When a struggling Broadway talent agent reluctantly agrees to represent a male stripper, she finds out there's more to her new client than oiled abs.
Season 1 of Strip in the City
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Today might be the worst day of my life. I just lost my biggest c...
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Despite the long hours I'd been working at Ritual—the pool bar on the Lower East Side—I'd never felt more energized. They were willing to let me pick up a few extra shifts, but the money I was making was nowhere near Double O cash. So, I was back to the job hunt, searching for that elusive high paying restaurant gig.
I had to trust I could make this work without stripping. I was finally working towards my goal to become a Broadway actor, and I was doing it with someone I liked.
Just thinking about Maren had me grinning like an idiot in the gym mirror, and the dude next to me gave me a weird look.
I added ten more pounds to my bar before setting up for another round of squats and pretending I hadn't been daydreaming about my agent. Exercise didn't stop my brain from wandering back to Maren.
There were moments between us that felt so real—like we were something more than business partners.
I shook my head before turning up the music on my headphones. Maren would never see me as more than her new client—the stripper. I needed to stop focusing on how good she made me feel, and start focusing on what I needed to do. The thought fueled my workout, and when it was over, I jogged back to my apartment building, dripping sweat.
The August heat and humidity clung to me, and by the time I climbed up the nine floors to my apartment, my clothes were soaked through.
I peeled off my shirt and tossed it in the laundry hamper. For a solid minute, I stood in front of the air conditioning unit, focusing on my breath and not on my agent who kept creeping into my thoughts.
It's just a physical attraction, I assured myself. Nothing more. Maren was objectively gorgeous, and since I'd had my body all over her body, my dick was trying to convince my brain there was unfinished business—which there wasn't.
I decided it was time to make a trip across the hall to visit my detached bathroom. Frankly, I needed to rub one out. That solved most problems.
I snatched up my ditty bag full of toiletries and a clean towel and made my way across the hall, determined to handle this situation with Maren once and for all.
Flicking on the shower, I waited until the water was hot and steam fogged the mirror. I stepped out of my gym shorts and found my cock already stiff. Damn, this girl had me twisted in more ways than one.
I eased myself into the shower, leaning against the cool tile, and ran my hand over my shaft. I knew this was stupid. I shouldn't be objectifying my talent agent, or even thinking about her this way, but I couldn't help it. I wanted her. Every delicious inch of her.
I had to prove to myself that this was just a physical attraction, and I wasn't into her. Relationships weren't part of my comfortable routine, and even if they were, everyone knew it was a bad idea to date someone you worked with.
