regret it." 

He took the threat at face value. "I understand." 

Steps separated them, but Deok-su thought it was an ocean. Three days and three painful nights. Jerking off had only made it worse. His dick was hard and chafed, and he was pretty sure there'd be calluses on his hands in a week if he didn't get inside her. But it wasn't just sex. It was her mouth, the way she talked. That sass, that ass, that smile. 

He slid into the booth across from her, the leather squeaking with the movement and drawing the eyes of the few patrons in the club at five in the afternoon. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself before he looked at her. That failed. 

Christ! She looked better now than she had in the corset and panties. No makeup, a worn t-shirt with her hair in a ponytail. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and she had a red nose and flushed cheeks. Had she been as miserable as he'd been? Cried herself to sleep? Tried to get him out of her mind? Good. That'd make getting into her bed easier. 

Mercy opened her lips and instead of the plea to lay her on the table and screw her brains out he expected, she sneezed. All over him. 

"Oh my God!" Her voice was nasally as she reached for the napkin beside him and tried to wipe her snot off his face. "I'm so sorry. I have a cold and it's just gotten worse. I wasn't even supposed to come today, but Billy asked me to." 

"It's fine," he said wiping his face, the illusion he'd had about tears and begging bursting like a bubble. "Are you alright?" 

A small smile flitted at the corners of her lips as she wiped her nose with a balled up tissue. "You asked me that same question when we first met." 

"And as I remember it, you never answered." 

"Nope." 

"Are you going to answer now?" 

She frowned and wiggled on the seat, pulling out her phone. It vibrated in her hand, and she frowned as she looked down at it. "Is there a reason you wanted to talk to me?" she asked, glancing up quickly. 

He leaned closer, waiting until she met his gaze and held it. "Do you remember what else I said that night? It wouldn't end with kissing." 

Something passed through her eyes and for a second he thought she was going to slap him and leave. But Mercy didn't. She placed her phone on the table, leaned forward, grabbed his label(?), and kissed him. Quick and brutal, a tease from the queen of teasing. 

"It didn't," she murmured, drawing back. 

His hand snaked around her head, fingers fisting in her hair, holding her in place. "But it didn't end the way you promised either." If Deok-su had to beg her, he would. He'd feel the shame tomorrow along with a healthy dose of satisfaction. 

Mercy opened her mouth, but her phone rang again and her eyes strayed away from his to the Caller ID. "I have to get that." 

He didn't let go of her. "By all means." 

With a sardonic smile she answered the phone, "Hey, Mom. Little busy right now." 

Mercy's phone was loud enough for him to hear her mother's response. "Lauren! I've been trying to reach you for days. Where have you been?" 

So her name is Lauren? It suited her. 

"I've been sick. What's up?" 

There was a huff before the woman answered, "You should have told me. I'm only your mother." 

A smile touched her lips. "Sorry, Mom. Next time I'm sick, I'll call you." 

"Hopefully there won't be a next time." There was a brief pause. "Dee's going to be in New York." 

White lines appeared around Lauren's mouth and her fingers tightened around her phone until they creaked. "Don't. Care." 

"For God's sakes, Lauren, she's your sister! This is family." 

"Was family. She's not mine anymore. And ya know what, Mom? I'm really sick of having this conversation." 

"I gave her your address," her mother responded flatly. "They're only in New York for a few days before they go on their honeymoon. They wanted to do it before the baby—" 

"Khlr, khlr, khlr, breaking up, khlr, can't—" Click. She'd hung up. 

Deok-su watched Lauren close her eyes and breathe out a long suffering breath. Her lashes were still dark, but they didn't leave smudges against her cheek. And for some reason those lashes gave him an idea, a completely reckless one that was half formed by his dick. 

"Lauren?" She opened her eyes at the mention of her name. "Whoever is coming, you don't want to see them." 

"No. I—I don't." 

"I have a proposition for you." 

She raised a brow and smirked. "Sex?" 

He mimicked her gesture. "In time. But you're an event planner, and I'm in need of your services." 

