3

Foster

The moment she stepped on stage I knew she was beautiful, but when she sat down at the bar she was absolutely intoxicating. Those crimson red lips beckoned to my cock while she flagged the bartender down, and I couldn’t help but swivel my chair towards her. The outfit she had on was perfect. It molded to every curve of her body while keeping the most important parts a complete secret. She was a boxed up present-- perfectly wrapped for the shape it was but never once gave away what was underneath.

I watched her grasp her martini glass and swirl the olives around the edge. She was a classy woman underneath that sultry act. There was hardly a woman in this city who didn’t order a cocktail that was brightly colored, and I watched as her eyes connected with mine. I raised my glass to her in a toast. I was toasting outwardly to her success, but I was toasted inwardly to mine.

I didn’t know how, but this was the woman I was getting home tonight.

She turned back to the stage after she had studied me for quite some time and I turned my attention back to the bar. I had no intentions of watching any of the other acts unless she hit the stage again. I could tell by the panting of her chest that she was just as caught up in the moment as I was. And it only solidified my theory when I caught her eyes flicking back towards me.

Every once in awhile, when she thought I wasn’t looking, those mysterious blue eyes would find their way back to my face. So, I grabbed my drink and headed towards her before I took a seat at the bar next to her.

“Your performance was incredible. Was that arrangement your own?” I asked.

I saw the eyebrow she cocked onto her head. I knew she thought no one in the club would recognize how foreign the song was, but I did. I knew of every rendition and every remix that song has ever taken on, and even that was new to me.

“Yes, it was. I’m surprised you knew that,” she said.

“A woman like you must have her talents on and off the stage. Call it a lucky guess,” I said.

“Then I shall consider it as such.”

“It’s also interesting how you chose the color red anyway, given that your eyes are substantially blue. Most women would’ve played off that,” I said.

“Well, I’m not most women,” she said.

“I can tell that simply by the drink you ordered. An actual martini instead of a brightly-colored, sweetened concoction passed off as one,” I said.

“You are martini connoisseur, Mr…?”

“Dobson. Foster Dobson. And no, I’m simply a connoisseur of women.”

“Which translates into ‘I’m going to attempt to take you home with me and make you part of the platter’. Correct?” she asked.

I heard the bartender snicker and I couldn’t help but grin. Now I understood why she chose the color red. It wasn’t some stereotypical ploy to woo the men from the stage she had just been on. It was the color that matched her attitude.

And I would enjoy silencing that attitude with my cock tonight.

“There is no platter, Miss…?”

“You can simply call me ‘Ella’,” she said.

“Miss Ella. There is no platter. Simply yourself and a man who wants to let you know how thoroughly beautiful and entertaining you are,” I said.

“Your words are very kind, Mr. Dobson.”

“They should be. Everyone deserves a bout of kindness every now and again,” I said.

She turned her gaze towards me and I caught it. I knew if I could just get her to look at me, to see the passion in my eyes and the way my strong body was leaning towards her, she would cave. I watched her body instinctively lean in towards me, trying to get closer as my eyes fluttered up and down her body.

“Mr. Dobson?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Ella?”

“It’s-”

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Mhm?”

Our lips were close. So close that I could smell her perfume. So close I could feel her body heat. So close I could see the shimmering accent of the powder she’d placed onto her luscious bosom before her performance.

“It has been a pleasure. However, it’s time for my second debut,” she said.

Before I could register what was going on, she threw back the rest of her martini, slid the olives off the stick with an incredibly long tongue, and left to go backstage. I could feel the bartender smirking at me, taunting me with the laughter that threatened to burst forth from his throat.

For the first time in my life, a woman had left me breathless.

I made my way to the side of the stage just as she came back out. The men in the room went wild as I took a seat in a dark corner, and I simply watched her performance. I watched the way she walked effortlessly in her blood red heels. I watched the way her hips naturally swayed to the rhythm of the little number I could tell was also arranged by her. The way her low notes simply slid from her tongue rumbled my chest in a way no woman’s voice ever had before.

