The Strip Ch. 07

The young man smiled at the use of "Mr." "Let's go with 'Patrick.' Please, join us."

She hesitated, cursing herself for showing weakness. If she was going to get through this night, she had to rise above her meekness. She had to be someone else. "First, we need to take care of business." When she said it, her voice was steady.

Again, that smooth smile. "Of course, the money," he said, tipping his head forward slightly. He pulled a wad of hundreds from the back pocket of his tight, black jeans and counted off 25. Rosie glanced first at the shirtless man, who'd answered the door. He gave her a wink before finishing off his spliff. Her gaze switched to the group who'd been watching the porn. They were now watching her and the money exchange. Her face went bright red.

"Twenty-five large," he said, handing her the stack of bills and grinning as he returned to the rest to his pocket. The money was nothing to him. It was everything to her.

She'd never felt more objectified than at that moment. Why did thoughts of Daniel come to her mind, combined with a strong desire to make a run for it?

"So, Rosie…" Patrick said smoothly, his eyes undressing her, stripping off that sexy power suit. He turned and wandered over to the sofas where the rest of his friends were sitting. "Why don't you dance for us… to start?"

Rosie shivered as he smiled at her. It wasn't the dancing that worried her—it was what came afterwards. She slipped the cash into her purse and set it carefully on the sideboard by the door. Her breath was coming short. She felt her head go soft and light; like she was going to pass out.

Control it, Rosie, control it. You can do this. She took a deep breath, surveyed the group once again—four guys and one girl. The shirtless man was still standing beside her. He'd lit up a new joint and grinned stupidly when she looked his way.

"Here," he said, adding, "take it," when she hesitated.

She reached out and took the joint, setting the rolled cigarette between her full lips and sucked deeply. Maybe this was a way of giving her confidence, drowning out the thoughts of what lay in store.

Many of the girls she worked with at Midnight Hot were heavy addicts of one thing or another. For most, it was sex, although the staff had its fair share of drug addicts and alcoholics. Rosie had insulated herself from that lifestyle, primarily by dissociating herself from the rest of the girls. For her, it was a regular job, one that she left behind when she exited the building.

Sure, she drank from time to time. She'd even smoke a cigarette every once in a while, especially if she was out drinking. But that was the extent of her dabbles and she'd never intended to take it further. Only now, she was feeling the floor fall out from beneath her and she needed some support.

Sashaying forward, burning dubie in hand, her hips found the hard beat coming over the speakers. Her strides were hesitant as she placed herself before the porn-spewing television and her audience.

This was just like any other performance on stage, she told herself, only her stage was much more intimate. Turning her back, she swung along to the music, her legs shoulder-width apart, she fell into her comfort zone once again. The catcalls came: "You're so fucking hot" or "Take it off, baby!" She tuned them all out and went through her motions.

The pot hit her right between the eyes. Like a wave crashing against a beachhead. And yet, instead of making her fall flat on her ass, it energized her. The music was no longer filtered through her ears. She absorbed it. She was one with it.

The marijuana was just what she needed, she realized. It was relaxing her, helping her get through this. Hell, not just get through it! The music, the weed, and the situation all began to make her really fucking horny! Maybe she could actually find a way to enjoy the experience.

Silhouetted against the large television screen and its tawdry acts of lust and sex, she stripped. The black sticks that held her red locks in place went first. Encouraged by their cheers, she tossed her thick waves. This wasn't that different to dancing for Big Eddie, except the audience was more vocal. She liked that!

Next, she peeled off the small blazer, slow enough for her to tease them with the dainty white half-cup bra that barely held her large breasts in check. She twisted and spun, undulating to the changing highs and lows of the electronica. Her short skirt rode up her legs, baring the tops of her stockings and the pale flesh of her thighs. Useless, the skirt went last.

"Nice g-string, baby!" someone exclaimed. "Why don't you come over here and sit in my lap!"

Time to take things to the next level, she thought, a trickle of sweat forming from her forehead. She took another pull. If this was what it took, she'd give it her best shot. Flipping her hair, she skipped up to the guy who'd shouted out, swivelled, and grinded into his lap, just as she'd done with Big Eddie.

