Beautiful Failure (10 page)

“Do you like this?” I whisper.

No answer.

I feel his dick hardening beneath me and hold back a gasp. I don’t have to look down to know that he’s
huge
; I slide my right hand between us, running it against his thickness—wishing his pants weren’t in the way.

His eyes still haven’t lost contact with mine, so I stop my half-hand job and start grinding my body against his, feeling his dick swell even more.

Jesus...

I lean forward and whisper against his lips since I can’t bring myself to look away from his face. “How badly do you want to fuck me?”

His lips curve into a smile, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he slips his arms around my waist and runs his hands against my bare sides. 

My breath catches in my throat as he presses his fingers into my skin, as they find their way to the back of my bra. He whispers something I can’t comprehend and slides his thumb across the clasp, using his other hand to grip my hip and hold me still.

As good as his touch feels, I don’t want anyone else in the room to get the wrong idea, so I grab his hands and move them away.

I reach behind my back, ready to unsnap the bra myself, but he lifts me out of his lap and stands.

He pulls a few fifty dollar bills out of his pocket and tucks them underneath my right bra strap.

“Thank you very much,
Raven
.” He looks me up and down before walking away.

What the fuck?!

I stand still for a few seconds, trying to process what the hell just happened. Confused, I turn around to see where he’s headed. Before I can go after him, Robyn steps in front of me.

“That was pretty good.” She laughs. “You just got another request. Polka dot chaise across the room.”

“I wasn’t finished with the guy I just danced for. I need to ask him why he got up before I was done.”

“
Excuse me
?”

“I wasn’t finished with the last guy. I need to ask him a question.”

“Did he look like he enjoyed it?” She crosses her arms.

“I think so.”

“Did he
pay
you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you’re
finished
. Polka dot chaise. Across the room.
Now
.”

I don’t argue. I leave my dress on the floor and walk over to my new client, trying not to let any disappointment show on my face.

The guy is the father of the groom to be—he’s wearing a tie that says so, and he’s not wearing a wedding ring. Dressed in Karl Lagerfeld, he clearly comes from money, and he looks as if he’s too good to be here, like he’s above everyone in the room.

I step in front of him and smile. “Are you ready?”

“Very much so.” He sets his drink down.

I bring my arms behind my head and run my fingers through my hair as I seductively roll my hips. Once I know I’ve got him, once I know he’s entranced, I step towards him and run my hands all over my body—watching his hungry eyes take it all in. Then I carefully straddle him.

I wrap my arms around his neck and rock into him slowly, whispering, “How badly do you want to fuck me?”

He grunts.

“How badly?” I repeat in a sultrier voice.

He grunts again and his dick slowly stiffens in his pants. “Real bad...I want to fuck you in the ass.”

I freeze my eyeballs to their sockets and continue to grind on him. As I thread my fingers through his hair and ask him if he likes this, he grips my hips. Hard.

“How much do I have to pay you to let me fuck you in the ass?” He’s sweating. “I bet it’s tight...”

I smile and focus on finishing the dance, ignoring his question.

“How much?” he repeats, and by the look in his eyes I can tell he’s seconds away from cumming in his pants.

“I’m not for sale, baby.” I whisper, remembering that Robyn suggests calling clients “baby” whenever they ask for something outrageous. It’s supposed to soften the blow.

“I can give you whatever you want, sweetheart.” He begs. “Whatever you fucking want...”

“Hmmm.” I ride him a few more seconds, pressing my lips against his neck as the song comes to an end. Then I let him squeeze my sides as he loses control.

“Fuck...” He pants. “If you let me, if you let me do what I want to you, it’ll be
more
than worth it...I can take you away from here and you’ll never have to dance for money again.”

I slip out of his lap and readjust my bra, trying not to laugh. Robyn also claims that some men will try to play “Captain Save a Ho” by promising to take us away from the strip club, by acting as if stripping is some sinful world that we need to be rescued from.

