Eager to Please Pt. 01

And then everything came crashing down when I saw who waited for me for a private room. Ezra Calloway studied me to the side. And I didn't have to go to that private room with him, but I knew Ezra enough to know that I could behave and go to it or he'd find a way to have his talk with me anyway.

I behaved, smiling sweetly and nodding to say that yes, I would do it. And the bouncer was kind and polite, the weird underground version of a knight in shining armor and he led us back to the small rooms with the circular tables. And then the door closed and the light was muted and I was looking up at him, trying to not freak out. "Um. You found me."

He chuckled and gestured for me to sit, so I did it. "That I did. It wasn't easy, Gigi, I'll give you that. I had to follow you from Trish and Morgan's. You were a bit too obviously evasive when I questioned you about where you worked or what you did that night I was going to recommend you to Rede. Here."

He took off his suit jacket and I hesitated when he held it out. "I... I smell like cotton candy and other spray. I don't want to get it on your jacket. What if... what if your wife-"

He cut me off with a small laugh. "My wife is going to fall over herself laughing when she hears where I went tonight and why. I can assure you it's fine." I took the suit jacket, wrapping myself up in it to hide my Teasers outfit. "Are you thirsty?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I don't do the alcohol thing unless it's really impolite to say no."

He studied me with a faint smile. The terrifying thing about Ezra was that he absolutely seemed out of place, but he seemed completely comfortable with being that way too. "Now that's interesting. Have you ever noticed how there's a difference between a driver passing through a city to go to another destination and a driver whose destination is in the city he's already in?"

God, and he talked in analogies sometimes. Ezra was terrible at talking to people, but no one in their right mind would dare call him out on that. "Yes, I suppose."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I was trying to be nice, but I'll be more blunt. I know you and I know the situation I pulled you out of, Gigi, so why don't you be straight and tell me what your endgame is. The money from here is obviously not where someone like you is stopping."

Rats. Okay, now the analogy made perfect sense. "Please don't kill me." He gave me a flat stare and I answered with a sigh. "Poker game. It took me forever to get them to let me in and sometimes I have to lose on purpose so they don't get too fucked up over me. But I can double what I make here on a good night. I just play a few hours of manipulation here, and these people are really easy to manipulate, and then I go there and those people are really cocky so they're easy to read, you know?"

Ezra rubbed his forehead with a faint smile of exasperation. "I can't deny that you used a skill set you knew you had to great effect. What if I could make you a better offer, Gigi? One where you wouldn't be in this place. I know you can't like it. I know what you came from and I know how much it bothered you."

I hesitated. Okay, there was no denying he had a decent point. And the truth was I didn't come from a bad place, at least not a very bad place. Yes, my parents were divorced and it was true that my mother had problems with substances, but I made do, you know? And there were some fond memories. For instance, the place we lived in didn't have central heat and it had a wood stove instead. I love telling people in the city this because they laugh hysterically, but you legitimately had to wake up in the dead of night to put wood in the furnace or it would be cold as fuck when you woke up. What was more, I lived next to a gun range and across the way from a trailer park known for its meth. Shit was interesting is all I'm saying. The problem is I did have ambition, which wouldn't have been a bad thing on its own.

But the type of ambitious people in that environment aren't necessarily the kind you should be around, if you get my meaning. But I did want to get away from that. So... "What kind of deal?" I asked softly.

He smiled. "Let me think on it. In the meantime, Morgan and Trish are pleased with you, you know."

I smiled shyly. "I love them. I, like, actually love them. And they're always so protective and I love that so much too." Like the bouncers, they were something more pure than the rest of us in some ways. "And their artwork is the most amazing thing ever. It's so versatile! I asked Trish how to adapt styles like that and she just laughed and said with lots and lots of practice. She said to just keep drawing and I do, but man, sometimes it doesn't feel like I'll ever be as good as them." I hesitated and then whispered, "Please don't tell them about what else I do or where I'm from."

