Beautiful Failure (15 page)

He tugs at my bikini string underneath the water. “Why did you start working at The Phoenix?”

“I needed the money. Why are you a
frequent
visitor there? Are you going to admit to your naked woman addiction?”

“I don’t have an
addiction
.” He kisses my hair. “I was there for a friend’s bachelor party the first time. The second time I came to see if my favorite performer would be there.”

“And the time you happened to be at the diner? Weren’t you leaving the club?”

“I was in the area and
happened
to be hungry. I haven’t been back since I saw you onstage.”

“Any reason why?”

“Fucking you onstage isn’t allowed.”

I blush again. “Oh...”

“Yes.
Oh
.” He laughs and lets me go, taking my hand and pulling me towards the dock.

When we get there, he picks me up and places me on the edge. “Do you enjoy stripping?” He grabs a towel and presses it against my skin. 

“It’s the best job I’ve ever had.” I bite my lip as he caresses my inner thigh. “I’m sure you secretly think it’s trashy or classless, but—”

“I
don’t
. I think you should enjoy whatever you do for a living.”

“Do you enjoy what
you
do for a living?”

“Sometimes.” He presses the towel against my stomach and motions for me to scoot back and make room for him.

I watch him dry himself in slow motion, wishing I was his towel, and before I know it, he’s sitting in front of me, pulling me into his lap so we’re facing each other.

“You’re a lot nicer in private settings.” He drags his thumbs across my lips. “And a lot more
open
...”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t.” He looks into my eyes.

“Since you’ve had a field day asking me questions on this
date
—”

“This isn’t a date.”

“That’s what your text said.”

“That was before you texted me and told me that you didn’t
feel
like going out, before I had to kiss you against the wall and
make
you come out with me.” His voice is low. “If this was a
date
, I’d be making it
a lot
harder for you to get smart with me.” He presses his mouth against my shoulder tattoo, slowly tracing the words with his tongue. “What were you about to say before I interrupted you?”

“Um...I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you some questions.”

“Ask away.” He slips his hands underneath my thighs and pulls me even closer so our foreheads are touching.

“Why haven’t you fucked me yet?”

“
What
?”

“I want an answer. You’ve had the opportunity more than once and I’m starting to feel ugly...” I didn’t mean to say that last part aloud but it’s true. It’s always taken a single outing or two for a guy to want to have sex with me, but since he still hasn’t, it honestly makes me feel insecure. That’s one thing I know Leah was right about. One or two times alone with a guy is enough to see if he’s truly interested or not.

“You have no reason to feel
ugly
.” He tries to kiss me, but I jerk my head away.

“Tell me the truth. Is it because I’m a stripper? Because you think I’ve slept with other clients?”

“Emerald...”

“Don’t placate me.
Tell me
.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you’ve slept with, and I couldn’t care less that you’re a stripper. As a matter of fact I’m
happy
that you are; you’re doing something you’re good at, and you’re
far
away from customer service.” His eyes darken and he looks highly offended. “I
do
want to fuck you and
I am
going to fuck you—in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

I don’t say anything. I just wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him—unable to deal with this sexual tension any longer.

I want this.

He kisses me back with passion, dominating my lips, pushing my shoulders against the deck.

I moan as he traps my bottom lip between his teeth, as he slowly climbs on top of me.

“Fuck...” he whispers as I slip my hands into his shorts.

He tears his mouth away from mine and presses kisses against my neck, making me moan louder, making me want this even more.

I feel his dick hardening against my thigh and pull on his shorts—anxious to rip them off. Just as I have a good grip on them and am about to push them all the way down, he holds my hands still and stands up.

“What are you doing?” I pant.

“I need to take you home. Now.”

“
What
? I thought you said you wanted to fuck me.”

“I do.” He smiles and bends down to pick up the cooler. “But you’re not ready.”

“
Excuse me
?” I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear that right. “I’m not
ready
?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“Is there a series of tests I have to pass before I’m deemed
worthy
of your dick?”

Laughing, he gently pulls me up and places a kiss on my lips. “I’m not in the habit of fucking someone I barely know.”

“What the fuck do you want to know about me, Carter? What do you want to know?”

He ignores my questions and picks up the blanket, walking away to open the car’s passenger door.

I can’t believe this shit...

I glare at him, hoping that this is a dumbass joke and he’ll slam the door shut before pushing me onto the deck again, but he doesn’t.

He pulls the door open even wider. “Let’s go.”

I don’t speak to him on the short drive home. I sit in utter confusion, wondering what the hell is wrong with him.

“Emerald?” He’s suddenly at my door, reaching for my hand.

“Are you
gay
, Carter?”

He laughs and unbuckles my seatbelt. He helps me to my feet and walks me to the front door. “What time do I need to pick you up for work tomorrow?”

“If you’re gay I won’t be mad. I just need to know.”

He cups my face in his hands and kisses me until I’m breathless, telling me he’s straight without saying a word. “What time?”

“Six...”

“I’ll be here.” He kisses me one last time before motioning for me to go inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emerald.”

I
’m at the end of my routine, standing center stage with one hand on my hip and the other high above my head.

The men are shouting at me—“Don’t stop!” “More!” and tossing dollars at my feet. A couple of them have stepped towards the edge of the stage, beckoning me with crisp bills—pleading for me to step closer and bend down so they can personally pin them on me.

Swirls of smoke are filling the room and the music is getting louder and louder; the lust in the room is damn near palpable.

And I’m loving every second of it.

“Gentlemen...” The DJ’s voice is hoarse. “Give one last round of applause to
Raven
...”

The applause is louder than I’ve ever heard it, and I blow a kiss to the crowd before picking up all of the dollars and heading backstage.

