Honey

 

Honey stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, giving herself a once-over. She’d been told that some high-roller in the crowd had requested her special attention, and she wanted to make sure she looked her best. As she touched up her makeup and smoothed out her hair, she went through the same thought process she did whenever she got a request for a private lap dance. Honey wondered what he’d look like, if he’d be disgusting, and if he’d try to take more than she was obliged to give him.

 

Honey had an arrangement with Charlie: she had final say on whether or not she did anything sexual with any of the private customers, so long as she kept bringing in the big bucks during her routines, as well as giving Fantasies its cut of the private dances. Being one of the prime attractions of the strip club, and one who men seemed to want to pay money hand over fist just for the chance of sleeping with, Honey was able to dictate terms that other girls couldn’t. And that worked out just fine for her—she didn’t mind putting her body on display, but reducing herself to a whore was a line that she just wasn’t willing to cross.

 

Okay, she thought. Time to do this.

 

She picked out a skimpy, sexy little satin robe that barely covered her breasts and only went down to her mid-thighs and gave herself one last glance in the mirror before starting towards the exit.

 

“Damn, girl,” said Bethany, arriving at that moment. “Someone’s dress to kill. Or fuck. Or both.”

 

“Just a private dance is all,” she said.

 

“Lucky,” said Bethany. “I heard through the grapevine that whoever’s waiting for you right now slammed down more cash to see you than I’m gonna be making in the next two nights.”

 

Honey felt her stomach tighten a little at that. She was resolute as always about not sleeping with any of these men but worried that if one of them was going to be paying out the nose for a private dance, he was going to be expecting a happy ending. Charlie had told her that he always made it clear to the customer that nothing of that sort was guaranteed, no matter what they paid, but she still couldn’t help but worry that some drunk with a fragile ego and too much money might one day flip out and do something. Luckily, guards were always nearby to make sure that nothing got too out of control.

 

“Well, I should get going,” said Honey, tying the robe shut.

 

“Can’t keep the high-rollers waiting,” said Bethany with a wink. “Let me know how it goes.”

 

Honey said her goodbyes and headed off. A guard was waiting for her in the back hallway leading to the private rooms. All of the hulking brutes looked the same to Honey, and she could never keep straight any of the massive bruisers who provided security. And she often found herself wondering just why there were so many of them. Sure, a strip club needed security, but sometimes it felt to her like it was employing a small army.

 

“He’s inside,” said the guard in a gruff voice.

 

With that, he pushed the door open and Honey stepped inside. She gasped when she saw who awaited her.

 

It was him.

 

It was the man who’d been watching her, the one that she couldn’t help but stare at. Up close and personal like this, Honey could see that he was even more handsome than he appeared from a distance. His stunning facial features looked carved out of stone, and Honey could see that a dusting of stubble covered his wide jaw and strong chin. His eyes were narrowed at her in a scheming manner, and he sat with his thick, ropy arms draped over the back of the cheap couch. He was a paying customer, but something about his commanding presence made it look like he owned the place.

 

“Um, hi,” said Honey.

 

She normally affected a sultrier tone to her voice when meeting men for private dances, but this guy was just so goddamn good-looking that Honey had felt like she’d been knocked on her ass from the moment she’d laid eyes on him up close. Honey walked to the center of the room, R&B music piped in through the speakers filling the silence. Feeling totally off her game, Honey stood there awkwardly with her hands at her sides.

 

“Hey,” said the man in a voice that was even, calm, and collected.

 

Honey felt terribly nervous, but at the same time, something about this man’s confident, calm demeanor put her at ease.

 

“You waiting for orders or something?” he asked.

 

Oh shit, Honey thought. I’m supposed to be doing a job here. Get your head in the game, Honey.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” she said.

 

Honey watched the man’s eyes drift up and down her body, lingering on her breasts and curves. Normally, it grossed her out a bit when customers eye-fucked her like that. Something about this guy, however, made her feel sexy as his gaze lingered on her.

 

“They call you Honey, huh?” he asked.

 

“They do,” she said, beginning to move her hips slowly to the music. “And I’m sweet, just like it.”

 

A little laugh-snort left his nose.

 

“First time you use that line?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said. “Probably the four-hundredth.”

 

Her eyes went wide at her own words. Part of the job was maintaining the illusion of her being some kind of mindless sexual being, a creature put on earth for the pleasure of whatever man she was currently dancing for. A behind-the-scenes quip like that was not something she should’ve been saying. Still, something about this guy made her feel comfortable enough to be herself. Kind of.

 

“And what’s your name, handsome?” she asked.

 

“Grit,” he said.

 

“Does that mean you’re all sorts of rough?”

 

“So I hear,” he said.

 

“Then I’ll be sweet, and you can be rough,” said Honey, making her way over to him. “How does that sound?”

 

“Sounds good,” he said in that smooth voice of his. “Why don’t you come here and sit down?”

 

“Sure,” Honey said, figuring he was about ready to put his hands all over her.

