With juice dripping on her chin, a cherry stem popping out from the top of her cleavage, and humiliation setting her skin aflame, she realized she hadn’t even managed to get his attention. Instead, he focused on something past her.
But behind him, on the stage, with nothing more than a white towel locked in the tight fist at his hip, Viper spotted her, tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, let out a grin, and gave her a wink.
Heaven help me.
2
Kellen Savage went through the motions by rote. After all, he shed his clothes nightly so all he had to do now was slow those movements down, make them calculated and a little more sexy than he would in the privacy of his own home, throw in a few of the favorite dance moves he had in his arsenal, and watch the wads of cash emerge from purses far and wide.
After years dancing, the nights on stage blended together. The sea of faces all looked the same. Eager women. Stressed. Maybe a little neglected in their love lives.
All in desperate need for pure, wild fun.
There was a time he’d take one or two of them home for the night…in the early days when the free-for-all of women seemed like the ultimate buffet.
But now, they all resembled one another, sounded like one another, and stimulating conversation? Not likely.
Did he still get a kick off the fact they adored him? Well, yeah.
What guy couldn’t use an ego boost like that?
And then there was that one.
The one in the blue dress who looked like a cross between school marm and 1950’s housewife clearly out of her element if the way she had just bobbled that cherry now sticking out of her cleavage was any indication.
Mortified eyes met his. The color drained from her face and splotches of red formed high on her pale cheeks.
She looked ready to flee, the women surrounding her oblivious to her humiliation and discomfort.
His gut twisted. He knew that look. He’d been there. Stripping had never been the plan, but necessity when life had turned to shit leaving him broke and on the verge of homelessness.
And the first time…okay, the first ten times, he’d just about had a coronary when that sea of eyes locked on him.
He had to give her credit; she didn’t make an attempt at escape. She had guts, and he admired that.
Maybe that meant she just needed time to get…acclimated.
He gave her a wink and a quick smile of reassurance and turned his focus once more to his routine.
He had money he needed to bring in, and this month to the tune of 4K. He wouldn’t make that happen if he gave all his attention to the only women in the house who actually managed to incite intrigue.
The shower had been rigged with a tank in the back, giving him only a handful of minutes to work his magic under the spray and give the ladies a voyeuristic glance.
Hell, what woman didn’t prefer a man wet? Jay had done him a solid and made sure the water was just right so it didn’t burn the shit out of Kellen’s skin, but it was hot enough to have steam billowing inside, fogging up the doors enough to obscure the naughty bits.
Sitting just outside the city limits, the town and county were in a tug of war over who had jurisdiction to enforce laws about nudity. Right now, they had the green light to go full nude.
He’d take every opportunity to earn another dollar.
The other guys spent hours grooming for this shit.
Shaving, or worse, waxing? Fuck that noise.
He trimmed, kept things neat and tidy, but other than that, what you see is what you get with Viper.
The ladies got muscles he’d earned on job sites instead of endless hours at the gym. Good genes helped too.
He’d learned over the years, as much as this was all fantasy, women gravitated toward something they could rationalize as more real. They wanted to feel the magic, the heat, the possibility of maybe turning fantasy into real life.
Water sluiced over his body. He tipped his face back and closed his eyes, letting the spray soak him from head to toe.
Jay had hung a tri-folded towel over the metal rod affixed to the glass facing the audience. The terrycloth didn’t hide a whole hell of a lot, but while the steam slowly clung to the inner walls, it hid his junk from view.
For now.
He was a make-the-ladies-wait kind of guy.
Was she watching? The real-life Juliet with the shocked but curious eyes in the audience, so out of place among the ravenous women cheering around her.
Had her gaze locked on his wet skin? Did she want to see more? Was she afraid? Embarrassed?
He glanced down, surprised to see his cock waking up to the thought of her eyes locked on him.
Down boy. Thick is okay, but if you stand in salute, we’re going to have a talk.
Casual movements. Look like you’re not working for it. Less is more.
The music ramped up. The beat taking on a new life.
And here was the tricky part. Stay wet, but not so wet he took a header off the stage into the laps of women in the front section. He really should have given this more thought. If he made it through without landing on his ass, he was heading straight for the bar.
Wrapping the small, white terrycloth around his hips, he formed a knot that he could easily tug free when the time came.
Working his way to the one end of the stage, he knelt down to the cheering women and smiled.
Hands reached out and roamed his chest before fingertips danced toward the edge of his towel.
Bring on the bills, ladies, and I’ll keep bringing the hip thrusts.
The blonde in front of him caught a glimpse behind the towel and licked her lips.
Yeah, not going to happen, but you can worship with your eyes all you want.
Kneeling before her, he smiled, leaned back, and rolled his abs. She slid a folded twenty in his towel, her fingers dipping dangerously low and lingering.
He knew damn well he could get another twenty out of her. He wiggled his eyebrows, bit his lip, and slid his fingers through her hair. Sure enough, she pulled another big bill from her bra.
With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, he slid away as a sigh slipped from her lips.
He didn’t know what made him look back at Juliet. Maybe it was the way she looked so damn different than the women in the crowd with her shiny, auburn locks streaked golden highlights falling over her shoulder in tidy waves.
No tousled bedroom hair for her. Instead, she had a classy retro look about her that made him wonder where she’d come from, what her story was, how her skin would feel under the palm of his hand.
Whoa. Down boy.
Down.
No fucking the clientele. Not anymore. That shit is for amateurs, and you’ve seen too much bullshit to go down that road.
He worked his way around the stage, getting closer to her with every move, with every caress of an excited woman screaming for more, but just before he arrived at their table, he danced off to the other side.
Saving the best for last.
For himself.
And maybe a bit for her.
He cast a couple more glances in her direction while he worked for the bigger bills and spotted her studying a piece of paper clenched between her hands.
Apparently, he was totally forgettable in her orbit. Disappointment settled in his stomach. He shook his head. It was job. He’d do good to remember that.
Get your head on straight, Savage. Jesus.
Cheers filled the air as the women grew restless with impatience. There was only one thing he could do for that: give the crowd what they wanted.