Ezra chuckled and ruffled my hair gently. Not too much, so he wouldn't mess it up, but just enough to show a rare bit of affection. "You're a good girl, Gigi." It was a phrase that made me feel warm and happy to hear and I smiled up at him, while he looked thoughtful. "As you like. How are online classes going? Think you'll be ready for campus soon?"

He asked me about my apartment and about my tests, having insisted I continue my schooling when he helped me move here. And I was glad he had because programming and game design work were super fun and they were something I could always fall back on, as it turned out I was good at them. And Ezra genuinely seemed to care about me as a person, which I sometimes wondered at. He had this reputation of being generally pretty cold to everyone, but the truth was I thought Ezra Calloway might not have started out on the top that he made. I think he might have started a little lower and worked his way up. Part of me thought he took to me because I reminded him a little of himself.

And a few days later I also thought Ezra Calloway was a lying bitch.

————

Morgan

Gigi had started hanging around the store a lot more after my request, which I thought was a really good sign, especially since I would often walk in on her and Trish laughing together. What was more, Trish was so taken in by Gigi that she let this girl tattoo her. And Trish didn't have a lot of places left to put ink work, but there were a few near her wrist. And she let Gigi give her that Roissy, something that was fun as all hell to watch. I stood in the doorway, while it was after hours that night, and watched while Trish casually sat still. Gigi followed the stencil lining, getting a feel for it while Trish spoke in that mentor voice that made me smile.

"Once you get used to the way the ink traces the stencil, they'll be your best friend for basically ever after that. If you can draw out a satisfying stencil and you know how the gun is going to behave over that stencil and around it for color and shading, then you've got a pretty good foundation to expand off of."

And Gigi seemed to have enough confidence to not be antsy while working. She had so many factors in her favor. There was the fact that her stencil work was expansive and she already had the artwork foundation. We had learned that she truly did love to draw and she seemed to draw every free moment she had. She worked when she was stressed, tracing out body parts in various styles just to practice. She drew when she was antsy, enjoying the feel of a picture coming together from chaos. And she had that mindset too, that kind that could piece together an end goal picture from beginning parts that didn't seem to mean anything. Which was another thing that would help her. Trish and I got more and more curious about her because she was awesome and she fit right in with this safe haven for outcasts. Trish brought up the question late at night when we were laying in bed one night.

What would she make of Sulfur's, our favorite fetish club and a different kind of safe haven?

We were still fantasizing over this new girl when one night changed things. Gigi left, since it was one of the nights when she had to leave early, and I was hanging out at the store with Trish. It was my free day but I spent even those behind the desk, painting tiles.

And then Ezra Calloway walked through the door while Trish just so happened to be in between tattoo sessions. He smiled at me. "You should go to this address," he said quietly, handing me a piece of paper. "Now, I mean."

Fucking Christ. What game was this? I had learned better than to trust Calloway. The man was an asshole sometimes. But now he spoke softly and there was something more gentle in his voice. "If you think you're in the wrong place, you're in the right one. Just humor me and do it. Trust me, it'll lead to some fun."

I glanced at Trish, wondering how the hell this was going to go wrong. The truth was, if you knew Ezra Calloway, it was almost impossible to stay away from his games. They were always like an Insane Clown Posse song, where you knew it would lead someplace dark and twisted, but it was intriguing enough that you couldn't help yourself from watching the train wreck. I took the address while Trish grinned wickedly. "Yeah, alright, why not." Wherever this was going, I could guarantee it wouldn't be boring at least. I took the address and put it on my phone, throwing away the piece of paper because who the hell writes down an address instead of just sending a link? But whatever, I figured out my subway route, used the metro card, and started down the way.

Hilariously, Trish and I invested in a car and then never used it again after the first time. I knew some people, like Ezra, who preferred to drive, and it baffled me. It was slow as fuck in a large city and oh my God, I had no idea how much road rage I possessed before trying it. Maybe it'd be different in a smaller place with longer roads, but where I lived, I was great with that metro card. It was faster and decent exercise besides. Even if there was sleet, I preferred it with a rain coat and layers. Trish and I kept changes of clothes at the store for some days when our clothes felt too wet by the time we got there. We just changed in a bathroom and went with it. That's how shitty it was to drive where we lived.