 

Depending on the customer, Honey could establish ground rules about how much touching they were able to do. If they were the disgusting type, she could say that it was a strict “I touch you, but you can’t touch me” policy. And if they objected, well, a guard was right outside the door to make sure they knew the rules up and down. This guy, on the other hand, she was ready to let do things that she wouldn’t normally allow just any customer to do.

 

Honey took a seat on the couch, tucking her hair behind one ear as she did. She was only a foot or so from Grit, and the heat radiating from his body was doing things to her that she wasn’t prepared to have happen.

 

“You been working here for long?” asked Grit.

 

“About a year,” she said, the truth slipping out again.

 

What is this guy doing to me? she thought. How is he having this effect on me?

 

“Pretty girl like you,” he said, “shouldn’t be working at a place like this.”

 

“I get that a lot, actually,” said Honey. “Um, people saying that I oughta be working in modeling or something. I don’t know.”

 

The sex-bomb act was faltering by the second, and Honey found herself just being, well, herself. Grit reached over to her and ran his fingers along the bare skin of her upper arm, his touch like electricity. Honey took in a sharp breath as he touched her, closing her eyes and savoring the sensation. She felt his hands move down, slowly, down to her stomach. His hands came to a rest for a brief moment on her hips. Then, with an effortless motion, he lifted her up and placed her on his lap.

 

“That’s much better,” he said.

 

Honey looked down and saw that she was straddling Grit. Her eyes locked onto his crotch, and she could see the outline of what was assuredly a massive cock. He breathing was short and her heart raced. She’d never felt like this with a customer before.

 

Grit moved his hands along her body, coming to a rest on her breasts through her robe. His fingertips toyed with her nipples for a moment, getting them good and hard. Honey closed her eyes once again, her lips opening just a bit, her tongue moving over them. Kissing was normally a total no-go for customers, but at that moment, Honey felt like this man could do anything she wanted with her.

 

With a quick tug, Grit undid the sash of her robe. He pulled the fabric off over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Honey felt herself get wetter by the second, and part of her wanted this man to just take what it was that he so clearly wanted.

 

“What … what are you gonna do?” asked Honey, the tension running through her body almost too much to bear.

 

“I’m …” said Grit. “I’m gonna talk to you for a minute. That’s all.”

 

“What?” asked Honey. “What could you possibly want to talk about?”

 

“Here, nothing,” said Grit. “’Cause this place is wired with cameras.”

 

“What?”

 

That was a shock to her. No one had told her anything about cameras; these were supposed to be private rooms.

 

“Yup,” said Grit. “Spotted them as soon as I opened the door. There’s one in the dresser over by the bed, and the other one’s in the fake bookshelf. But don’t look; they’ll know you see them if you look right at them. Probably wired for sound, too. That’s why I need you nice and close.”

 

“O-okay,” said Honey. “But why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because I want to talk to you, but this isn’t the place to do it. I want to talk with you about something very, very important.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“Don’t stop doing what you were doing,” said Grit in a low whisper. “It’ll look suspicious.”

 

Honey checked herself and began grinding on Grit as she normally would on a customer.

 

“I want you to meet me at the Sunset Hotel after your shift. What time you get off?”

 

“Um, in a couple of hours,” she said, still rubbing her body on his.

 

“Perfect. I can’t tell you how important it is that you meet me there,” said Grit. “Do I have your word that you’ll show?”

 

Honey would normally never meet with a customer off-hours like that, away from the eyes of Fantasies. But nothing about this encounter was normal. And something told her that Grit was telling the truth, that it was, in fact, very important that they talk.

 

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll show.”

 

“Good,” said Grit.

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small keycard. Then, he slipped it into the little pocket on Honey’s robe.

 

“That’s for my hotel room. I’ll be there all night. Come by as soon as you’re done here.”

 

“Sure,” said Honey, feeling like she was in some kind of a daze.

 

She continued to dance, turning around and rubbing her ass on Grit’s crotch, sighing softly as she felt his cock harden through his jeans.

 

“Now, turn around,” he said, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

 

Honey obeyed without a word. Grit narrowed his sexy green eyes and looked her over once again; this time there was a hunger in his eyes, something primal and animalistic. He clamped his hands onto her hips once again, but this time pulled her close, so close, until her face was only inches from his. She looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth slacked open just a bit. Then, he closed the distance between them and kissed her hard on the lips. Honey fell into the kiss instantly, her body going slack as she allowed herself to drop into Grit’s lap. They kissed hard and deep, Honey’s arms wrapping around his neck and Grit’s hand moving up to her breast.

 

Then, after a few moments of this sensual kissing, Grit lifted her up from his lap and set Honey back onto her feet.

 

“Now get going,” he said. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

 

With that, Honey stepped towards the door, opened it, and went back into the hallway.

 

“All good in there?” asked the bouncer as he followed her back to the dressing room.

 

“Yeah,” said Honey. “All very, very good.”