17BLACK

Chapter 1

Close the umbrella. Put between legs. Thrust hips. The feeling of the item between my legs is familiar enough after hours of practicing.

The crowd is now deafening, even my well accumulated ears are screeching. I drop the umbrella and tilt my head up towards the ceiling, allowing the water to trickle onto my face. The water runs past the curls at the nape of my neck and rolls past my collar, down the skin on my back.

Take fancy suit jacket off. Loosen tie.

I break away from the group and walk onto the main platform, the ladies' hands desperately trying to grab me.

I shake the water off from my hair, droplets falling everywhere. I'm having fun now.

All of a sudden I drop to the ground, my hand catching my fall and my hips grinding into the air above the floor. My movements are smooth and well practiced. I've done this in my sleep before.

I do a front roll, dangerously close to the edge.

I choose a hand from the bunch pulling at my tie and hold it in mine, trailing it from my neck to the belt of my pants and curving my body to it. Her hand - whoever it belongs to - tenses, eager to feel my hot, bare skin.

After kissing the hand I stand up and move away from the edge of the stage.

I thrust my hips into the air for emphasis of my next move - taking my trousers off. Well, more like ripping my trousers off. There are specifically made so the difficulty of yanking them off is low. Even so, my audience loves it.

Underneath my dressy attire is a pair of latex shorts, thin and tight. Way too tight for comfort, they constrict my balls and are very short, but at a strip club what does that have to do with anything?

By the crowd's roar, though, it means everything. The shorter the louder, one of the tips to stripping. It's in the unofficial textbook.

I bite my lip and run my hands along the inside of my thighs, running them all the way up my crotch and spinning in a circle that shows off my entire body. The feeling of skin, even my own, vibrates throughout my veins. I breathe in the adrenaline and my hands explore my body without any particular destination; the heat engulfs me.

I don't think the crowd can get any louder. At least I hope they don't. My ears are pounding already and I'm not even done yet.

I glance back at the other dancers. They seem to be in a trance, all in rhythmic motion, it is boring.

And I don't do boring.

I reach for George, our tallest and, from many opinions, fittest dancer. He clearly wasn't expecting to diverge from our groups' routine, but I shoot him a look and see his hesitance melt away in the heat. 

The screams are so loud they echo into a chorus of noise when I spin him around for them to see. He's fit, and he's not shy, even by stripper standards. I raise his hands above his head and tap his hips back and forth until they move on their own. His body radiates heat against mine even though my chest only brushes between his shoulder blades. 

He still has his tie on. Instead of simply loosening it, I bring it to my mouth and drag my teeth against the knot until it's untied. He's a good sport about the routine. I wouldn't have pulled any of the other guys, but I know George pretty well. He lives for stuff like this. 

Which is why I know he won't mind when I tie his wrists above his head with his tie. I glance around to the other guys, but they've gone to the sides of the stage or into the crowd entirely. I don't want to go into the crowd tonight. I want to sweat in the spotlights and roll around in the heat.