Zeb…

“Hey, bro,” I said kindly, with a nod to Zeke.

“You don’t have to stop up front, you know,” he said.

“Ah, nah, yeah, I know. I wanted to. Wanted to see how you were doing.” He gave a shrug and shook his head, mouth drawn and grim. I nodded and he moved the frayed rope aside.

“Since you’re here, you might want to get in there. It’s Francesca’s last dance.”

“Thanks, bro. I reckon I owe you a cold one some night.”

“Maybe after the weather warms up,” he said, but though it was meant to be humorous there was no humor in it. Delia being gone hit Zeke harder than anyone realized and it didn’t take a genius to realize that he had been as secretly infatuated with her as she had been with that Cooper bloke.

I wish I could have given Zeke the cold satisfaction of knowing what’d been done with Cooper but I wasn’t about to put any of my bros in the club in any danger of word getting to the cops around here, not over some guy I barely knew and his feelings for a girl I knew even less. That was just madness and would be me begging to be put out bad. I’d walked that path once, even if it had been for honorable intentions. I wouldn’t be trying it again.

I went into the club’s dimly-lit interior and Alan, Tiffany’s boss straightened up at the bar. He gave me a chin lift and I went over.

“A drink, on me. What will you have?”

“Gizza a beer,” I said to the bartender and he gave me a nod with a quizzical look.

“I’m going to assume that meant ‘give me’ somehow,” Alan said with a smile and I grinned.

“Ah, yeah, I do it without thinking, I reckon. Use things like that from back home.”

“I figured.”

“How’re things?” I asked.

“Could be better. From a business stand-point, not too bad, from the standpoint of being worried about my girls and the rest of my employees…” He trailed off and shook his head, bowing it and grabbing the back of his neck.

I made a decision. “If I told you ‘No worries, bro’, would you believe me?” I asked.

He eyed me skeptically for a second and then a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes and he nodded slowly. “The reputation of your club proceeds you when it comes to believing. Your jacket definitely buys you some trust in this matter.”

The bartender returned and set a bottle of beer on one of those paper coasters in front of me. I picked it up and took a swig.

“Francesca is about to perform her last dance; I saved you a seat by the stage,” Alan said and gestured out that way with one hand.

“Thanks,” I said and he led me over to a chair by a small round table just enough to hold my beer, an ashtray, and a pack of smokes if I had the latter. I wished I could fire up a blunt to mellow out some, but that would have to be later.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” he said and clapped me on the shoulder. I nodded and with a smile, he was gone.

I settled in and took another swig of my beer. It was one of them good ones, not the cheap kind to scull to get down so you didn’t have to taste it.

The dancer on the stage was just finishing up and the announcer came over the sound system.

“Alright, thank you, Candy! Let’s give Candy a round of applause.”

There was a smattering of clapping and an enthusiastic whistle and the music transitioned to some bass-heavy 80’s music.

“Please welcome to the stage for her last dance, everybody, it’s your very own queen of the night – let’s give it up for Francesca!”

The music blared heavier and that hard-hitting voice that made you want to rise out of your seat declared she had everything I needed and more. I felt my lips curve into an appreciative smile as Tiffany burst from the curtains, striding along the stage one foot in front of the other, hands on her hips like she owned the night.

She made it to the pole and went around once, putting her back to it, sliding down, her knees parted and gloved hands, those fancy black satin ones that went to her elbow, tracing a line between her breasts over her stomach, tantalizingly to the waistband of the barely there scrap of panties covering her sex.

She had it. She knew just what she did to me, her eyes sparkling behind the black lace mask covering the one side of her face. The bass hit and she stood and did some really amazing shit around that pole that had every man around the stage panting for her, except I’d be the only one who got to lick, and I would until she came writhing underneath me as soon as I got her back to my flat.

She moved like fluid fire around that damn brass pole and along the black lacquered stage and there was something different about her. An unbridled joy to her dancing that I’d never seen before and I realized that she was performing her heart out up there and she was both beautiful and so fierce it squeezed my damn heart.

She made her way down the steps rather than do her seductive crawl like the first time I’d seen her dance, and made her way along the tables and chairs, drifting fingers teasingly over shoulders, giving one guy a playful shove against his forehead, until she came to me. She straddled my legs and bowed swiftly, coming up with her tits practically in my face and I couldn’t say there was a complaint to be had about that. She turned around and gave me a spectacular view of her ass, and it was everything in me to keep my hands to myself as per the house rules.

She leaned back against me and I got an equally spectacular view over her shoulder, down between the valley of her breasts, her ass pressed lightly over my dick which was straining at the inside of my fly. She undulated against me, rubbing lightly against my crotch and I just about died and went to heaven.

She eased her bra off and held it off to one side, dropping it delicately, turning around again and sitting full on my lap, topless and alluring, her arms around my neck as she looked me in the eyes and with a wicked little smile, she kissed me. I lost what little self-control I had for a second and gripped her ass, pulling her hard up against me. The only thing between me and her and getting it on right there pretty much just my jeans.

She came up for air and, certain I had her, she bent all the way back, her hands kneading her breasts, her hips writhing over mine and I couldn’t wait to recreate this without the damn clothes back at my place.

She came up slowly, passion in her eyes and I let her go when she stood. She took me by the hand and I stood with her. A little pirouette beneath my arm, she took a bow for the men, collected her cash from the floor around us and blew kisses, then took my hand again and with a little wave over her shoulder, led me to the back.

The way back, before she turned around and kissed me fiercely again. We broke the kiss, both of us breathing hard and I asked, “What the fuck was that?”

She smiled a little smile and said, “I saved the last dance for you.”

“I see!” I exclaimed.

She smiled a little secretive smile and asked, “You park out front?”

“Yeah, I’ll pull it around.”

She shook her head and said, “I walked in the front door of this club the first time I ever came here, I think it’s fitting I walk out the front when I leave.”

I blinked, the gravity of what she was saying hit me.

“You quit?” I asked.

She nodded. “Alan and I talked. It’s time.”

I pulled her to me, an unexpected relief flooding through me, the tension draining out of me. I kissed her with a ferocity I’d never really dared try with her before, but I needed to. This was a kiss that said, you’re mine and she stepped into it, pressing tightly up against me, her perfect tits molding to the front of my leathers, her hands finding my ass and pulling me closer.

“God, I need you to fuck me,” she breathed and I realized what was different about that last dance. She was as turned on as I was, dancing for me, and she’d let herself go for real. Let herself feel the music, the vibe, just everything about it.

“Here? Now?” I asked.

She shook her head, “Never here. Not with you. Let me throw my clothes on and my shit together and take me home.”

I grinned and said, “Sounds good to me,” except I could never do that. Never take her home, because, for me, home was halfway across the world in New Zealand.