Dance Till I Die (gxg) ✓

"Come Undone"

                      When he came, it spread across his pants, darkening the fabric like ink.

                      "Shit!" The client stood up, embarrassment staining his throat, his face. "Shit, shit. You must think I'm such a fuck-up. You probably think I'm inexperienced, don't you? Do you think I'm a fucking virgin? You can tell me. I'm a pathetic excuse for a man. I didn't mean to. Shit." 

                      The dark, trembling glare he shot her way was almost threatening.

                      As though he wanted her to tell him what she truly thought.

                      But Mavis only let a sensual smile curve her lips. "I think," she whispered, tracing her fingertip over his chest, "that you're a powerful man . . . in need of a woman."

                      This wasn't the first time a man had come prematurely in her presence.

                      All she had done was let her hips sway, undulating like the summer wind in a field of yearning flowers. She had let the warmth of the velvet music embrace her, and her head had tilted. She knew what she was doing―exposing the bare column of her sweat-kissed throat, the smooth expanse of the valley between her breasts. She knew what it took to bring a man to his knees.

                     His wavering mouth formed her name. "Valentina." 

                     Or, at least, what he thought was her name.

                     There was a certain kind of power in being a woman. There was victory in knowing that all she was desirable―and there was triumph is being able to use that to her advantage. Men with too much wealth, too much money. Men who were willing to stare at her, mouths parted, and tuck folds of money into the lace of her bra. All it took was the roll of her hips, the sweet temptation between her thighs, and men would grovel for her.

                     She liked feeling powerful. Even if she was a lesbian.

                    "Come on," she whispered, letting her words unravel like silk. "Let's get you cleaned up. I know someone who can take care of you."

                    "Take . . . care of me?"

                    She lifted his chin with a single finger, and she tried not to shiver at the rough stubble that grated against her skin. 

                   He was a handsome man―perhaps in his late forties, with a suit that reeked of obscene wealth. The CEO of a company, and all it had taken to make him come was her ass on his lap.

                   "My friend Ruby," Mavis said softly. "She'll be more than happy to take you to a room in the back."

                   "What about you?" said the man roughly. "I want you." 

                   "I don't offer myself in that way," Mavis said simply. Better to set boundaries―and fast.

                    He took a threatening step towards her. The stain on his pants was drying, and she casually, slowly let her eyes flick to it.

                    An ember of shame darkened his neck.

                    Good, she thought.

                    "Ruby is waiting," Mavis said, and she pulled him gently through the velvet curtains. He had paid for a lap dance, and that was all he was getting. "You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"