"Really?" she drawled, settling her elbows more firmly on the table and leaning closer to him. The air around her had changed, and there was an almost violence to her gestures, a bite to her words. "How . . . fortunate." 

"I want you to come to Korea with me and plan an event for our newest merger." 

"Well, considering I've never been to Korea and I'm certain there are other event planners more qualified there, I'm going to have to ask why?" 

He didn't miss a beat. "Because I want to fuck you." 

"At least you're honest." 

"But also," he murmured drawing her closer, "because I think you can do it." 

"After all, you've seen me work. Oh wait, you haven't. You've just seen me strip. And I was hoping that walking out would have given you a clear indication that I won't sell myself for money." 

He tightened his hold on her hair. "I'll draft a contract. You'll be protected. And if, along the way of working together we end up in bed I'll be ecstatic. I'm not buying you, Lauren, I'm giving you an option and myself a better shot." 

There was so much conflict, so much worry and uncertainty on her face that he could practically anticipate her answer. But beyond that, reflected in her eyes he saw a woman who liked the challenge and was ready for it. There was steel in her bones, iron in her words, and that made him falter. Honestly, he wasn't sure what she'd say and that both excited and terrified him. 

Lauren, or Mercy, or whatever her name was, was a mystery, one he wanted to thoroughly explore and enjoy. "You're serious," she whispered softly after a long moment. 

God she looks good. Deok-su leaned forward and kissed her, much more slowly than she'd done with him. He let his lips linger, sampling her. The peppermint taste was still there under the sugary-sweet bite of cough medicine. She was too hot and tasted like chemicals, but perfection had never been his aim. Messiness made life interesting, uncertainty made the days worth trudging through, and sex with her—Deok-su was betting that sex with Lauren would be worth all the problems in the world. 

Pulling back, he looked in brown eyes almost black and licked her taste off his lips. "So, what do you say?"



Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 05



Chapter One 

"What's your name?" I felt stupid asking, especially because he'd had his fingers in me only a couple nights ago. But what did I say to his job offer? In a strip club no less. "No" was top of the list, followed closely by "Have you lost your mind?," "Can't you think of a better way to get me into bed?" and "Are you serious? Because if you are—no, you can't be." 

"Deok-su Park," he answered with a raised brow, finally letting go of my hair and allowing me to sit back down. My lips still tingled from his kiss and my panties were wet. In the last six months I'd gone from engaged to jilted, event planner to stripper. A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from my throat but I choked it back. 

"What is your name?" Deok-su finally asked, his eyes never leaving my face. I wondered if he was giving me time to process his offer. An offer that I still wasn't entirely sure about, except for the crucial detail that if I accepted there was a 99.99% chance I was sleeping with the man. 

"Lauren Eckles." I immediately reached for my purse and the business cards I stuffed in there for just such an occasion, but I stopped. Kind of hard to hand out business cards when the business you worked for fired you. And thank God the Hickery Dickery Cock didn't make employees pass out business cards. No doubt they'd be left on the table covered in jizz by the end of the night, and I'd be the one cleaning it up. 

"Come to Korea with me." Deok-su blinked slowly, a smile creeping up the sides of his face. Dastardly man was enjoying this. "For work . . . and hopefully more." 

Yes. He was offering me a job and sex in the same sentence. My lips parted, closed, parted, closed. "I—" What. The hell. Did I. Say. There was still a gaping hole of non-information surrounding him. Going with the guy would be reckless, stupid, impulsive. A sure fire way to avoid my sister and her new husband. 

No, I couldn't think that way. Did I want to have sex with the man in front of me? Yes. Did I want a job that didn't ask me to take my clothes off when a few employees called in sick? Of course. Did I want those two things mixed together? No. Definitely no. 

"Look, Deok-su," I said after a second. "I appreciate the offer, but it's unrealistic." 

"How so?" 

"For starters, I don't know you. Don't know your business. Don't even know if you have the authority to offer me a job. If nothing else, mixing business and pleasure sounds great in theory, but it never works out." I gestured between us. "This will never work out." 

