Slasher: Devil's Rose #10

Chapter 3: Jax Easton

I fucking hope that woman is still here from thirty minutes ago. I don't want to watch anyone but her. She's so fucking gorgeous. That bright red hair, those stunning blue eyes, and I'm sure under the makeup that she has, freckles line her nose. The way she smelled too. 

Everything about her was pulling me in. I know that her job. I know the way that she makes money is by dancing on a pole for men and women and making them feel special. I know that's all part of it, but I honestly don't give a fuck. 

I couldn't care less about whether or not it's more than her just doing her job. All I care about is seeing her again. All I care about is being near her. I sound like a fucking freak, but it's a certain kind of attention that I haven't had in a long time. It's one that I've been craving ever since my ex left me.

I go up to the bartender who tilts his head when he recognizes me from a short while ago, however, he doesn't say anything. Once again, I scan the club and see her walking the floor, talking up random men with her top on now. 

I watch her from a distance to study her tactics, observing how she uses her body, touch, and voice to get these strangers to tuck wadded-up bills into her bra and underwear. I take the last sip of my drink - a vodka and coke - before moving through the crowd to where she is. 

Our eyes lock, and I tilt my head toward one of the private rooms. She instantly gets the signal, walking sexily toward me and placing a soft hand on my chest when she reaches me.

"You want all the attention do you, sweet boy?"

Never in my life did I think I would like to be called sweet boy. Right now though, my insides are melting, and I want to drop to my knees and make her cum with my mouth.

"Yes, ma'am."

"And I'm sure you follow orders quite well."

"Not all the time. Sometimes women follow mine."

She smirks at my reply and uses my shirt to tug me where she wants me. The security guard near the entrance to the private rooms makes sure to let us both know that people will be watching us. Good; these women should be protected around here. 

They aren't any less human because of their job. They deserve safety and respect too. When we get into the private room, she sits me down on the cushioned bench, studying me with her icy blue eyes.

"What's your name?" I question, wanting to know who I'm in the room with.

I'm sure she's got a beautiful fucking name.

"Why do all men ask that question?"

"There's something satisfying about it for me, but I don't know about other men. I like knowing who I spend my time with."

"You think you're hot shit."

"I am hot shit," the cocky side of me comes out.

"Does that usually turn women on?" she asks me, a sultry tone filling her voice as she runs a hand up my thigh.

"When I moan their name it does."

I see a change in her breathing, her chest rising heavier with every inhale.

So, I'm not the only one affected by her.

"My name is Lavender."

Well, that's definitely her stripper name.

"Cause of the perfume?"

"Yeah, it's my favorite."

"Can I know your real name?"