Pole Dance (3 page)

Standing straight, I again brushed my pink parts against the pole teasingly--a nipple here, a long slow slide of my vulva there, a quick turn to present my ass. For that moment, and with that beautiful music, I got lost again in the music, in my movements and totally forgot that I was an orphan deeply in debt and was just applying for a job. That I was just there to impress someone that could help me pay for the next two and half years of my life. I was caught up in the fantasy of being desired, needed. There is such delicious power in being sexually wanted and I was completely lost in the world of my own making, the fantasy of it, even if 'it' was just a cold, metal pole.

The last notes faded, I found myself on the floor, back arched in surrender, my legs lifted and intertwined around the gleaming brass of the pole. If that wasn't bad enough, I caught myself softly rubbing my now thoroughly saturated panties that were pulsating with my quivering, swollen, expanded leaves of pink, only separated from the delicious coldness of my steely 'lover' by a scrap of silk, and just a couple of hip thrusts away from the only ecstasy I'd ever experienced alone in my bed and with my fingers. To say that I was breathing hard would've been an understatement.

I don't know if there were simply a couple of beats of silence or if I kind of lost it for a while, but the next thing I was aware of was the squeaking of Jake's chair. I tried to disengage myself from the pole as gracefully as possible and glanced up only to see his back as he made his way to his desk. Pulling my hair from my face, I snuck a glance at the pole while I straightened to a sitting position, looking for tell-tale signs of wetness on its lustrous surface. Moving quickly, I got a whiff of my own arousal and hoped he hadn't sitting so close to the stage to see any smearing or to smell what my dance had generated within me.

Jake hit the switch on his desk and the bright light around the pole went out and the room's perimeter, indirect lights came back on. Those few seconds gave me the break I needed to shimmy my skirt down and maneuver my feet to the end of the stage. My blush was in neon, a throbbing of my upper chest neck and face following the few moments of my abandoned dance.

Jake slowly turned back towards me as he rounded the edge of his desk but, in the ambient lighting, I couldn't see his expression. My heart was still racing and I was still trying to find my breath.

After what felt like days of silence but were probably only a few seconds, I couldn't help but question, "Well?"

Using a 'come-hither' hand gesture while again directing his eyes towards my single-sheeted resume, Jake motioned for me to re-seat myself in one of the chairs in front of his desk. As I sat down, I realized I was primly tucking my skirt in and sitting up straight as if points were being awarded for perfect posture and deportment.

Jake slowly sank into his chair across from mine, never meeting my eyes, and, picking up his pen, started clicking.

Again.

"That was quite a show," Jake began. "Your choice of music was…"

"Inspired?" I asked hopefully, when he hesitated.

"Unusual," Jake affirmed finally looking at me although I could swear his amber-hued glance was at my chin. The clicking of the pen seemed to beat a faster tattoo as he spoke.

"And the dancing?" I asked trying to sound calm, cool and collected although I was again starting to sweat awaiting his response, his verdict.

The clicks were coming even faster and I found myself breathing in time to the rhythm of it.

"You're aware that you would be wearin' only a g-string if you were to become a dancer?" Jake asked rumbling quietly yet still avoiding my eyes.

"Ye-yes," I stammered but I could feel another tell-tale blush creeping up my neck to my face as I thought of exposing my bare, naked chest to Renee's pervs. It wasn't so much that I was a prude, at least that was what I told myself, but that I just wasn't used to showing my own uncovered self to strangers that had me trembling.

"Maybe I'm off the mark here, ah, Caitlin," Jake said glancing down to my resume where my name was presented in bold-faced, 14 point Calibri font. "Gettin' the impression that exotic dancin' ain't exactly your choice of careers. So, why are you really here?" The pen clicking stopped as his dark honeyed eyes finally met mine dead on and honed in on the question I'd been asking myself since I had arrived.

I battled with myself. Tell the truth or to lie? There were more than a few beats of silence as I warred within myself.

"To tell the truth, sir, I just flat out need the money."

His left eyebrow rose as he studied me. Using his 'come-hither' wave again, I realized he wanted more of my story.

I explained to Jake about maintaining my grades to meet the scholarship requirements and my parent's deaths in a car accident at the beginning of summer following my high school graduation. While insurance had covered a lot of costs of burial, there were still bills to be paid, financial needs to be cleared and what little remained was held in trust until I turned twenty-five.

"I only got a partial scholarship which covers tuition. But I'm working four part-time jobs now that don't leave me a lot of time to study. If I can get one job instead--a job that will help me get the money I need to pay for lab fees, books and the other necessities like food in order to live--then I can have the time to both sleep and study." I paused as I allowed myself to acknowledge how scared I was of failing out of college. It had been my parents dream that I get my degree; a dream that was non-negotiable. They had been determined that I was going to do better in life than they and had been convinced that a college diploma was the way to do it.

"I've taken on just about as much as I can handle. Quite frankly, the pressure is…" I paused realizing that I was talking too fast and too truthfully.

"Almost enough to make you take your clothes off in public?" he finished softly or as softly as his deep, rough voice could get.