He scowled across from me and ran a hand through his hair, sending the strands a million different ways. He muttered in Korean, obviously working out what he wanted to say in English. "I am not sure what to do, Lauren." 

Honesty was always the best policy. "Me either. But offering me what sounds like an amazing opportunity, isn't the answer." 

"To which question are you referring?" 

Now it was my turn to smile. "Do you want to have sex with me?" 

"Yes." If there was any hesitation in his voice I didn't hear it. 

"Let's take it from there." Pushing away from the both, I held out a hand to him. "Maybe we can speak rationally after rolling around in bed for a while." 

Deok-su shook his head and looked up at me like I was equal parts miracle and the worst decision he had yet to make. "You—how do you say?—confuse me. I do not know women like you." 

I took that as a compliment and returned in kind. "I don't know men like you either. Ones who'll offer me a job just to get in my pants." 

"I would offer you the world." 

Sounded true, too. "Are you coming or going?" 

Sliding out of the booth, he wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me toward the exit. His voice was low and very deep, "Coming." 

Chapter Two 

As we made our way out, I was acutely aware of a few things. The way Deok-su's hand rested possessively and comfortably around my waist. Billy all but ignoring me, expect for a quick nod to let me know he saw me leave. The hushed whispers and quick swipes across smartphones from my fellow waitresses and the dancers waiting for their sets at the bar. From the way they looked at their phone then Deok-su then back to their phone, it was obvious they knew who he was. A part of me was interested too, but that was the same part that thought about babies and weddings, had been an event planner and a good Southern girl. I destroyed that part when I screwed Durrell's best friend on what would have been our wedding night. 

Betrayal's a bitch you don't want to meet twice. 

"See you found her." I turned to see Mark leaning against the hostess podium, an eat shit grin splitting his face. Mark Lemair was well known in the club and as well liked as someone going to strip clubs could be. He tipped generously, wasn't too ass-grabby, and knew almost everyone's name. The millionaire had been a thorn in Billy's side ever since he'd come to the club half a year ago, because he was notorious for stealing girls and giving them jobs in his company. 

"Lemair," Deok-su greeted at the same moment I stepped out of his embrace. 

"Mark." I smiled. "Why am I not surprised to see your hand in this?" 

His eyes twinkled. "What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic." Those wouldn't be the words I'd use to describe him. "How are you, Lauren?" 

I felt Deok-su's hand curl back around my waist, a bit insistent this time. He loomed over my shoulder like a shadow. "Good. Interesting night." 

"I heard. You didn't take the offer." 

Not surprising he knew about our conversation; one of the girls must have been eavesdropping. Around here word spread faster than oil on a skillet. "Don't mix business with pleasure." 

"Never know," he said slyly with a wink, "You might like it." 

The man was incorrigible. 

"Lemair," my shadow said, drawing our attention back to him. "If you will excuse us." 

"Yeah, yeah. I know." We were turning to leave when he called out. "See you for lunch tomorrow, Dick. Can't wait to hear how your night went. 

Deok-su's muscles tightened in warning. I wondered at that. Not hard though, wondering let to imagining, imaging to dreaming, and dreaming to a place that I didn't want to be in. 

Deok-su's words were gruff, clipped, "Good evening, Mr. Lemair." 

We were outside a moment later, the chill eating through the jacket I'd tugged on. Cabs meandered down the street while across restaurants started to close up shop. The club wasn't in a bad area, more of a business one. A non-descript black door separate office cronies heading home from work with the ones coming to the club to relax, unwind, and take in more risque entertainment. 

"Shall we hail a cab?" 

The question startled me and I jumped, hand pressed to my breasts. Suddenly the enormity of my decision was crashing down on me. Sure he seemed normal, but that didn't mean he was. What if I went back with him and he strangled me? Raped me? Would anyone find my body, or would people like Lemair wave a wad of cash and make me disappear? Venereal diseases were so low on the totem pole that I barely gave them a thought. No, being raped or killed was high on my list of very likely scenarios and I didn't even register how crazy sad that was to be a normal thought, like orange juice with breakfast or picking up laundry from the dry cleaners. 