But the weather was alright that night. Cold, but dry, and I paused outside of the address GPS led me to.

A strip club. Of course it was because why the fuck not. Jesus Christ, fucking Ezra Calloway. Now I was just curious. I paid the door fee and went in, wondering why the hell I was here and what I was even looking for.

It took me exactly five minutes to realize it. The song switched to DMX - once again, why the fuck not - and I looked at the stage and saw her.

She wasn't dancing alone. There were two poles and another girl who was about her size was on the other one. But Gigi definitely had this confidence and this playfulness. It was this strange disconnected moment for me because she both seemed a little like the sweet, innocent Gigi I knew... but also not at all. It was like she'd flipped a switch and she knew exactly how to look to come across as someone who could be dominant, but also like she wanted to please you. She had that look that screamed confidence, but also eagerness to be a guy's fantasy. And holy shit, she was. That slightly smaller and more compact version of Trish's body served her goddamn well. She was tight and toned and God, she knew how to dance. And suddenly I knew who had had a hand in the song that was playing.

One more road to cross. One more risk to take.

She grinned when a guy went up to her, like she wanted nothing more than to make him her world. The dark pulse seemed to make her appear all the more innocent. And then the implications of this sank in.

Trish and I had fallen for a fucking stripper. Of course we would. Who didn't fall for a stripper? But, of course, that thought made me an asshole and wasn't fair to Gigi. Because we had fallen for her, not her stripper name. And seriously, who was I to ever judge her? I was concerned, though. Was she safe? Was she happy? Looking around, I had to admit she had chosen a decent place to work, but I also wondered why Ezra had sent me to find her. And then when I thought of that, I sent him a quick message.

You're a dick.

My phone vibrated with his reply. Please tell her I have my offer for her and I'd like her to seriously consider it. It'll mean more to her coming from you.

Oh goddammit. I was not the right person for this. All I could think about was how great she looked dancing like that and how awesome her artwork was, how she had the potential to be every bit as good as my wife. I was in some serious trouble because she was at work in a place where it would help me to focus on her body and I was thinking with my heart. I was horny with how she gave that sweet "play with me" gaze even while she acted dirty and bold, but I was in love when thinking about how difficult it must be for a shy girl like her to find that boldness. I was fantasizing about watching her while Trish brought her to heel when she was wearing cat ears.

And dreaming about her sharing coffee with us every time we opened the store because I loved her funny little antics already. The smart thing would have been to wait for her to finish her shift, even when she wouldn't be done for a while. The smart thing would have been to let Trish play and see her. But, like most people, I didn't do the smart thing.

I stayed and bought a beer and watched her, more and more entranced with how she laughed and flirted. The dark atmosphere was a joy. The music was loud and the shot girls were fucking adorable. I would say it was way more high end than the place Trish had taken me to cure my heartache, but that wouldn't be saying fuck all.

I was at least smart enough to stay back though, not wanting to mess her up with a surprise, not until she had a moment. I wondered what I'd do if she saw me before there was a window for me to approach her. In the meantime, I watched her kiss one of the dancers with mischief all over her face and had to grin.

And then she was finally free and she walked to the bar for a moment, looking for someone else to flirt with. I took the moment and I wasn't at all thinking with my head at that point. "Want a drink?" I asked over the music.

She jumped and turned to me, eyes going wide before she covered it up with her playful smile, even while stark terror glistened in her gaze. But of course she had to do that. God, of course. I was an idiot. She couldn't appear to be involved with anyone and I hadn't even been thinking of that. "It's cool. Just act like I'm anyone else."

She smiled gratefully and nodded. "No, thank you on the drink. Ever been here before?"

"No," I answered easily. "It's a neat place though."