“I’m fine, baby.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Do you want another dance or are you done with me?” I push one of my bra cups open, silently showing him where to place the money.

He looks into my eyes and sighs, taking out his wallet. Instead of placing it where I want it to be, he slides a hand up my thigh and tucks the bills in the band of my panties.

“My business card is in there too, beautiful,” he says as he stands up. “Just in case you change your mind... And since I
know
you are because I can see it in your eyes—” He smiles. “Tell me what your name is.”

“Raven.”

“Cute. What’s your
real
name?” He leans close, whispering. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I hesitate, fake a frown, and sigh. “Autumn.”

“I thought so. I look forward to hearing from you, Autumn.” He looks me over one last time before joining his son onstage.

“I’m impressed.” Michael—who doesn’t look like a club owner tonight, grins as he pulls me into a corner. He’s dressed in a polo shirt and jeans and he looks years younger.

“The weak girls always quit after their first dance,” he says. “I usually have to follow them to the parking lot.”

“I’m not weak.”

“Clearly.” He smiles again. “You need to work on your dancing, but I think you’ll be a good fit for us. Come back tomorrow for a schedule and we’ll get you started on your pole lessons. Those are what’s most important. If you’re good, that’s how you’ll earn the most money. I have a feeling you’ll be a
highly
requested performer.” He trails his fingers against my bra strap. “You can go home now.”

“
What
? That’s it?”

“For now. Yes.” He signals to someone, and one of the club’s body guards appears at his side. “Walk Raven out to her car will you? She’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” The guard nods and motions for me to walk ahead of him.

Disappointed, I walk out of the room—looking over my shoulder at the other girls who are still giving out dances, the girls who are still making money.

As I’m escorted to the dressing room to put on my “real clothes,” I realize tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And even though I’m beyond happy to be hired, a part of me is upset.

For one, I feel like there’s someone else who wants to request me, someone else I can take the much needed money from upstairs. And two, I want to know why Carter stopped me in the middle of my dance.

I’m honestly a bit bothered that he left the way he did. I’ve never had a man turn away from me, let alone one that was seeing me damn near naked.

And the way he was staring at me...He was definitely turned on...It doesn’t make any sense...

“Raven...” The bodyguard clears his throat, knocking me out of my thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to get in your car?”

“Huh?” I realize we’re standing in the parking lot and he’s holding the driver’s side door open. “Sorry about that...” I slip inside and wait for him to close it.

He walks behind my car and crosses his arms—waiting for me to pull off, watching to make sure no one is following me.

I crank my engine, but before I pull off, I reach into my bra and pull out the money I’ve earned tonight and count: Four hundred dollars.
Four. Hundred. Dollars.

Fuck looking for another job this summer.

I’ve officially found my new career.

Two weeks later...

“H
ey!
Shakespeare
!” Robyn shouts at me, making me drop my pen.

“What?”

“Are you going to go on stage and show the men how well you can
write
or are you going to dance? I’m trying to help you.”

I sigh and shut my notebook, walking over to where she and Sarah (“Sparkle”) are watching my practice footage from earlier.

“On that last swirl, you need to hold your leg out for a little while longer.” Robyn hops on stage and leans against the pole. “Try and do it like this...” She twirls around and gracefully stretches her right leg—holding it out for ten seconds.”

“And make sure you find a target in the audience so you can keep your eyes locked on his,” Sarah says. “Just pretend like you’re having the best sex of your life with him. That’s what I always do.”

Robyn taps her lips, agreeing. “It makes it look like you’re nervous if you don’t make eye contact with someone. It’s a total turnoff.”

I nod and prepare to redo my routine on the practice pole one last time, but Robyn leads me to the dressing room and starts to do my makeup. 

For the past few weeks, I’ve been coming to the club to practice early in the morning—telling my grandparents that the “diner” down the street is training me in intense early morning and late night shifts. I’ve even brought slices of pie home for them, hoping that’ll confirm where they think I work. 