My mind scrambled with ways to get out of a situation, only moments ago, I'd placed myself in. Mercy would be fine with this. Mercy would laugh, probably drag the Korean guy into the alley, and screw his brain out next to a dirty trash can. I, however, was not my stripper alter ego all the time and decisions made in the moment were ones I had to deal with for the rest of my life. 

"Lauren?" Deok-su asked softly, brushing my shoulder with cool fingertips. 

I flinched, and placed space between us. "Uh. Yeah. A cab." 

His hand dropped to his side and fisted. "Lauren, if you do not—" 

"I want this," I rushed to say. Yes, fear gnawed at me with situations that could happen, but the reality was that if his fingers were even half as good as his dick— 

I shivered all over. Yeah, I wanted this. I just hoped I wanted the right thing. "It's nerves." 

"I have them too," he said quietly, stunning me. Men like Deok-su weren't supposed to get nerves. He was tall, not too skinny or muscular, with symmetry to his face and body. He dressed well, had a job, treated women respectfully (so far), and had a job. The later was pretty important. Durrell had been a catch for that same reason. There just weren't that many Black men working without some kind of record. The fact that Durrell had a great job, a goal for his life, and a sense of self made him the Holy Grail. Everyone wanted him. Except the Holy Grail was inanimate, my ex-fiancee's dick was not. 

"Are you hungry?" 

"Excuse me?" 

I smiled and stepped up to the curb to flag down a passing cab. "There's a cheap kebab place in my neighborhood. They make a really good lamb pizza. I was thinking about ordering it. If you're hungry, I think you should come with me." 

A checkered cab screeched to a halt, the cabbie demanding in heavily accented, broken English, "Where you go?" 

My eyes were trained on Deok-su. I knew what I was offering. Ending up as a plot to a Law & Order SVU episode was still on the edges of my thoughts, but I wanted this. Tonight and him. Maybe questionable lamb pizza, too. 

Deok-su stepped up and kissed the hell out of my lips. Jealousy flared for a second at the thought of how long and with how many women he had to practice to get this kind of skill, but it died under his tongue and teeth and wandering hands. When we broke apart, I was panting like a runner after a race. Thankfully, the cab was still there. 

"Give him your address," Deok-su said, holding the door wide for me. 

Well, alright then.



Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 06



Chapter Eleven 

It very nearly killed him, but Deok-su didn't touch the woman beside him the entire car ride. It was more for her benefit than his, since he assumed having sex in that backseat of a cab wasn't how she wanted the night to continue. Touching Mercy was off. 

Lauren, he reminded himself, crossing his legs and openly regarding her across the cab. Six or so inches of cracked and faded black leather separated them, and he was actually aware of every centimeter. She was lovely. Dressed down, hair in a hasty ponytail, face free of any make up. Women like her didn't exist in his world of perfectly coiffed beauty achieved through expensive treatments, cosmetics, and creams. Lauren was a dandelion among roses. 

"I don't do this," she whispered quietly, too low for the cab driver to hear. If he hadn't been watching her very carefully, Deok-su was sure he wouldn't have caught it either. 

"What?" 

"One night stands." She winced. "And whatever that was a few days ago. Momentary insanity." 

There'd been an edge of formality to their conversation in the Cognac room, but now that barrier was broken. Her colloquialisms, while hard to follow, allowed him an insight into her character. She was intelligent, educated, and had been raised well. Interesting that the only job she could get was at a strip club. He found that went against what she presented, how she acted and behaved. 

"You're staring too hard." 

He blinked, drawn back into the moment with her brown eyes boring holes through him. "I do not do this either." 

"You're speaking more slowly and formally." 

"It happens when I think too much. I have to translate my thoughts into English. The process can be . . . difficult when I have many things on my mind." 

