The King’s Diamonds are available to rent if you want to wear carats on your finger or around your neck—anything to make the customer feel like a goddess.
And after they have a few drinks, flirt with a few bartenders, they can sway their hips on the dance floor as paid talent wrap them in their arms and make them feel like a million bucks.
Sure, they’re paying for the experience, but it’s safe, clean fun. The kind of fun that makes everybody happy.
After they get nice and hot from dancing, they can make their way into The CockPit, and prepare for their panties to get soaking wet.
Because the dancers are ready to bring it. At least I am.
It’s half an hour before I go on stage, and I’m pumped. Drinking a beer in my dressing room, I’m more than ready to perform.
And I hope like hell JoJo comes … in more ways than one.
“The club’s packed,” Landon says, leaning in the doorway of my dressing room. “The opening night could not be going better.”
“Claire here?” I ask, taking a swig from my bottle of beer.
“Yeah, she, Emmy, and Tess got here a little while ago. Though, honestly, it feels a little weird knowing they’re gonna be watching you strip to nothing.”
“Not nothing, but um, yeah I don’t really want to discuss g-strings with you, bro,” I say, laughing. I’ve been a performer for years, but I’ve never had my buddy’s wives watching.
“Anyways, we’ll catch up later. Ace, Jack, and I are gonna go to the bar when your show starts.”
“Oh, you don’t want to watch me get your ladies horny as hell?”
“Good luck with that,” Landon says, shaking his head, cracking up.
“Oh, I don’t need luck. The cash is gonna be raining down.”
He leaves, and I take a look in the mirror. My opening act ensemble is good to go. I decided to start with a fireman routine, because every woman likes to fantasize about a hefty-sized hose. I won’t disappoint.
The house is packed just like Landon said, and when the music starts I lay it all out on that stage. The fireman’s jacket is on the ground; I’ve pulled down the suspenders. I’m left in a g-string, and have a woman on stage who’s here for her bachelorette party.
She’s getting such a nice view of my package, I can see the drool out the side of her mouth. Her poor husband-to-be can’t compete with this on her wedding night. I take her hand and press it against my covered cock. Her jaw drops, and I know she’d like nothing more than to drop to her knees.
She stuffs twenties where she can, and I turn, flexing my bare ass cheeks in her face. She smacks my butt playfully, and I grind against her.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see JoJo sitting at a table with two other women.
Her eyes are wide, and for a second a wave of dread washes over me. She might not like the fact the guy she wants is up here getting a thirty-five-year-old woman off the day before her wedding.
But before the dread can be replaced with something worse, a smile breaks across JoJo’s perfect face.
And I know she likes what she sees. I swear her smile makes my cock rock hard. Seeing her happy gives me the confidence boost I need to take this show to next level.
I turn back to the woman, straddling her as my rod stands at attention between us. Knowing I own this performance, and this night.
After the show I’m backstage, getting dressed. Wanting to get to JoJo.
There’s a knock on the door and I pull it open, seeing a stage manager I’ve only met a few times.
“Dave, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Hey, there’s a request for you in VIP Room #2.”
“Oh, really? I thought only the second-tier performers were doing that tonight?”
“I guess this is a high-end client. Put down five K for the room.”
“Fuck, really?” I shrug, knowing it’s part of this new gig. And, really, if a woman wants a five-thousand-dollar lap dance, I can give it to her. I am in the business of making people happy. “Okay, give me a minute to change again.”
“Cool.”
Dave leaves and I put on a g-string over my work out pants. My favorite lap dances are when I do the whole boy-next-door thing, in sweats and a hoodie.
A few minutes later I knock on Room #2, hoping the next fifteen minutes—which is what the rental rate is in these rooms—goes quickly. I wanna get to JoJo, badly.
“Hello,” I say, rapping on the door again before pushing it open.
Inside, the lighting is dim, and the music has a low techno beat. Jack’s latest release.
It takes me a second for my eyes to adjust, but a woman is sitting in a chair, her back to me.