At first, they didn’t understand why I would choose to work at a diner that was two hours away, but after I explained that the pay was double and that I’m allowed to work as much overtime as I want, they agreed that it was a brilliant idea.

Then they prayed that I would last for longer than two weeks.

They’re so proud of me that they’ve offered to get me a room at a motel on my workdays to save me the driving time, but I’ve declined. I don’t want to get too comfortable in this town, and with the clients I’ve been encountering lately, I’d much rather sleep at home at the end of the night. 

“Hey, hold still.” Robyn snaps her fingers. “This is stage mascara so it smudges easily.”

I stiffen and hold my eyes wide, nervous and utterly terrified about my first live stage performance. I’ve fallen off the pole twice in rehearsals, and I’ve been trying to psych myself up about this all day.

Since it’s a Friday night, the club will be packed to capacity and the men will be a lot more generous with their money.

When Robyn is done with my makeup, Sarah hands me a white button up shirt to wear over my shiny black bra and panty set. Once I have it buttoned, they take turns perfecting my hair—tossing my curls over my shoulder and draping a long strand of pearls around my neck.

“Absolute perfection,” Robyn says, laughing. “A
classy
stripper!”

She and Sarah look me over one last time and tell me to head directly behind the stage, to wait until the premier performances are over—which will take
hours
.

Since I’m new, I’ll only get
one
song instead of the three to five song set that the regulars get. That’s how the newbies have always been treated and I guess it’s a rite of passage, along with the silent treatment that still hasn’t been lifted for me.

With the end of every premier performance, my heart rate speeds up by the second. By the time it’s my turn, I’m wishing that the interlude song will last a bit longer so I can gather my thoughts a little more.

“And now...” A deep voice says over the speakers. “The Phoenix welcomes our newest entertainer...” There’s a light applause, and then my song begins to play as he says, “The beautiful and talented...
Raven
...”

I wait for a few more notes to sound and then I wait for the curtain to rise, walking down the short runway—straight for the pole.

Quickly scanning the crowd, I don’t see anyone I’d want to have sex with.
Ever
. Most of the men—though attractive, are at least ten to fifteen years older than me.

My eyes settle on the table that’s directly below me, where a dark haired man with beautiful green eyes is sitting.

I stare at him and commit to making him my target, until Carter pulls out a chair right next to him. 

He looks at me and tilts his head to the side, and for a split second he looks confused, but then he smiles that familiar and cocky smile and I immediately make him my focus.

He’s so fucking sexy...

Turning my back to the audience, I unbutton the front of my shirt—tossing my hair back until I reach the last one. The second I finish, I spin around—exposing my lingerie to the crowd.

As I slowly slide down to the floor, I keep my eyes locked on Carter’s—picturing how hot it would be if he joined me onstage right now. Honestly wishing that he would, I lift the pearls from around my neck and toss them into the audience, earning an outburst of cheers.

The song approaches the chorus—my signal to move towards the pole.

Biting my lip, I picture Carter fucking me against the wall of a private room and gracefully hoist myself up with my arms. As his lips cover mine in my fantasy, I twirl around the pole in utter bliss, letting my legs support my body’s weight.

I slow my spin and arch my back so I’m hanging upside down, watching Carter’s eyes lustfully stare back into mine.

I notice that several dollars have been tossed onstage during my twirls, so I let myself slink down to the stage. When my head touches the floor, I flip over and stand upright.

Swaying my hips to the slowing beat, I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, letting my breasts fall free.

More dollars hit the stage.

I back my body against the pole—hooking a leg around it, and raise an arm high above my head to grip it. Spreading my legs, I let my other hand slowly travel from my neck, down to my stomach, to the top of my nearly see-through panties.

I splay my hands across the front of them—tilting my head back as if I’m pleasuring myself, as if Carter is fucking me out of my mind. I move my hand to the bow that hangs off the side and pull at it—smiling at the desperate “Take it off!” “Keep going!” “Don’t stop!” pleas that are coming from all over the room.