Fifty Shades of Ecstasy (17 page)

—William Shakespeare

N
ECESSARY
D
ECEPTION

by Jennifer Dellerman

C
assie Jennings gave a heavy sigh as she turned the truck off and eyed the rear parking lot of the Tennins Bar.
A friggin’ divorce party of all things
, she thought, shaking her head. Cathy’s divorce party, to be exact. And the friends weren’t celebrating at just any bar. No, Cathy insisted they meet in the back of this particular bar, where once a week men took off their clothes and danced in skimpy little thongs for drunk and slobbering women.

Cassie had never attended a male strip show and she was a little nervous about it. How much did they take off? How close did they get? Could the women touch? Did she bring enough one-dollar bills?

She saw her friend’s car drive in, park, and three giggling women poured out, two already tipsy to Cassie’s expert eyes. As a bartender for Cheven’s, she knew all the stages of drunkenness. Not a drinker herself, she didn’t understand the powerful need some people had for it. One beer and she relaxed, two she became tipsy, three and she was praying to the porcelain goddess. Her boss said the aversion to alcohol made her a great bartender. His clientele came back often to see her pretty face and bend her willing ear.

Her boss, Rick Cheven. Cassie sighed again, bringing his handsome face into view. In the six months she’d worked there, never had she asked for time off, preferring his company to anyone else’s. But as a boss, all erotic fantasies and desires stayed firmly in her head. Hands off the yummy man. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d shown any interest.

When she’d hesitantly asked for the night off, blushing furiously at the explanation, he’d smiled charmingly and agreed, even though it made him a bartender short on a busy Saturday night. Now that she thought about it, he seemed more than happy to let her to take the night and go play with her friends. What did that mean? Did he not want her working there anymore? Did she do something wrong? Worse yet, did he know about her crush?

Groaning at herself and her tendency to overanalyze everything, she hopped out of the truck and met up with Cathy and crew at the door.

After paying the cover fee, Cassie trailed somewhat reluctantly behind her three friends into a large, rectangular room. A large stage took up half of one of the shorter walls and jutted out into the middle of the room. Chairs lined the stage on all three sides, dotted with small tables. On the far side and opposite the rear door she’d entered from, Cassie could see a large opening cut into the wall where a shirtless man poured drinks for the laughing women leaning over the counter. Five doors lined the wall across the stage. Wondering, Cassie touched the shoulder of another friend who’d come to celebrate Cathy’s divorce, the one who knew the place well.

“Jaime,” she asked, pointing to the doors. “What are those for?”

Her friend grinned sloppily. “Private dances. You definitely have to try it.” She sighed and batted her eyes. “I have so many memories in those rooms.” She blinked and a small frown drew her brow in. “I think.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. Jaime liked her alcohol a little too much for Cassie’s thinking. And at thirtythree, twice divorced because of the drink, she should know better. Private dances, indeed. Cassie’s legs tingled at the thought. Then she grimaced. The men probably had sex with the women in those rooms, and Lord knew how many women each man had. It was enough to make her mentally gag.

Following Laura, Cathy’s and Jaime’s designated driver, Cassie found herself sitting in a chair at the middle of the stage, one of the small tables at her left elbow. She glanced up as Cathy shoved a Bud Light in her hands. “Just enough to loosen up,” Cathy said as she dropped in the chair next to her.

The lights dimmed and women scrambled to take seats all around her. Throbbing music began to pump out of hidden speakers, loud and seductive, and Cassie felt her heart race to keep time with the beat. A spotlight went on and highlighted a handsome man dressed in fatigues on the stage.

Cassie could only stare as the man swiveled on stage, hips thrusting, legs parted, and then he tore off his shirt, revealing a heavily muscled and hairless chest. Shoes and pants quickly followed and by the time he finished his routine, clad only in a black thong stuffed with bills, she felt sweat running down her neck.
Holy shee-it
, she thought. No wonder women flock here.

Grinning idiotically, she waited for the next act. And this one didn’t disappoint. A blond cowboy came out and had her nearly panting with his lasso and spurs. Following him was a tempting chef, then a naughty cop. One after one, men came onto the stage and stripped, uncovering bodies Cassie had only dreamed about, but never saw in real life, never had the chance to explore. Right now her hands itched with want.

Another beer was pushed into her hands and she drank, only cringing a little at the taste. Once again the spotlight kicked on and Cassie darted her eyes to the stage. A man dressed in a black suit, including cane and top hat, remained motionless as slow, erotic music pumped into the room. He slowly lifted his head and she swore he looked right at her. She gasped and squirmed back in her seat.

This one was different, she thought. Not only because of the black mask covering his eyes and nose Zorro style, but for some reason her blood began to boil and arrows of lust bulleted down to her pussy. Liquid heat, mild from the previous acts, now pooled heavily between her thighs.

As the music swelled the man on stage began to move, rolling his hips, twirling his cane, and finally the jacket came off. A tuck, a roll, more mesmerizing hip movement, then he ripped the white shirt down the middle. Lean, smooth muscles gleamed in the light, and Cassie shivered, swallowed hard. By the time his act ended, she was cross-eyed with lust.

Thank God she’d worn jeans. If she’d given in to Cathy’s suggestion of a skirt, she’d be showing off a big wet spot on the back of it right now. Unfortunately the stiff seam of the denim was riding hard against her swollen clit, making her little uncomfortable, a bit embarrassed, and a whole lot hot. She hadn’t even been touched and she was ready to explode. It would definitely be a vibrator night.

