All the men come in these places
And the men are all the same
You don't look at their faces
And you don't ask their names
You don't think of them as human
You don't think of them at all
You keep your mind on the money
Keeping your eyes on the wall
The music sounds in the background and she focuses on the tempo, her mind detached from her body as she moves around the pole. Her hands grip the cold steel tube as she repeats one movement after the other, her arms and legs snaking in and out. Her body contorts, the swell of her breasts exposed through the thin lace of her bodice. Her legs are bare, tanned and toned as she dances around. She doesn't think about it. Not anymore. She doesn't spare one minute to think about any of this: the leering looks, the salacious comments, the wandering hands that are always keen on taking more than what they paid for. She just dances, her mind lost someplace within her head as her body takes over. Not feeling. Not letting herself feel.
I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money
I'll do what you want me to do
"Emma, you have a client," Ruby called, her luscious red lips closing around the lollipop she'd been licking, her long hair in two pigtails, her smokey eyes with perfect black eyeliner applied to them. All this set to drive her clients crazy for her, obsessed with imagining her lips closing in on them instead of the lollipop. Ruby - never a dumb one although she loves to play the part to a T - takes great pleasure in exploiting this to her advantage, sucking their wallets dry but leaving them very much wanting her to suck anything else dry.
Emma sighed, reaching to loose the ponytail holding her hair together, letting the blonde curls fall in a cascade on her back, adjusting her short skirt and small top, getting ready for the action.
"Who is it?" she asked as she drained her vodka tonic.
Ruby gave her a wolfish grin, her lips closing in on the lollipop and pulling it out of her mouth with a popping sound. "Oh, you got lucky today. At least he's easy on the eyes." She jerked her head in the room's direction and Emma followed her line of sight until the spotted him. Dark disheveled hair, intense cerulean eyes, a perpetual three-day scruff and lilting, accented voice.
Emma made her way to him, her eyes focused on his watching her every move, her lips curving into her professional All I want is to give you pleasure smile. He stared at her, eyes darting to roam over her body appreciatively, undressing her with his intense gaze. She was used to it, the leering stares and the lewd thoughts that were palpable in them. She'd all but shielded herself from them, shutting her mind and her body from reacting or being affected by them.
But when his eyes connected with hers - blue and deep and troubled - there was a shiver running through her body. An electrical current that threatened to set her skin ablaze. She shook off the feeling, willing her body to remain impervious to anything that might happen in the next twenty minutes.
She finally reached her destination, tilting her head to the side, lowering her eyelids to give her stare an air of seduction, her tongue reaching out to wet her lower lip.
"You wanted a lap dance?" she asked in a sultry voice.
He took one more moment to study her, the power of his stare threatening to reach to her core. "Aye," he replied in a strained voice. "I did."
She bent down, and his eyes darted quickly from her face to the skin of her bosom and the sight of the cleavage she was regaling him with. He swallowed, stunned at the sight, and her lips curved into a smile as she moved languidly, positioning one leg at each side of his body as she lowered herself slowly - very slowly - until she was almost straddling him, only a tiny bit of space between their two bodies. Her eyes found his again, trying to recall what she knew about the dark haired man that had paid for a lap dance.
Killian Jones. Bounty hunter and private investigator. A regular, at least for the rum and the watching, not so much for the private rooms or the lap dances. But his eyes were dull today, glassy from the rum and something else that seemed to run deeper within him. It was dangerous. The type of danger that could be lilting, seductive, tempting. The type of danger she no longer wanted in her life.
She lowered herself a little more, the lace of her underwear almost touching the soft fabric of his pants and she could feel his hips jerking upward, craving for the contact. The music played on the background, a nameless tempo chosen specifically to suit the dancers' needs. She smirked mischievously and she slowly moved up, denying him the contact he clearly coveted. He softly groaned in frustration and she mentally scored a point in the game she was holding in her mind. It was always like this, a mouse-and-cat little game she liked to play, making her clients go crazy for her without even touching them. He lifted his head, his eyes leaving the sight of her breasts and trailing up to focus on hers and she was once again taken aback by the intensity in them. She bent her body to the side with a soft contort of her hips meant to distract him, but his gaze remained fixated on hers. She tried a few more moves, her hips rolling back and forth, her body waving itself closer to his. Emma felt him tense underneath her, the air of his breathy exhale reaching her skin, but his eyes never left hers.