She nodded, seeming to understand. The drive to her apartment proceeded quietly and uneventfully. Within a few more minutes, they pulled up to a non-descript, four story apartment building. Lauren reached for her purse, but with a click of his tongue, Deok-su stopped her. "I will pay." 

"We'll split." 

Deok-su sliced his head to the side in silent negation. The day a woman paid for anything in front of him was the day he lost his balls. 

Lauren climbed out of the cab and Deok-su was quick to follow, dogging her every step. He took a cursory glance around the neighborhood. The cars were dusty, older models, and the homes on the street circa 50s and 60s. It was a working class neighborhood, made more noticeable by the back and forth barking of two dogs, a resident pulling onto the street and getting out from his car in a suit and tie, and the smell of barbeque and sound of laughter floating toward him from halfway down the street. 

"This is nice," Deok-su commented as she stepped up to the white-painted brick apartment building and pulled out a key. 

"Thanks." Lauren unlocked the door and shoved it wide. "I love the neighborhood. And with the hours I work, it's nice to come home and not have to worry about getting stabbed or mugged. We even have a Community Watch!" 

He wasn't sure what that was, but Lauren seemed happy enough. Deok-su waited as she got her mail, unlocked yet another door with a press-in code, and led him up three flights of stairs. As far as one nights stands went, this one seemed oddly uneventful, mundane even. Everything the woman did seemed more out of habit than a rush for him to be in her bed. There was a calm reassurance in the way she handled herself and the situation. Inside, Deok-su felt like a knot of lust and longing. The second he touched her, she'd be on her back or at the very least against something sturdy enough to hold their weight. 

"Ya comin' in?" 

He looked up to see Lauren peering at him, a stack of mail held to her chest, the door wide open to her apartment. "Excuse me." He slid past her and stopped at the threshold of her home, immediately beginning to remove his shoes. 

"You can leave them on," she rushed to say, before a wince contorted her face, "or take them off. Your choice. I just haven't swept or cleaned or . . . Well, really done anything in forever." She tossed the mail onto a table off to the side, already overflowing with similar packets and magazines. 

He knew some Americans left shoes on in the home, but the thought of doing that now made him uncomfortable. So, despite her reservations about her less than sterile living space, he continued to undo his laces and carefully set his shoes near the door. 

"Let me go find the menu for Kebab Time," she tossed out as she strode into the galley kitchen and opened a series of draws. "You're still hungry, right? Want something to drink?" She opened her refrigerator and began listing off what she had. Her rambling gave him ample opportunity to look around. The apartment couldn't have been more than one hundred some-odd meters, with all the rooms bleeding into each other so one couldn't tell where the kitchen stopped and the bedroom began. The only things separated from the room were a small closet and the bathroom. 

Carefully, Deok-su picked his way over to Lauren, wary of the precarious stacks and odds and ends scattered across her floor. "Lauren," he interrupted her rambling, standing on the other side of the refrigerator door she clutched with white knuckles. 

A curly head popped up and wide brown eyes met his. She looked . . . conflicted. "We do not—" Deok-su sighed, running a hand through his hair as he thought about how to say what he wanted in English. "I can leave." 

"No, no, no!" She closed the refrigerator door and moved toward him. Laying a hand on his chest, she took a shaky breath in. "Just kiss me, okay?" 

He did, fumbling at first, gripping too tightly. Need coiled in his gut, and Deok-su felt like it was his first time again. Roof of the school with a locked door separating Min-yoon and him from the rest of the world. All clumsy touches, too wet kisses, and insecurity-tinged desire. 

Thankfully, Lauren had no such predilections. "Lift me. Counter." Her words brought Deok-su back to the moment, in a small kitchen with handfuls of firm ass and a willing woman grinding hard against him. 

"The bed," he gasped, breaking away long enough to get the words out before diving back and running his tongue over her lips, teeth, melting into her mouth. There was no way their first time together was going to be on a counter. Maybe the third or fourth, but not the first. When he entered her for the first time, he'd look in her eyes, grip her hands, and watch every nuance of expression cross her face. 