She took a drag off the roach for extra confidence. The gasped, sitting back on the sofa as he received his lap dance. He was a gentleman, keeping his hands to himself as she teased him. That was good, but disappointing, too. She needed to feel his touch, tangible evidence that she was hot.

The next guy gave her all the proof she needed. He couldn't keep his hands off her and eventually, it was all she could do to keep shifting and twisting to keep him away. When he managed to get her bra strap unhitched, she slid off of his lap, but still made a show of tossing it across his face as she shook her wonderfully full tits.

She'd gone from reluctant, hesitant, and nervous to confident, horny in a few short minutes. That's what pot could do for you, she told herself

The next guy was Neil, who was looking stoned and excited. His hands immediately went to her swells as she lowered her ass onto him, feeling his cock swell in the crevice of her buttocks. She didn't stop him—she couldn't stop him. She was getting high on the weed and the more she floated, the less she cared.

As she grinded her hips into his erection, he pushed a finger beneath her g-string. "God, you're sexy," he whispered as two fingers found her clit. Her body went stiff with shock as a mini-orgasm washed through her body. She whimpered as he fingered her, nibbling lightly on her pierced ear.

This was wrong; she couldn't—yet she was. Her legs widened to grant him better access as her arousal grew. Despite herself, his groping hands only made her situation worse. Somehow she danced back to her feet and pirouetted, now actively looking for her next victim.

On screen, a woman had joined the couple, situating herself between the legs of the first. Rosie's heart skipped a beat. To the right of Neil was the blonde, whose eyes were glistening with desire. She thought of Carly. She thought of the girls on the screen. She couldn't do this, right?

But, well, she could give the guys a show, right?

One leg bent slightly in from of the other, her hips cocked to the side, Rosie drew deeply on the joint, feeling the surge of whatever it was blow her inhibitions away. Holding it in her lungs, she bent at the waist and braced her hand on the blonde's shoulder as she swooped her head in low, her head back and her red hair flying.

The redhead's steadying hand shifted around the heavy-lidded girl's neck. She pulled the dreamy eyed woman close as her head tilted and her lips closed in. The blonde opened her mouth in anticipation of a kiss, but before their lips met, Rosie exhaled, passing the heady smoke between mouths.

She heard the blonde gasp. So wicked. So bad. Before she could stop herself, she closed the distance, feeling the soft touch of a woman's mouth for the second time in two days. Again, she reassured herself that this was all just for show. This was for the guys, she rationalized as she unfurled her tongue into the sassy blonde's mouth.

She heard them guys' cheer around her. Her pussy grew warm from all of the attention. She kissed the other woman harder. Maybe this whole scene wasn't too bad after all?

Pulling away with a theatrical swing of her hips, she spun around, gyrating in the blonde's lap before moving on to her final victim. It was the host, Patrick. "That was really hot," he whispered as the song came to an end.

Rosie had to agree. She was on fire, hornier than any audience had ever made her at Midnight Hot. She felt his fingers slide along her stockings, tug at her g-string, then slide across her hips to pull her pussy against his erection.

"Time to get fucked," he whispered into her ear, his teeth painfully pulling down on her lobe. "Hope you're as good as I think you are!"

Sitting off him enough to look him in the eyes as she sucked on the joint, the last of the weed burning away, she nodded. "I've never had any complaints," she said huskily, pushing back as he grinded his hardness into her again. Her head was spinning from the weed; her whole body was warm with arousal.

When she regained her feet, the lightness in her head had moved to the rest of her limbs. Particularly her legs. She held out her hand for him, helping him up. He took it and stood with the same smoothness she'd seen in a smile. Like they were dancing, he moved to her side so naturally. "I'd like Neil to... watch," he told her. "I think he'd benefit a great deal—"

Rosie hesitated as she looked over at the shirtless man. This wasn't part of the deal. Her eyes swung further, across to the group of young guys and girls gathered around the doorway. She realized they'd joined them as she'd danced. All were looking at her with hunger in their eyes. They wanted her, her swimming brain was able to process.