She flirted back with me, managing to ask if Ezra had sent me, and I rolled my eyes. We both seemed to share a mutual irritation over it, something that made me laugh. And then eventually she swallowed and tilted her head to say she should go back to what she was doing, but I wasn't done with her and God, her artwork was so good and I was thinking of how she loved Star Wars and-

I gently caught her hand with the cash in it, doing something so fucking stupid. "Dance for me."

She looked down at where I held her hand, blinking. "Um. But Trish and-"

Right, yeah. She was learning from two tattoo artists who were married and didn't want to fuck that up and she didn't know Trish's thing with me. But what the hell, if I was doing one stupid thing, I might as well keep going. Maybe if I made enough negatives, they'd come out to a positive eventually. Worst part was, I couldn't even blame alcohol for any of my poor choices. One beer, are you kidding? No, my impaired judgment was all from her. "Trish and I are two married Doms who share girls and she's into you. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Of course she got what I was saying. She worked in that place, so she wasn't oblivious. She might not have played fetish or kink, but she knew what the words meant. She nodded at me, swallowing fearfully, eyes going deliciously wider. I had rolled some risky ass dice... but they turned up in my favor anyway and I grinned with her answer. "If I do it, will you tell me more about it and promise that it won't affect my working for you guys? I know you both keep your word."

Of course Trish and I kept our word. We didn't judge people and we were protective. "I swear that this will always be separate from your learning from Trish and I. And yes, I'll tell you more."

She nodded, a little nervous, but she took what I paid her and went to give it to a bouncer, who nodded at her with an affectionate smile. God, everyone seemed to love her there, but why wouldn't they?

And then something instantly stood out to me. She seemed separate from the people there somehow. Oh, she was flirty, but there was too much innocence to her. And she could act dominating but it seemed to come from a desire to be pleasing. It was the same way a sub might top once, if it was what would make someone happy. Which was something I'd seen before actually. A friend of ours at Sulfur's had often played the part of a Domme, but she always later confessed that she didn't much like that role. She just liked seeing other people's pleasure when they were craving to be topped and she had the skill set to give that to them.

Maybe it was because I knew Gigi outside of that place already, but I thought I had an idea as to what Ezra was trying to offer her. I thought that maybe he knew she liked working there well enough, but it wasn't her real love. And I thought he might have known that there were other things that would make her happier. Because Ezra was an asshole, it was true, but he didn't judge people. He was like us in that way.

And then she sat me down in a back room with low lighting and on a red long couch. I fell back into it in a perfect way, my legs spread. And she danced.

And her dance name might have been a cliche, but I could see why she had chosen Angel.

————

I realized I had given her perfect knowledge in how to please me with my words from before, about Trish and I being Doms, because she started out with this shy little blush that made me burn. God, she knew how to play on information she was freely given. I wondered how she would dance for someone who told her he liked a more aggressive type. But then I thought I knew. She'd use all of that playful aggression and drive him wild.

But for me, she arched on my lap in this teasing way and took my hand, delicately stroking my fingertips over the outside of her thigh. The lightest touch, just a little. Not enough to satisfy and just enough to build my aggression. Jesus Christ, she was good at it. She turned around to face me, meeting my eyes with a pleading look. "You said you'd tell me more. Please tell me?"

And God, that cotton candy scent from before. I wanted to show her how Trish and I could drive her wild, wanted to watch Trish teach her how to orgasm on command. She needed cat ears to go with those pink heels and that pink lacy lingerie. "Trish and I share girls and we show them off to each other. So when she hears about this, she's going to tease me while making me talk more." I released a breath when she lowered herself a little more, wishing to God I hadn't worn denim. The touches were driving me wilder than heaven with just how little feeling I could have through the material. My voice just kept going too, while she danced up my body and taunted me with her tits brushing my cheek... and then her abdomen... then her thighs. She let me stare at that triangle of fabric between her legs, grasping my hand to trail it up the outside of her thigh again. And she always left me craving more, left me fantasizing about cuffing her down and open so I could finally have my fill of her.