Page 16 of Fakers with Benefits

“You look like a Quinn, way more than Stone.” I sat with that for a moment. “Thanks for trusting me with your real name. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Sore?” He nodded to where I was still trying to work out the knot behind my knee with my fingers.

“Two nights of pole work catches up to you.”

Leaning back against the wall, he patted his thigh. “Want help working your muscles out?”

“So much yes.” I spun on the bench and stretched my legs over his lap, bracing my hands behind me. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He ran his palm down the back of one of my calves, pushing just hard enough the muscle lengthened and stretched.

“So what do you do when you do get those kinds of offers?” I asked, circling back to my rich-dude problem.

“Most of my inquiries come from social media so they’re easier to deal with. If they’re rude, I ignore them. If they’re respectful, I politely decline. If they persist, I block them. When it’s a more personal approach, I explain my position and refuse to engage with them again if they don’t drop it.”

“So I should ignore him?”

“I think you should do what your gut is telling you to do. If you’re getting bad vibes, trust it. If you think you want to learn more, then do it, but make sure you put your safety first.”

“Gray says that to me all the time. Trust your gut. But my gut also told me that getting a perm last summer was a good idea, so what does that bitch know?”

Stone threw back his head and laughed.

“I think my FOMO will beat my brain up for the rest of my life if I don’t at least see what he wants.” I sighed as Stone—Quinn—used his thumbs to knead my calf. “Oh Mylanta you’re good at that.”

“You learn a few tricks when you’ve been around as long as I have.”

“Dude, you’re what? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-seven.” He moved to my other leg. “But I’ve been dancing since I was a kid.”

“You have?”

I knew next to nothing about him, other than he was super popular in porn, had an OnlyFans, and stripped as a side hustle.

He nodded. “I was a theater nerd with ADHD. I did all sorts of lessons when I was younger. Dance, gymnastics, singing, acting.”

“A theater nerd?” I perked up.

“Yup. Even went to a performing arts high school. Were you into theater?”

“Oh yeah.” I nodded enthusiastically. “My parents couldn’t afford a lot of extras, but they managed to keep me in dance lessons until I was fifteen. I was a total theater nerd in high school.”

He gently cupped my foot. “Want me to rub your feet for you?”

“Oh my god yes. But fair warning, I’ll probably fall in love with you if you do a good job.”

He chuckled and squeezed my arch. “I’ll risk it.”

I bit back a moan. “Your hands are magic. I’m going to need you to clone yourself so I can get this after every shift.”

“What are you gonna do about that job offer?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I think I need to hear him out, but I’ve watched way too many true-crime stories on TikTok that start out exactly like this and end up with the pretty stripper buried in a field under some endangered plants and a coyote corpse.”

“That’s…an oddly specific scenario.”

“You’d be surprised how many people think cops can’t dig up endangered plants if they’re looking for a body. Spoiler alert, they can. And they probably will if there’s some random endangered plant not native to the area over a fresh grave. That’s why you put an animal corpse in a shallow grave and bury the body in a deep one. They’ll stop when they find the coyote and move on.”

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