Stumbling away from the kitchen, he sought to remember where the bed was while also trying not to injure himself on her cluttered floor. "Damn!" He gave up, pulled back, and yanked her up against him. Scanning the small studio, he spotted the bed and took two large steps toward it before throwing her against the pillows and comforter. 

"Hey!" Lauren cried indignantly, bouncing for a second, hair a mess around her flushed face, clinging to her bruised lips. "You could've broken my bed." 

"Still might." 

"Try not to. These things aren't cheap you know. No matter what the IKEA commercials say." 

"If we break your bed," he said darkly, bending to her. "I will buy you a new one. Now take your clothes off." It was hard continuing a conversation in English when all the blood used to translate suddenly went to his dick. 

Lauren tugged the t-shirt over her head as he went for his own clothes, pulling and tugging, not giving a damn if things ripped or buttons flew. He needed her. Now. 

"Lights off." 

Deok-su shook his head, flinging his shirt toward the couch. "On." 

"My one night stand, my rules. You're lucky to be gettin' any at all. Don't blow it. Lights off." 

"That mouth . . ." he was unsure how to phrase exactly what she did to him. A part of him wanted to devour Lauren (completely eat her up) while another part wanted to wrap her in silk and place her among the softest pillows so she never hurt, never worried, never felt fear or trepidation. They were new emotions, violent, blindsiding him completely. 

"Is gonna get me in trouble?" She raised a brow and smiled sardonically. 

"Yes." 

Fluidly, she rose to her knees among the thick violet comforter and black sheets. Her fingers went to the button of her jeans, flicking deftly, parting the placket, slipping down the front of her zipper, caressing—Shit! If he didn't know better, he would think she was teasing him. Deko-su looked up and caught her gaze. Definitely teasing. 

"Turn the lights off and I'll slide down my zipper." 

Temptation rode him hard. She asked for something simple, something that shouldn't have irritated him so bad. But it did. "I want . . ." he cursed violently in Korean, unsure of the English words to say. "I need . . . to see you. All of you. To make it real. To make you real." 

The words weren't right, they didn't feel as desperate as he needed them to be. He'd beg, plead, worship her in the same breath he'd wrap her hair around his fist and fuck her immobile, until she couldn't think without his dick inside her. Madness. Perhaps the same momentary insanity that took her over was contagious. 

Lauren opened her mouth to say something, but damn it he didn't want to hear it. Stepping close, Deok-su slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her senseless. He drew away long enough to push Lauren gently on her back and slide her zipper down. In one fluid move her jeans and panties whipped down her legs, sailing across the room to join his shirt. Now all Lauren wore was a plain black bra, and a flick of his fingers and a quick tug, found that too in the growing pile of clothes. 

Beautiful. Her skin glowed in the light, a collage of different browns that painted a picture of what she'd worn. She never wore anything that showed her stomach or her thighs outside. The skin there was light, while the skin of her arms and legs was darker. Her arms moved to cover her breasts, two shades lighter with nipples that looked like confections. Deok-su's hands shot out, yanking her arms away and pinning her wrists above her head. 

"Do not hide!" 

"Huh?" She blinked wide eyes up at him, her words sharp, "Speak in English. I can't understand Korean." 

"Do not hide from me," he translated, the words a bit softer. "I want to see you." 

"In all my stretch marked, fatty glory?" 

Does she never shut up? Deok-su shook his head as he ignored her words and ran his eyes down her body to the triangle of curly hair between her legs. Her thighs were closed, clenched tightly. Immediately, he let go of Lauren's wrists to touch her thighs, thumbs moving up to those curls. "Open." 

"Say please," she whispered shakily. 

His eyes never left hers as he tugged her body to the edge of the mattress and knelt in front of her. "I beg you. Please." 

On a sigh, her legs opened wide. 