“You wanna play a game?” a raspy voice asks.
A smile spreads on my face. Fuck, she’s good. I shut the door, locking it, because I know she and I are gonna be needing more than fifteen minutes.
“What game did you have in mind?” I ask, not letting on that I know exactly who has rented this room.
“It’s a game I didn’t play fairly last time,” she says, standing up and facing me, her red hair falling across her shoulders, her firm body in a skintight dress. “Truth or dare. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” I can’t hide my grin, and I don’t want to. I step toward her, wanting to take her in my arms. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw her in the audience. “You were supposed to give me a lap dance.”
“Well sit down, Ryan McQueen, and get what you’re owed.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know the last time I’ve had a lap dance,” I tell her. “Maybe when I turned eighteen?”
“Then you’re way overdue,” she tells me, pointing to the chair.
I sit, adjusting myself as I do. Fuck, just looking at her in that tiny dress with the zipper down the front makes my cock twitch, needing to get to what’s under the fabric.
“You liked the show?” I ask as she walks around me, taunting me with the sashay of her little ass.
“I loved it.”
Her sincerity hits me in the gut. She doesn’t judge me, or want to change me. She just wants to fuck me.
And I’m gonna let her.
“What did you like most?” I ask as she sidles up to me, leaning toward me, her tits right up in my face. I press my mouth to them, kiss her soft skin, feel her tight little nipples under the taut fabric.
“I liked it when you saw me in the audience, and your cock got hard. I liked it when you pressed that woman’s hand against your cock, because I knew exactly what you were imagining.”
She takes the zipper that holds her dress together and lowers it, teasingly, revealing more skin, inch by inch.
“And what was I imagining?” I ask, breathing heavier at the strain of my hard cock in this g-string. All I want is to press myself in her little pussy and make her scream. But I’ll let her do her routine first. Because damn, it’s hot as hell.
“You were imagining me in that chair, touching you in front of everyone. You were imagining my ass in your face, you spanking me. You were imagining this.”
The zipper reaches the end of the dress, and what’s left is JoJo in a thong as substantial as dental floss and no bra.
She rips off the dress, and turns, putting her ass in my face. She moves up and down, her skin rubbing against me.
“Is touching allowed for this lap dance?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah,” she tells me, taking my hand, and running my fingers across her tummy, pressing them firmly against her perfect mound.
“I’m going to have to remove this thong, then,” I tell her.
“Yes, you are.” She faces me again, her eyes heavy with desire, and I love how she’s totally into playing the part. “You should probably do that right now.”
“A lap dance requires a little more dancing though,” I tell her, rubbing my hands over her ass, pulling her toward me.
She smiles, wrapping her hands around my neck, ruffling my hair with her fingers. She straddles me, pressing her pussy against my groin.
“Oh fuck, woman. I need you.”
“Mmhhhmm. But you just asked for a proper lap dance. I want to make my customers happy.”
“Customers? Plural?”
“What can I say? Your routine inspired me. Yesterday you asked about my long-term plans.”
“And now you want to be a stripper?”
She grinds against me, pressing her nipple in my mouth as she moves, practically begging me to come in my pants like a horny teenager.
“No, I’m teasing,” she says, stopping to look at me. “I just want to strip for you.”
JoJo
He rips off my thong with a hard tug, and then I’m pushing down his pants.
“Nice undies,” I tease, looking at the g-string with the bulge at the front accentuating his package.
“I’d say the same for you, but I just ripped them to shreds.”
“Good, because I want your cock in me so bad, baby,” I tell him, straddling him. “I’ve been ready for you all night.”
“I’ve been ready for you all fucking week,” he says, as I lower myself over his throbbing cock.
“Oh, god,” I moan, pressing him into me. He’s so hard, feels so good. Everything about his body turns me on. His ripped chest and solid biceps. His thick cock and his perfect smile. I wasn’t jealous at all as he danced on that stage.
All I felt was awe. That I had been with him. That I knew I would be with him again.