Only Strip For Me || JJK [BOOK I] ✔️

2: The Client

I fixed my hair in place and my skirt as it had slid up during my walk. I looked down at my cleavage revealing a generous amount. I breathed in and out one last time and felt the cold steel along my palm. I turned the knob and soft music could only be heard echoing in the room. The lights were dim and a physique not identifiable at the moment, sat comfortably with his leg crossed like any other wealthy self-centered type of chaebol.

I rested my hands at the side of my thighs and entered the room filled of luxurious items. A miniature bar standing at the side of the room, a room connecting to the main space. The place was quite classy and grand. Far different from the other rooms that I visited.

I walked up to the man, he sipped his drink. His face covered by the tangy whisky glass. He set the crystal cup down, his face was instantly visible. He carried a stern look on his face, fairly young, and a great build. His dark brown hair swept along his forehead. I was lying if I didn't say he was gorgeous.

He leaned back along the couch, lifting his arm on the head of the Victorian sofa, widening his chest. Peering over at me sharply, waiting for a greeting or some sort of gesture.

I made the first move as I always did to lead in on my clients, I walked in a pompous manner towards the man in his expensive suit. He raised an eyebrow at my approach, tapping his index finger along the wooden frame. He glanced up at me, up and down in a naughty behavior. I fixed myself next to him, pouring him a drink as his glass was empty.

"Here you go Mr. Jeon." I spoke softly, leaning against the couch to view his face. I offered him the substance, he observed me intensely. I almost felt a bit uncomfortable.

Accepting my offer, he gulped the drink instantly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He propped his neck back on the couch, closing his eyes. His foot tapped quietly to the music. Not uttering a word. I wasn't sure of what to do, he didn't order a massage or a private dance session like the other men normally did. I was just given the appointment and his room number.

He loosened his tie and sighed out, his eyes remained closed, his head adjusted to the head of the couch. His brows scrunched and his lips slightly pouted. He seemed frustrated, he seemed tired, and lonely.

My job was to make my customers feel better, I shifted myself near his form. The odor of musk and leather intermingled his atmosphere with a hint of single malt scotch. His smell was streaming of manliness, I placed a hand on top of his chest playing with the valuable button that possibly cost more than his drink.

He immediately shoved my hands away and tilted his face down to warn me. "Don't touch me."

I looked at him confusingly, my job was involved in touching these bastards. I refused to sexually but intimately I did.

"Stand up." He gestured with his head.

I obeyed his demand disoriented, pressing myself back into my five inch stilettos.

"Spin around." He gestured again in a cocky nature.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, what was he getting at this?

"I said, spin around." He raised his voice to some extent.

I ignored his sudden behavior and spun around 360 in my tight waisted skirt, confronting his way once more. He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip in pleasure.

"Can you use a stripper pole?"

"Yes sir."

"Let me see you use it then." He jolted his eyes towards the opposite side of the room. A metal bar stood there, I hadn't notice when I entered the floor.