She glanced at her watch. Forty-five minutes had passed. Would it be rude to leave? She didn’t want to waste a good arousal.

Cathy noticed the look and leaned over. “Don’t even
think
about going. Now the real fun begins.”

Cassie gulped. “Real fun?”

Music continued to stream over her as the men all took the stage one by one, until they were there, writhing on the stage, all eight of them, and all unclothed except for their itty-bitty thongs.
Holy Mother Mary of God
!

She didn’t see the masked man on the stage. She’d know those pecs anywhere and they were curiously absent. Maybe because he was the last act? Then the men descended steps at the back of the stage and began to shimmy and shake around the room. Some of the women stood and danced with the men, others ran hands over sleek arms and chests of men straddling their chairs.

Cassie sucked in a breath at the hedonistic display. “We can touch them?” she hissed to Cathy.

“Hell, yeah.” She chortled. “But they can’t touch us. Not with their hands anyway.” She gave a saucy wink and jumped up as the cowboy swung down the line of sitting and twittering women. “Come here, big boy.”

Cassie watched in shock and giddy delight. Then she felt a large presence in front of her. She turned her head and a stomach rippling with lean muscles filled her sight. She tilted her head up to gaze in awe into the masked man’s deep green eyes. She gulped. “Uh, hi,” she said stupidly as her eyes traveled down his taut body and up again. His legs were spread wide, knees slightly bent, and his hips moved with such grace and ease, she could do nothing but imagine them grinding into hers. Then he moved slowly closer, closer, until his powerful legs splayed across her lap and his scent filled her nose. She hissed out a painful breath as his butt brushed her legs, his large and, holy God,
hard
cock rubbed her stomach. She began to pant. As she’d seen other women do, she reached out a shaking hand to stuff a dollar in this thong. But he shook his head, took the money from her trembling hand, and laid it on the table.

“He likes you,” Jaime said from her right.

Cassie blinked, tore her enraptured gaze from the man on her lap to stare at her friend. “Wh—What?”

Jaime grinned, ran a hand over one of the masked man’s arms. Both his hands gripped the back of Cassie’s chair, caging her in.

“He doesn’t want money from you for the dance. He likes you.”

Maybe because her head was tilted, or maybe due to her lack of attention, no matter how briefly, but for whatever reason, the man leaned his dark head down and began to nuzzle her neck. Cassie froze when she felt his tongue trace the frantically beating pulse at her throat. She whimpered at the heat that flashed through her body. She clenched her hands into fists.

“Touch me,” the man whispered harshly in her ear. “Please.”

Cassie nearly passed out from the pleasure bursting in her. The need to touch. Shaking hands reached up and met hot, hard flesh. At the contact the man let out a low groan, moved his head back to look into Cassie’s eyes. His face came down and she knew he was going to kiss her.
No
, she thought turning away at the last second so his warm lips met her cheek. All around her men and women kissed. Then once a dancer had his fill, he moved off to another woman and kissed her. She understood it was just business. But she considered kissing too intimate an act to smack lips with just anyone.

Smoothly countering her evasion, the man pressed his warm lips and moist tongue on her ear, neck, shoulder, then transferred his sensual assault to the other side, not missing an inch of bare flesh. Her hands had long ago fisted on his chest—a preventative measure so she wouldn’t cling and dig her nails into his flawless skin.

Her nipples tightened and pushed against her shirt; her body ached, her pussy throbbed. Sweat rolled freely between her breasts. His deep voice whispered in her ear again, making her shake and shudder. “Come with me to a private room.”

Come, indeed. She nearly did that just from his words. But she wouldn’t go play with this man in one of the rooms. They probably had cameras in there, and though she might be an adventurous sort in sex capades, she wasn’t
that
adventurous. Regretfully, she pushed him back. “No, I can’t do that.”

He looked confused for a moment, but the nervous flicker spoke for her. He nodded. “Meet me after the show.” It wasn’t a question.

Cassie stiffened in indecision, though her thighs quivered in anticipation. “You could have anyone here.”

He leaned forward again, grazed his teeth over the sensitive flesh where neck and shoulder met. “I want
you
.”

She shivered again, on the cusp of saying no. Then a little devil voice popped in her head and screamed
yes! Why not?
it demanded.
It’s not like you’ll ever see him again. As long as he has a condom, who cares? It’s been more than a year. Clean out those pipes!

“I don’t…ah,” Cassie closed her eyes, imaging his hard body moving over hers more intimately than it currently was, sliding in and out of her slippery sheath. She was on the brink already. “Okay,” she whispered shakily.

The man seemed to let out a relieved sigh. “Wait for me in your car.”

“Ah, truck,” she responded. “Blue Dodge.”

She felt a smile against her temple, warm lips against her skin, and suddenly his arousing heat disappeared. She opened her eyes, looked around the room. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. She blinked in surprise. What the hell just happened?

And what did she just agree too?

The next fifteen minutes became a blur. Lights came up and women began to shuffle out of the room. Some headed to the bar, others out the back door.

Cathy tried to get her to go to the bar for an hour or so, but Cassie declined with a quick hug. She walked out the door and headed to her truck, wondering if indeed the masked man would show, and how long was she supposed to wait.