"Okay," she reluctantly conceded. She couldn't get out of that room quickly enough…

Rosie shivered as she collected her purse and followed them towards the double doors of the bedroom. No matter what hand life had dealt her, she didn't want to think of herself as a girl who made her living on her back. This was just a necessary evil. Make enough, pay off Big Eddie, and move on. And if the weed was going to help her enjoy it, that was good, too.

She deserved something from this.

***

Daniel shuffled in his seat. His clothes felt scruffy, he needed a shower, and his headache hadn't eased. But worse of all, Grizzly was still at the table.

The Englishman's sole objective was to remain in the tournament for as long as he could. See out today, he kept telling himself, see out today. In truth, his mind was on Rosie. He'd wanted to see her again all day—could that be why he'd had so much trouble focusing? Her text message during the last break had told him she couldn't meet him and would explain tomorrow.

What the hell was that all about?

Midway through the final session he was dealt Pocket rockets. His first real hand of the day. He hadn't received anything better than tens all tournament.

Rather than thank the poker Gods, it occurred to him that this was the hand that Doyle had so recently busted. Damn, how negative was that? He really was off the pace! Stroke the crystal, he told himself, but not yet. Show no emotion. It was his move and all eyes were watching him.

Slow playing was an option but he instantly threw that thought away. He'd seen too many bad beats today. Just take the pot then and there. He carefully counted out the chips, cutting them from the others and pushing them into the middle. Five times the big blind.

Grizzly on his left thought for a few moments, leaning back in his chair and scratching his partially baldhead. Glancing at Daniel, he muttered, "Raise." Taking his time, he pulled two stacks of chips from the piles in front of him. The pot sized bet made sense if Daniel was unsure about his hand.

The man had been on his back all day and the Englishman hadn't had the cards to do a thing about it. Until now. This was too good an opportunity to miss. He gave a Hollywood pause, attempting to convey uncertainty, then gazed across at the eyes squinting back at him. "All in," he softly said.

Grizzly's call was a given. He was pot committed. It was the move Daniel wanted, but then the doubt crept back. If his hand was cracked he was out. Grizzly cursed as the Englishman turned over his Aces.

"This kid can't play for toffee and he picks up Aces!" his opponent told a group of friends as he rushed across to the rail, ignoring the chequered shirttail flapping out of the back of his dirty blue jeans. "What the hell?!"

Daniel ignored the comment. Doubling up at this stage would allow him to coast to the end of the day. After the constant ear bashing he'd experienced, maybe this was karma.

The flop killed him. King-Queen-Nine.

Grizzly let out a whoop of delight, throwing himself into the arms of his supporters as they jumped up and down. They all wanted to join in his whoops of delight. "That's what I'm talking about… that's what I'm talking about—"

Daniel felt claustrophobic. Lose with grace, he repeated to himself, blowing out a long sigh. Show some class. Not the easiest thought to hold onto, with Grizzly's irritating tone informing everyone that he was about to bust his ass.

The turn was another King, giving his opponent a full house. That brought further hollering and arm punching from Grizzly and his friends. In two cards he'd turned from despondent to a cheerleader.

Daniel sat back down, quietly preparing himself for his exit. He only had two outs but neither was on his mind. He pulled the precious stone from his pocket and placed it on the green cloth in front of him.

So much for the power of the crystal—

The dealer's banged fist on the baize brought the card that changed everything. The card Norman Chad regarded as the prettiest card in the deck.

And at that moment, Daniel agreed. He was back in it.

***

"Alright, let's get this started!" Neil clapped as he situated himself into the armchair directly across from the bed.

A smiling Patrick led Rosie across the room, her head down so that her thick, copper locks hung over her face. A handler leading his filly to pasture.

Despite herself, the redhead was excited. All thoughts of how wrong it felt were floating away like the smoke from the weed. One of these guys had paid her two and a half thousand dollars for the privilege to fuck her, letting his friend watch was the least she could do.

Patrick plumped himself down on the edge of the bed, caressing the tops of his thighs as she bent over him. "Undress me," he told her.

The buzz of adrenalin running through her was fuelled further as Neil suddenly appeared beside her, letting her take a long drag of the newly lit joint before he backed away to his chair again.

Rosie tossed her head back, making her hair dance a sexual tango before leaning forward to run her lips within inches of his, teasing him as her fingers went to the bottom of his t-shirt. When it was over his head and he was shirtless, she smothered his mouth with her lips.