Chapter Twelve 

Deok-su's favorite color had always been silver, the color of the moon when it was full and hung heavy in the sky. That favorite died a quick death when Lauren parted her thighs. His new favorite color was now shinny pink, the color of Lauren's pussy dripping wet. 

"It doesn't suddenly change into a dragon," she laughed, breathless. "No matter how long you stare." 

A smile curled the edges of his lips. With near reverence, he leaned forward and scented her deeply. Nothing in the world smelled better than wet woman. It filled him with the same anticipation as a storm on the wind. 

"Do you have a STD?" 

Deok-su blinked, completely taken off guard. He looked up from between her legs, but Lauren's expression was entirely serious. "No. I do not." 

"Good. I don't have any either. I was tested six months ago, and I haven't had sex since." 

Six months? He nearly staggered at her off-hand admittance of a time frame that seemed unfathomable to him. Six days was long. Six weeks interminable. But six months . . . Not even when he was doing his mandatory military service did he go without sex for more than a couple weeks. 

The fact she choose him to break her celibacy wasn't lost on Deok-su however. That was why he wouldn't mess this up. Not if he wanted her again. Which—he gulped and tried not to shake—he very much did. 

"Jagiya," Deok-su whispered softly, leaning closer to her heat. "Dangsin-eun jeongmal aleumdabseubnida." You are so beautiful. 

He flicked his tongue out and caught her clit in a brief tease. Lauren tensed, thighs straining in his grasp as he parted her thighs wider. The next caress wasn't nearly as playful. Deok-su was hungry—starved for the taste of her. Tangy and sweet on his tongue, she melted beneath him, spreading out on the sheets like liquid. Small, mewling sounds spilled from her lips, inciting him further. All he could think about was her taste. 

She cried out when he scraped his teeth along her clit, snaking his tongue around the nub a second later. He tilted his head, lifted her legs, and covered her with his entire mouth, sucking and licking and nipping. 

"I'm coming," she moaned, panting above him. 

Not yet. He wanted to be inside her when she blew. Deok-su drew back and switched tactics, pleasuring her with his fingers. Lauren was so wet, she had no problem taken in two. Arching her back, she scratched at the sheets when he pushed his fingers all the way in and curled the tips, stroking her g-spot. Her muscles clenched with the beat of her heart, the inhale and exhale of her breaths. 

"Don't stop. I'm close. Don't stop," she pleaded. There was such fear in her voice that he'd leave her wanting that it broke his heart. 

Finding the words to tell her what he felt, what he'd do, what he'd make her feel was a akin to crawling through mud. It was hard going, the words so close, but trapped just beyond his mind's reach. He gave up and finally said what he needed to in his mother tongue, the words pouring out of him. "The first time you come, I'll be in you. I'll be riding you hard, and you'll scream my name and love it. Love me. And we'll do it again, until you can't walk. Until all you want to do is ride my cock and come. You want that, Lauren, don't you?" 

"I c-can't understand you." 

"Yes, you can." 

Her eyes widened when he pulled back and shucked his pants. His feet were barely out of them before he was back on her. "Do you have a condom?" she asked. 

Considering this wasn't how he'd planned his night to go, no, he didn't. "No." 

She worried her lip between her teeth before leaning up and pushing him off her. A growl crawled up from his throat because she was not going to leave him again. There would be no abuse of his hand or icy showers. 

"I'm not going to tell you to leave," she promised with a small laugh as he let her up. "Would you be okay with a blow job?" 

The thought of her lips wrapped around his cock nearly undid him. "You do not have condoms?" 

"If I did?" 

He looked down at her, watching the emotions play across her face. "That would be better." 

"Well, um . . ." she dithered, before throwing her hands up and reaching for the nightstand drawer next to her bed. She withdrew a large box of condoms, sized extra-large. A part of him went cold. He'd assume she had one condom lying around that was expired from six months of celibacy (he'd find a way to make it work though, or run to and back from a drug store in record time) but the large box said that was a lie. She was a liar. She had sex. A lot of it. 

