Page 8 of Tripp

I guess he didn’t leave after all.

Desperate to distract myself from wishing I were with the mystery stranger instead, I practically ran toward the room I needed.

Closing the door to the private space, I guided him toward the single chair in the center. Once he sat, I stepped back, being sure to give him my sexiest smile before turning around to hit the button for the music. All of the selections in the private rooms were seductive beats, nothing fast-paced. The idea was to drag out the dance as long as possible, hoping the customers would engage in another. Most times, it worked.

After my stage performance, I’d changed into a simple, short black dress which buttoned up all the way. It fell just below my plump ass cheeks and dipped very low in the front, practically exposing my very erect nipples. The cold blast of the air conditioning was always kept on high, ensuring ourarousal.

Shutting my eyes, I allowed the steady strum of the song to guide the flow of my body, swaying my hips while my hands danced over my skin. In my head, I was somewhere else. Alone. Not about to take off my clothes for some man I’d never met before. Just when I’d found my happy place,hepopped into my head. The way his eyes bore into mine while I was on stage. The way his breaths increased and the slight thumping of his pulse intensified the closer I stalked toward him. The way his jaw muscles clenched when I saw him glance at the other men surrounding the stage. He didn’t like that their eyes were glued to me, much like his were. It was slight, and quick, but I didn’t miss his possessive demeanor toward me. And I should have been frightened, but I wasn’t. I wanted his attention. Hell, I think I even wanted his hands on me while I danced, although that was definitely against the rules.

I circled the guy’s body, all while lightly touching him. First it was on the shoulder, letting my fingers trail over the fabric of his jacket. Then I ran my hand down the front of his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt halfway. Pleased when I felt defined muscles underneath, the guy was a nice change of pace from some of the men I had to deal with. So why couldn’t I stop picturingmygorgeous stranger?

Straddling my customer’s lap, my thighs pinning him to the chair, I ran my hands through his thick hair. Gripping his curly tresses, I yanked his head back so he was looking straight up at the ceiling. I heard a rumble erupt from his throat, knowing he was completely turned on—as if the evidence of his arousal straining against his pants wasn’t already a sign.

But then he tried to touch me, and that was a big no-no. A violation of the rules. Well,myrules. I knew for a fact there were girls here who had sex with some of the men who came in, but I wasn’t into that. The show I gave them was just that, a show. Dancing. That was all I’d ever do with these customers.

Apparently, this guy had other intentions.

“Nuh-uh-uh, big boy. No touching allowed,” I gently advised as I pried his hands off my ass and put them back on the arms of the chair.

“Ah, come on. All I want is to touch you. I won’t bite, I swear. Well, not unless you want me to.” He winked as if the gesture would make me change my mind. The lights were dimmed low but I could still make out his every feature, as I’m sure he could mine. I knew he noticed the warning look on my face, and when he made a move to grab me once more, I quickly removed myself from his lap and backed up.

I needed the money, so instead of calling security in to remove him, I tried my best to dispel the intensified moment. And fast. Needing him to focus on me and not my unwillingness to let him grope me, I grabbed the top of my dress and slowly pried it apart, the buttons making a delicious sound as each one popped open.

And we have success.

He licked his lips while his eyes devoured the very sight of me, his anticipation heavy for my next move. The skin of his hands turned pale, his grip on the chair certainly intense. Until it all became too much for him. Slipping his hand down his pants, he started to stroke himself, and I knew my situation had gone from tricky to unnerving. The way his eyes darkened frightened me, but I tried like hell not to show it.

My hands stilled on the last two buttons of my dress and I stopped dancing. Taking one step back, I told him, “There’s no touching allowed in here, honey.” A fake smile plastered on my face, my tone left no room for argument. I prayed he’d see I was serious and simply comply so I could finish, but something told me that scenario wasn’t going to play out for me.

“But I’m not touching you,” he responded, looking confused.

I pointed at his crotch. “No touching at all, not even yourself.”