"Uh-huh" I admitted in a whisper, eyes to my hands twisting in my lap, feeling my blush deepen.

I glanced up to gauge his reaction to my admission but his eyes were back on my single sheet that depicted the highlights of my work experience. As I waited, I couldn't help admiring him. Jake was a gorgeous man, with his dark, shoulder length hair, well-defined, broad cheekbones and squared off chin which, combined with his smooth amber eyes, was deadly combination. Plus, I had showed
him
of all people my sexuality; a side I had never showed to anyone, ever. I felt a closeness between us than those of most interviewers/interviewees. At least, I was hoping that was what I was feeling after my wanton display on the pole. My dancing, and its subsequent arousal, were still echoing within me.

The pen-clicking started again and I gazed around his large office to try and distract myself from him and the fact that his choice would either see me obtaining my degree with a job at his club or asking, 'Would you like fries with that?'

"I need to see you naked," he mumbled with his head still down.

Chapter Two

"Er--what?" My heart tripped as my eyes shot to his face and my head tried to make sense of his words. "N-naked? Here? Now?"

The pen clicking stopped as he raised his eyes to mine.

He nodded.

My heart started pounding almost out of my chest.

"Uhm" my mind raced trying to remember what underwear I had on and frantically wondering if the lights were going to be on or off when I removed my clothes. I had never stripped in full view of any other person since I started bathing myself when I was seven.

Under the covers was more my style.

Under the covers and in the dark if you want to know the truth.

"Ah, sure. Okay." I could feel the blush begin building yet again as it crept towards my hairline just thinking about doing it. 'It' being the fact that my clothes would soon be off and all my pinkish bits would be open to his, this gorgeous, successful, hunk of a man's, inspection. He's probably seen hundreds or even thousands of other girls in various stages of undress, I told myself.

Yeah, but he's never seen me.

And I've never been seen like that.

"Is there a problem?" he asked still gazing directly into my eyes.

"N-no, uhm. I mean, no
real
problem" my voice trailed off uncertainly and my eyes skittered away from his, which even I knew gave lie to my words.

"If you are uncomfortable" Jake began as his left eyebrow again lifted towards his hairline.

"N-no, no. I'm good." I forced my lips into a firm yet false smile as I swallowed loudly. "So, is right here okay?"

Not waiting for his response, I used my hands on the armrests of his office chair to again lever myself upright, teetering back up on the platforms. To this day, I don't know how my legs supported me. My knees were knocking together in time to my accelerated heartbeat and I felt slightly nauseated at the thought of my upcoming unveiling. I could feel my eyes darting nervously looking everywhere else but at him as I tried to stand still on my borrowed shoes and in an upright position.

I can't remember if Jake even responded to my question but I do remember how numb my hands felt as I reached underneath my blouse and began to unbutton my jean skirt. I had the zipper half-way down when I heard Jake's voice breaking the silence.

"Caitlin, Darlin'."

I heard his soft rumble as my hands paused it's fiddling at the waistband of my skirt, a hip already tipped upward to help me wiggle it off.

I froze.

"Yes?" I queried raising my eyes to his.

"In this business, you usually take your top off first."

"Oh" I could again feel the blush working its way northward across my chest and face.

I crossed my arms to grab the hem of my gauzy top and started to lift it. This is too much, I told myself. But $300.00 per session, my other self whispered temptingly.

"Can we have some music?" I asked cautiously not looking to prolong the moment but hoping to lose myself in music like when I was dancing on the pole. "You choose."

He turned back to his sound system as I uncrossed my hands and simply placed them at the bottom of my blouse. The opening sounds of Fifty Cent's special, sexy voice surrounded us and talked about the Candy Shop and lollipops. I heard the creaking of Jake's chair as he slowly turned back to me though I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally braced myself, as I forced my hips to begin swaying to the thumping beat of the engaging song. I tried to gracefully, stealthily wipe my sweating palms on my skirt before I grabbed the hem of my blouse and began pushed it upward. I felt the cold of the air-conditioning hit the nervous sweat that shimmered on my skin as I lifted my top. I bared my belly and midriff slowly as I bunched the lightweight fabric upward. When my hands brushed the bottom band of my bra, I lost my nerve.

Sneaking a quick glance through the hair that I had started swinging in time to my swaying hips, I saw that Jake was sitting forward at his desk, resting his chin on his knuckles with his elbows firmly braced on the mahogany desktop. His eyes were laser-like, moving over my skin with such intensity that I could almost feel its caress. I turned as quickly as those damn shoes would allow and presented my back realizing, without knowing, that he was more than interested in my undressing. This thought brought the shakes back and I braced my knees against the leather seat of the chair to help still them. I again raised the hem of my shirt and lifted it over my head swiftly, awkwardly.

Remembering I was supposed to be enticing him, I shook my hair to settle it into place around my shoulders and down my back as I tossed my top away casually, or as casually as my sweat-soaked, shaking fingers could disentangle themselves from the gauzy fabric, and let it fall to the side of the chair. I snuck a peek at Jake over my shoulder to gauge his reaction. His eyes met mine and there was a definite sizzling energy that arced between us as our gazes met before his moved down to my undulating hips.