"They aren't what you think they are," she rushed to say, but he was barely listening. The woman was a liar, one who was probably as disease ridden as the rats in the street. His cock was still hard and painful, but her juices didn't taste as sweet anymore and her pussy didn't look so tempting either. Fuck, but he was still horny, still wanted her desperately. Deok-su was torn. Leave or stay. 

"Get out of my apartment." 

Her angry words caught him off guard and he looked at her, naked and wet. "I am sorry?" 

Lauren slid from the bed and climbed to her feet in front of him. She slapped her hands on her hips, words rushing out of her mouth too fast for him to follow. "You think because I have a box of condoms that makes me a whore. Don't try to deny it, your look says it all. You need to understand that this is my body. I can do whatever and whoever I want." She snapped her fingers in his face, making him blink back. Her head bobbed, breasts swaying with her angry gestures. "And just so you know, I bought these condoms the morning after you finger-banged me because I hoped we'd end up together. My mistake." She pointed and nodded to the door. "You can get the fuck out now." 

It was hard to keep up with her spit fire words but the gist wasn't lost on him. Deok-su thought about his next move. It'd taken him too long to get to this point—her naked and needy and so wet for him she dripped. He could follow her demand, leave with an uncomfortably hard cock and keep his views on her, or he could apologize, hope the night wasn't completely ruined, and get back between her legs. 

Second option seemed the best. 

"I will not leave." 

She stomped over to the table beside the door. "Guess I'll call the cops." 

"Lauren," his tone was measured as he approached; hers was not. "What?" she threw her hands up, whirling back to him, violent and ready for a fight. "You obviously don't want to—" 

She was on her back, against the door, in a second. He was between her legs in another. "Do not tell me what I want!" Deok-su took her lips savagely, irritation, anger, and goddamned lust fueling him. 

But Lauren didn't lay tame and acquiescent against him. Her fingers fisted his hair, nipples dragging roughly against his chest as she lifted up and sucked at his lips. When she bit him, he glared at her, but her brown eyes met him, challenging. 

He went deeper, lifted her higher, kept their eyes locked as he touched the mushroom tip of his cock to her pussy. Fuck, she was so wet and slick and hot. Deok-su rubbed against her, slipping his dick up and down, swiveling it against her clit. 

Lauren drew back and pounded her fist against the door, rattling it. "Condom." 

The feelings of disgust he'd had only a second ago blinked out of existence as he slammed her body against his and carried her to the bed. He slipped on her cluttered floor and Lauren's legs wrapped around his hips. Against himself, he entered her. Just a small taste. 

"Shibal!" 

Pushing their bodies on the bed, sweat dripped from his forehead and chest onto her as Deok-su blindly felt for the box she'd thrown down onto the bed. The movements caused him to slip deeper inside, and for a second he gave up. His hands moved to her waist, gripping, clenching. Deok-su pushed a little further, felt her thighs brush his flanks, breasts press into him as she arched. 

But her words stopped him, "I can't get pregnant. Please . . . put on a condom." 

Pregnant? The thought did funny things to him. Made Deok-su think of a family, coming home to dinner, to Lauren and their kids, and her warmth. The thought had always appealed to him but with her it wasn't just a fantasy. He could make it a reality. She felt right around him, good in a wholly unexpected way. Even when she was angry or teasing or driving him absolutely crazy with her fucking mouth it worked. They worked together. 

But the "Please" stopped him. Deok-su levered himself up, and pulled out of her tight, wet body. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to do and for a second he couldn't breath. Then he heard the shaky, nearly inaudible "Thank you" that slipped from Lauren's lips, and it was all he could do not to slam back into her. With a shaking hand, he found the box, ripped it open, grabbed a foil packet, and rolled the latex down his length. He winced as the cool rubber met his overheated skin. 




Stripper Heels & Coupon Deals Pt. 06



"Tell me . . . you want this." 

She didn't hesitate. "Badly." 

He positioned himself at her entrance, and looked straight in her eyes. "Need it." 

"I—" 

Knock. 

Knock.