“Somebody learns really fast.” Robyn hands me a makeup wipe as I sit at the vanity.

“Clearly not well enough. I still only get
one
song...”

She rolls her eyes. “Sarah called in earlier. You want to dance in her place at midnight?”

“Hell yeah!” I can’t believe it, but then I remember something. “I saw Sarah this morning. Did her car break down or something?”

From what I’ve learned by hanging out with her, Sarah isn’t the type to
ever
call off from work. She’s the type of employee that always shows up to work on time and hardly ever bends the rules.

Sighing, Robyn leans against the mirror. “She just realized that her mom is dead. It just hit her.”

My heart drops. “Have you talked to her within the last few hours? Is she okay?”

She raises her eyebrow. “What’s
this
? You’re actually acting concerned? Like she’s your friend?”

“She
is
my friend.” I think. “You are too...Right?”

“You’re adorable.” She smiles. “She’s fine. Well, as fine as you can be about something like that. I’m going to check on her tomorrow morning and I’ll pick you up on the way. In the meantime, do you want to dance or not? I need to tell Michael who’s taking her place in ten minutes.”

“I’m in.”

She nods and points to the closet, telling me to change into something different. Something much more provocative.

Excited, I rush over and pull out a sparkling black dress that’s so short it could be mistaken for a shirt. As I’m searching for an accessory to pair with it, I remember that I told Carter I’d be done by eleven.

Shit...

I know he’s probably on his way to pick me up, but I have no intention of leaving until
after
I dance again. I pull my phone out of my locker and call him.

“Emerald,” he answers.

“Is there a reason why you can’t say ‘
Hello
?’ like a normal person?”

“You called to discuss how I greet you over the phone?” There’s a smile in his voice. “Is The Phoenix that slow tonight?”

“Ugh, no. I was calling because I actually won’t be done for a while. I’m dancing in Sarah’s place, so that’s like
three songs
.” I try not to sound like this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. “I know you’re probably halfway here, but you don’t have to pick me up. I’ll um...I’ll ride back with Robyn and I’ll give you money for the gas you already wasted so—”

“I want to watch you.”

“What?”

“What time do you go on?”

“Midnight.”

“I’ll be there, and
I’ll
take you home.”

Silence.

“Emerald?” He breaks the silence. He’s the only man who’s ever been capable of making me wet over the phone.

“Yes?”

“Am I allowed to say
goodbye
now?”

I hang up and smile, honestly excited to have him watch me perform again. Since I have two hours before it’s my turn, I take my time getting ready.

I brush out all of my curls—opting to go for a sleek ponytail. I toss the shimmering black dress into the closet and change into a nude colored skirt, fishnet stockings, and a sheer white top with a hidden zipper in the front.

“Are we going on a
date
or are we
stripping
tonight?” Michael steps behind me in the mirror, crossing his arms.

“Don’t you have more tits to screen? Why are you back here?”

He laughs. “Funny. Tell me something. Is this job a temporary thing for you?”

“
All jobs
are temporary.”

“Okay. Please tell me you don’t actually
talk
to the customers in the private dance rooms.” He lights a cigarette. “Your sass probably costs you half of what you could be making. Is this temporary or not?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Well...I’m not usually for promoting someone new so soon, let alone someone with such a smart ass mouth, but there’s been a huge response to
Raven
so—”

“I get to be a premier dancer?”

“
Temporarily
.” He taps my shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later, after your date I guess.” He looks me up and down. “You do realize that they want to see you
without
your clothes, right? This isn’t fucking Broadway.”

I give him a blank stare and watch as he laughs at his own joke, as he clears his throat and straightens himself once he realizes he’s not as much of a hard-ass as he thinks he is.

“You’re due on stage in three minutes,” he says firmly.

I’m well aware of that, but since he insists on
always
having the last word, I nod and wait for him to walk away. Then, when I’m sure he’s gone and no one is around, I jump up and down like a child.

I can’t believe I’m a premier dancer. That means I’m one step closer to getting the hell out of Blythe, one step closer to actually doing something with my life.

“Gentlemen, there’s been a bit of a schedule change tonight...” The DJ’s voice interrupts my celebration and I rush behind the curtain.

“Coming to the stage for the second time tonight...” he continues, and I suddenly realize I don’t even know what songs are going to play. “Please welcome
Raven
...”

The curtain begins to rise and I hear a raucous applause. As the notes come through the speakers, I recognize the song—“Spaceship Coupe”—a long, eight minute affair that should be good enough.

I walk down the black runway and prepare to do a routine I’ve been secretly practicing for weeks. Scanning the crowd, I look for Carter and smile when I realize he’s front and center—looking like he wants to pull me down from the stage and drag me out of here.

Perfect.

Knowing that he’s watching my every move, I ease through the routine—dancing as if he’s the only man in the room, as if every bend of my body is a signal for him to finally fuck me. Tonight.

I can’t hear the applause and I don’t notice the dollars that are flying onto the stage. Every time I pause for effect or spin around on the pole, I look at Carter. Only Carter.

He shifts in his seat and I swear he’s mouthing messages to me, but I can’t make out any of them.

When the song ends, a short instrumental song begins and I start the tease part of my routine. I want to point to Carter and have him be the center of my attention for the final dance, but I don’t.

I pick the guy sitting to his right and beckon him to stand up and come closer to the stage.

He points to himself, as if to say, “Who? Me?” and I nod, giving him my foolproof smile.

On hands and knees, I crawl to the edge of the stage to meet him, knowing that I’m about to take every dollar in his pocket and make Carter insanely jealous.

The guy is the nervous type—clearly here with friends, so I gently caress his face with my hands and lean forward, whispering into his ear, “If we were alone right now, what would you do to me?”

He swallows and lets out a small laugh. “I....I...”