It made me wonder if she sounded like that in bed. If her pleasure would rumble my ribcage or shatter my eardrums.

I was impressed. With the way she moved and the way she sang. With the songs she had arranged and the outfit she had chosen. She was bringing the entire package to a performance I could tell meant a great deal to her, and I wanted to catch her after tonight and ask her why it was so important.

Why she was so invested in a club like this.

I bet she had a story. I bet she had dreams and aspirations this club would help her to obtain. I bet she sat around in whatever dank apartment she could afford on this end of town and daydreamed about song arrangements with her sticky little keyboard. I bet she was a starving artist type-- living off her dreams and passions while eating ramen noodles every night.

I could treat her to the most decadent foods this city had to offer, if only she’d let me.

I stood and clapped as her performance came to an end, and I swelled with pride when I saw her scanning the crowd. She tried to make it look as if she were just taking it all in, but her eyes were searching.

Looking.

Hunting.

And I knew exactly who she was looking for.

I knew exactly what I would do to her. I’d shove my cock between those pretty lips just to see what her throat felt like before I’d spear her down onto my lap. I’d mark her tits and her stomach just so she’d need extra makeup for the rest of her performances this week. I’d bury my face into that sweet pussy and ruin it for any man that came after me. I’d pull orgasm after orgasm from her body until she was begging me to stop.

Then, I’d give her one last bout of pleasure before I finally let her rest on the silk sheets her juices were sure to drench.

She walked off stage and I headed towards the bar. I knew that’s where she would be heading. She’d order herself another martini and act as if she was simply taking a break, but the relief would waft over her face when she’d see me sit right down next to her.

And the pride that flooded my chest when her eyes lit up at my presence made me smirk.

Deep down, every single one of them was the same.

“Sir? Put her drink on my tab and close me out,” I said.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Consider it a ‘congratulations’. You were phenomenal up there. I expected you to change your costume, but it worked for a second time. It’s hard for a performer to pull that off.”

“Ah well, I try my best,” she said playfully.

“Is this what you’ve always wanted to do? Perform in a cabaret club and sway your hips to hungry men whose eyes are full of you?” I asked.

“I’ve always wanted to perform, period,” she said. “And now that I’ve officially been hired, this will provide for me the money I need to live the life I want.”

“Well, then actual ‘congratulations’ are in order,” I said as we clinked glasses. “To the future.”

“To the future,” she said.

“So, what is this glamorous life a beautiful woman like yourself seeks?”

“An apartment I can afford on my own so I don’t have to have roommates and a little labradoodle that curls up with me at night,” she said.

“I didn’t realize men were being called by dog’s names nowadays. I mean, I know some of us have high sex drives, but that’s a bit much,” I said.

She giggled and the sound flowed over my body like hot caramel. It was deep and chested. Like the low notes that flowed like melted butter from between her lips.

Holy hell, I was never going to want her sounds to go away.

“Clever. I meant an actual labradoodle. They aren’t the cheapest dogs to own, but they’re beautiful and incredibly loyal.”

“So is the right man, if you play the game correctly,” I said.

“Are you putting your bid in the hat?” she asked.

“I could be convinced, for the right price,” I said.

I watched her cheeks flush red, and for the first time her innocence pulled to the front. I caught of glimpse of just how round her cheeks were and just how doe-eyed her blue eyes were. She obviously contoured her makeup to make her features seem slimmer on stage, but the way her petite little nose crinkled when she laughed flooded my system with a sense of relief.

And I honestly wasn’t sure why.

“And what price would that be?” she asked.

“Why don’t you join me on the third floor and we can talk about it without all the hustle and smoke around us?” I asked.

I watched her smile, and the sultry maiden from the stage was gone. In her place was a flourishing young woman who had just been handed her dreams. She’d been handed a way to fend for herself in the way she wanted, and the unadulterated happiness in her eyes that sparkled only added to the innocence I was slowly pulling to the surface.

“I think I can do that,” she said.