Working his black jeans open, she slid to her knees as she pulled them off. "No underwear," she said with a raised eyebrow, enjoying the sexual power she was feeling inside.

"I like to be prepared," he winked back at her, grabbing his erect cock in his fist and pumping it once.

She hesitated a second, for some reason Daniel came back into her thoughts. Damn! This time the shake of her head was to dismiss the thought and she leant forward to quickly suck the delicious looking cock it into her mouth. Geez, that felt good! She gave his thick manhood two quick sucks before slurping away and running her nearly naked body along him.

This wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Really, it was no different than what she did at the club. A little dancing followed by turning a trick or two. It was the easiest two and a half grand she'd ever earn. A few more of these and she'd be halfway to wiping out her debt to Eddie. Besides, Patrick was hot and Neil wasn't so bad, either. She'd had a lot worse…

Brushing her lips along Patrick's, she made to kiss him before pulling back and swivelling into his lap. Neil had unzipped his pants and was jerking off as he watched from his chair. She should have expected it, but the sight shocked her all the same. Most guys wanked when they watched sex, right?

"Keep the stockings, but lose the panties, doll," he leered, glancing down between her legs. "I want to see that pussy!"

Rosie shivered as Patrick closed his hands around her freckled swells. He pulled her body against his, squeezing her tits together and pinching her nipples. This was getting dangerously sexy. The thought of the masturbating man watching her perform was more of a turn on than she could ever have anticipated.

Using Patrick's body for leverage, she lifted her hips off his, hooked her thumbs in her g-string, and peeled them away from her pussy lips that were already wet with anticipation.

"There it is," Neil hissed, grabbing the chair and dragging it as close as he could get to the bed.

Rosie attempted to ignore him, but somehow his nearness created even more excitement inside her. She took hold of Patrick's cock and guided it to her wet furrow. It took three passes before he'd slid fully into her depths. Her eyes closed, her head went back. God, that felt so good.

She felt someone pushing a joint between her lips again and she sucked hard again, once, twice. With each inhalation of smoke, her arousal increased. Could it get any higher?

Patrick's words interrupted her thoughts. "You just going to let him hang there?" he asked as his exploring hands aroused her further. "Suck his cock," he ordered.

The redhead quivered as she heard Patrick flex his command with her. She didn't normally think of herself as a girl who liked to be dominated, but everything about this situation was turning her on. Leaning forward, she captured Neil's cock in her heads and drew it into her mouth.

"Fuck, baby…" he groaned. He pushed his fingers into her thick, red locks.

She matched her blowjob with Patrick's driving thrusts, synchronizing the feeling of the two cocks inside of her. The heady sensation of hazy lust was back, this time fuelled not by marijuana but by the intense feeling of being taken. Truly taken.

Patrick slid a finger into her anus and she went off like dry gunpowder. No man had ever touched her there and she surprised herself with the strength of her orgasm. Too much. Too fucking much! She yanked her head from Neil's erection, a strand of saliva stretching from her lower lip to his bulbous head.

It broke as she threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy. Patrick's finger dug deeper into her asshole; she came harder.

"I think someone has an ass fixation," Patrick laughed, meeting Neil's eyes. "Maybe later on, we can explore that?"

Rosie shook her head, but instantly knew she'd have to explore that thought. Not right now, though, and not with these two. But with Daniel…? Now there was a thought that sent her into overdrive.

She began to bounce harder and harder in Patrick's lap, desperately searching for a second release. Neil grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back to his spit-covered cock. Before she could take him into her mouth, though, she realized he had other plans.

"Wrap those tits around it," he growled, inching his rod into the valley of her swells. Gone was the mellow stoner. This man wanted to get off as much as she did.

Obliging, she collecting her gravity defying breasts in her hands and squeezed them around him. Give him what he wanted. And Patrick. Get the orgasm she badly needed too. Then she could get out of there.

Between her saliva, sweat, and the clear pre-cum leaking from his cock, there was more than enough lube for him to glide through her freckled cleavage. "Oh, fuck yeah!" he moaned appreciately, sinking back in the chair as he began to really pump up into her.