Chloe looked at me like I’d turned from her grandmother into the big bad wolf. Her eyes narrowed, but she got up and restarted the music. I can’t remember what it was. I wasn’t interested in the music.

Turning her back to me she started to sway from side to side. Then she shook her hips, and I felt a smile creep across my face. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. God, she had a gorgeous body.

Slowly, she turned her backside to me and danced towards me until the backs of her legs touched mine. Then, holding the front of her bra over her breasts she unhooked the back so that I was looking at her naked back save the G-string. It was all I could do not to reach out and touch that luminous skin, take her and pull her onto my lap. But, for more reasons than I could count, I stifled a groan and refrained.

Sensuously, she turned to face me. When her eyes met mine there was a defiance there that intrigued me. Never dropping her gaze for a minute, she dropped her blinged-out bra to the ground, and as tempted as I was to partake in an up-close view of those nipples that were making my mouth water a few minutes ago, the connection between us felt as strong as a powerful magnet, and there was no way I was going to be the one to look away first.

With a flick of her wrist she ran her fingers through my hair. The smirk on her face told me she got a kick out of messing it up. I grinned as she stepped over my leg and walked around behind me. More fingers in my hair. I’d have a major case of bedhead by the time she got through with me, but I didn’t care.

The electricity running from her body to mine made me realize how much I’d missed the touch of another person. That long-buried need swam to the surface, and I took in a deep breath of air.

Fingernails lightly scraped the back of my neck, and all the hairs on my body stood on end.

God, I wanted more.

I wanted to touch her back, but a sinking feeling inside told me that wasn’t going to happen.

Touching the dancer was off-limits.

She was off-limits.

Dancing back into my line of sight, Chloe twirled around the other side of the love seat and did a deep knee-bend until her butt was on the floor in front of me. She leaned back then lifted her legs in the air before opening them wide. Apparently this was too much for my cock because it sprung to life and started pushing hard against my trousers.

Fuuuuuck!

Then, as if I weren’t hard enough, she licked her fingers one by one and started teasing her nipples. They closed into tight little buds, and I thought I’d lose my mind.

I tried to act like I’d seen a naked girl before, but it had been a while, and I’d truly forgotten how powerful the thrill of the opposite sex could be.

She started to get up and for a minute she was on her knees in front of me, her face level with my bulging erection. I took a mental snapshot, knowing I’d keep that picture in the fantasy memory bank for eternity. Soon she was back on her feet, rocking her hips back and forth about a foot in front of me.

The music stopped.

She bit her lip and looked at me, a question in her eyes.

I simply nodded at her. I wanted more. I’d fucking pay for it. Whatever she wanted, but I wasn’t ready for her to stop yet.

She nodded and pressed the button. The music started up again.

But this time she picked a different song, and when she came back over she straddled my lap her breasts inches from my face. Her hips pulsed back and forth with the beat, and she dropped her pelvis lower and began to grind against my lap. She raised her hands over her head and shook her hips so that her pussy brushed against my cock.

Making eye contact again, I could see by her half-smile and that knowing look in her eye that she’d felt it, and she was pleased by my reaction.

Of course there was no other possible response. She was literally sexy as sin. More than anything I wanted to unzip my pants, grab those voluptuous hips of hers and pull her down onto my cock, bury myself inside her and bob her up and down until she came all over my stiff rod.

My lust raged for this girl and she knew it.

It seemed to amuse her, and that irritated me.

But what sort of reaction did I expect from a woman whose job was to arouse every Tom, Dick, and Harry? Only the most foolish men imagined that the strippers they admired actually desired them back.

I exhaled, closed my eyes, and tried to get my mind right.

Then I opened my eyes to see if Chloe had noticed my internal struggle.

Nope. She wasn’t even looking at me. Her heavily mascaraed lids remained half-closed and she seemed to be almost in a trance as she rocked her body close to mine, occasionally touching, but more often teasing.