Instant irritation contorted his expression, his eyes suddenly becoming darker than before. I knew he’d been drinking, but as the situation unfolded I realized there was something else wrong, something more dangerous. If I had to guess, I’d say he was high. On what, I had no idea, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“That’s a fucking stupid rule if you ask me,” he shouted, rising from the chair and taking a single step in my direction. “I’m paying good money, and if I can’t touch you then I sure as hell should be able to stroke my cock if I want.” There was fire in his eyes, and I knew I’d lost control of the situation. I frantically tried to figure out how I was going to move past the irate man and escape.

While I contemplated my next move, I put as much distance between us as possible. “Well, those are the rules and you have to abide by them if you want me to finish my dance.” I didn’t want to finish, not at all, but I’d say anything I needed to. “Can you please sit down so I can finish for you?” I asked as I popped another button, plastering on another fake smile to trick him into thinking he wasn’t frightening the hell out of me. The plan I’d come up with was to make him sit back down before I ran toward the door. Toward safety.

But he had other ideas.

Still standing, he barked, “How about you get fuckin’ naked and do what I’m paying you to do.” He crushed the space between us in two long strides, grabbing my arms before I could retreat. Standing at five foot eight, decently tall for a woman, I appeared much smaller with him towering over me. I’d been in these circumstances before, unfortunately—a hazard of the job—but usually the men were weak and drunk, easily persuaded to comply with my rules. This guy, however, was different. He scared me, and if I didn’t escape soon I feared he was going to attack me, uncaring if he hurt me or not. For all I knew, hewantedto hurt me.

“Please let go,” I pleaded, trying to shrug out of his bruising hold. When his grip intensified, I started to tremble. “You’re hurting me.” Still nothing. “Let go of me,” I screamed. “Now.” I tried to appear strong and fearless, but my tone betrayed me.

“You’re not going anywhere until I get what I paid for, you little slut.” With his final word, he shoved me so hard I fell on my ass, instant pain shooting up my back and breaking out at my shoulders. Shock knocked me dizzy, allowing him to start to disrobe. He loosened his tie and ripped his shirt open in a flash, the muscles I thought were so appealing minutes before terrifying me now. His fingers popped the button of his pants before quickly working on his zipper as he approached my crumpled form.

Thankfully, the daze I’d been in dissipated and I shot to my feet, making a run for it. He caught my wrist as I rushed past, however, whipping me around and slamming me against the nearest wall. I tried to fight him off but I was simply no match. “Get off me, you bastard!” I cried, fear setting in that no one was going to hear me. Not over that damn music, both inside our room and out. My only saving grace would be if someone happened to be walking by at that exact moment.

“Now,” he said, as he gripped the sides of my dress, “we’re gonna have some fun.” Popping the remaining button of my dress, he ripped the material from my body and tossed it to the floor beside me. I tried to cover myself, but he grabbed my hands with one of his and held them above my head. Trying to kick him did nothing but earn me a punishing grip to my slender waist. “Keep on fighting me, sweetheart. I love a good struggle.”

There was nothing I could do. I was utterly helpless. My arms were restrained and his hips were pinning my own to the wall, adhering my fears to his excitement. His lips roamed over my neck, biting and licking me as if he wasn’t forcing me into this position.

I continued to struggle, but the only thing I accomplished was wearing myself out. When my attempt at escape became futile, I started to cry. Honestly, I’d been surprised it’d taken me that long for the tears to start flowing. While I was lost to my breakdown, his free hand moved from my waist and down my body, traveling over the skimpy material covering my sex.

He rubbed his fingers over my core, trying to gain entrance by sliding the lace to the side. “You’ll like this. I promise,” he mumbled, his ministrations becoming more persistent. I wriggled in his hold, finding a spurt of energy, and as he took a small step back I finally found my opportunity to attack.

His face was mere inches from my own when I struck his nose with my head. A chilling sound erupted from his mouth before he released me and stumbled back, his hands instantly flying up to cover his face. Blood coated his fingers, but I didn’t hear bone crunching so I doubted I broke his nose.Pity.

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