I took a deep breath and settled back in my seat. The best thing I could do was relish every second of this. I promised myself I could revisit my neurosis later. But for now I needed to commit this scene to memory. Something else I could return to later, when I was alone and the only person I was in danger of defiling was myself.

Chloe twerked the lower half of her body over my lap, her hands purposely caressing those delectable breasts of hers, cupping them in her hands, practically offering them to me. My libido was on fire, and I was thinking I was going to need another beer to cool off after getting so worked up. If it weren’t so seedy, I’d find the bathroom and finish myself off in there, but I needed to retain some semblance of decorum. When the song was over she lowered herself onto my lap, put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.

It took every ounce of restraint I had not to wrap my arms around her and crush those luscious lips of hers to mine. I wanted to kiss her hard and deep, to drink her in like a thirsty man after long days in the desert.

I didn’t have long to think about it before she untangled herself from me and stepped back. She bent to pick up her bra.

“Can I help you with that?” I asked, painfully aware of the naked desire in my voice.

“Sure,” she said humoring me, and she covered her breasts with it then turned to let me fasten the back. She appeared to be as comfortable without her clothes as with them, and for some reason that made her even more attractive. Perhaps it was because it was so different from most women I knew, particularly the ones I came into contact with on a daily basis.

Her back still to me, she spoke. “So, you didn’t really come here for a lap dance. I feel bad for corrupting you like that.” She spun around. “What did you really want, Father?”

“Reverend,” I corrected. “And I wanted to get your number.”

“What for?” She looked confused.

“So I could call you. Ask you out. Or maybe text . . . Do people even call each other anymore?”

She ignored my question. “You want to go out with a stripper? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Well . . . I didn’t know you were a stripper. See, I thought you were a waitress.”

She shrugged. “And now? Now, that you know sometimes I’m also a ‘performer,’ you’re not interested anymore.”

She started to walk off, but I reached out and grabbed her arm. I had to stop doing that.

“No, now I think I’m even more interested.”

She laughed harder. “You are some kinda fucked up priest. You know that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. So, what do you say? Can I take you out for coffee after you get off work?”

“You’re for real? You want to have coffee with me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I can’t. I go from here straight to another job, and if I’m late my boss there pitches a fit. She’s already cut back my hours which is why I’m dancing again in this shithole.” Then she realized she’d cursed and put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Okay.” She looked towards the front of the bar. “I gotta get back out there.”

I pulled out my phone and handed it to her. “Your number.”

She fumbled with it and started punching in what I hoped was her real phone number. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. I don’t date much. I’m very focused on my career.”

I must have unintentionally raised my eyebrows because she said, “Not this one. My other one. I’m a pastry chef. Trying to get my own shop . . . it’s just, oh never mind.”

“No, I’m really interested. See? You can tell me about it over coffee. When’s your day off?”

“The next one is Tuesday.”

“Great. So, I’ll take you somewhere for coffee Tuesday. I’ll text you and you tell me a time that’s good for you.”

She nodded, handed me back my phone, and looked ready to flee.

Instead I pulled her in by her wrist and enveloped her in my arms. I hugged her tight. Her head fit just perfectly under my chin, and I pressed her small frame against my chest. At first she remained rigid, but as she realized I wasn’t going to kiss her or grab her ass, that I was only holding her, she relaxed. I’d surmised that she didn’t get a lot of hugs—plain, old, affectionate hugs—the kind that made us feel human, like someone cared. I expected that she got a lot more ass slaps, groping, and sloppy kisses than simple affection, and I thought she could probably use one. Slowly her arms came up behind my waist and she hugged me back.

I won’t lie and say it felt as good as the lap dance, but it was a close second. The more time I spent around this irrepressible girl the more connected we felt.

After a few moments I kissed her on the top of the head and whispered, “Thank you for the dance, Chloe.” Then I turned and walked out.

As I walked to my car, I was so overcome with infatuation that it didn’t occur to me to notice if anyone had seen me leaving the strip club.