It confused her, this man that had paid to see her, to feel her, yet all he was doing was focusing his eyes on hers as he fought the urges of his own body. And she could feel the urges of his body, she could feel the heat radiating from him and enveloping her, almost to the point that her own breathing was becoming labored.
Emma shifted again, rolling her hips in a wavy contort, her body lowering into his. She tilted her head, her long hair caressing his face as she leaned over to speak in his ear.
"You've never asked for this before..." she trailed off, her body finally making contact with his, her laced core pressing over the bulge in his pants.
He finally closed his eyes. "No, I haven't," he confessed breathlessly.
"What changed today?" she asked, her lips almost touching the shell of his ear as she rubbed back and forth, feeling his hardening with every friction.
"I was tired of being alone," he hissed as his hips jerked up almost involuntarily. His hands reached to grab her upper thighs but she quickly placed her hands on top of his and removed them, putting some space between their bodies.
"No touching, Jones," she admonished, before lowering one more time, rubbing her body against his more forcefully as he grunted and moaned. Her breasts pressed over his unbuttoned shirt, and she could feel the charms of his necklace and his chest hair tickling her skin.
"How much-" he started in a strained voice,"if one would like to - you know - secure your company for more enjoyable activities for the night?" His finger trailed down her calf and Emma's breath caught on her throat for a second before she pulled her leg out of his touch.
"I'm not up for it," she explained and she could see his eyes faltering, "but I'm sure there are others that will be more than interested."
He sighed, the intensity back in his eyes as they roamed over her face. "I don't want another. I guess it will be me and my thoughts tonight then." His hands moved tentatively to her hips and this time she didn't stop him. Her own hands anchored in his shoulders as she let him pull her down to him while he thrust up. She felt the pleasure running through her veins and she rubbed back and forth one last time, his head jerking back for a second as she left him hard and wanting, exactly the way she'd intended it.
His breath caught in his throat and Emma leaned back. "Just your thoughts?" She whispered as she reached to grab the money he'd left on the table. "Goodnight, Jones."
Later, in the outskirts of dawn, she laid awake in her bed, her body remembering his touch and shivering. That wasn't supposed to happen. She'd shut down her body, disciplined it not to feel anything as she worked her way through each client every night.
But tonight, her body had betrayed her, breaking her own rules and letting itself feel pleasure at a client's touch. Emma sighed as she closed her eyes, the tiredness creeping into her bones and the blue of Jones' eyes the last image in her mind before sleep finally claimed her.
/-/
"You're wanted again," Ruby's voice had a teasing undertone, her wide smile and the glint in her eyes betraying her. "Private room this time," she finished as she cocked her head to one of the so-called rooms at the back, soft cushions and curtains giving the sense of intimacy.
Emma groaned, adjusting her red laced bodice to enhance her chest and pulling at her thigh high leather boots. "Who is it?"
Ruby grinned wolfishly, playfulness palpable on her every word and every move. "Please. Baby blue eyes, dark hair and a sinful scruff. I should get so lucky in my life."
There was a chuckle from behind them at the bar and Emma turned around, rolling her eyes at the brown hair bearded man that overhead Ruby while sipping on his malt. She should have known that Ruby's jest was not only at her expense, but carefully crafted to fit her own agenda. Her own agenda being just one name: detective Graham Humbert. Ruby's best client and rumored to be one of Boston's dirtiest cops. No one would never dared to even to touch a single hair of Ruby's head without her consent, the fear of retaliation from Graham being too much of a risk. No one messed with Graham's pets. And Ruby was his favorite pet.
Whatever her friend had in mind, it was surely in her benefit and Emma could tell by the way Graham was looking at Ruby - as if he would undress her and take her hard right over that bar counter - that it had been successful.
She sighed, running a hand along her hair, making her curls puff into a blonde mane and headed towards the back room that Ruby had pointed. Sure enough, Killian Jones was there, sitting comfortably on the red velvet sofa, tight leather pants and a black shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel, giving a sight of his chest hair and the charm necklace he always carried. He was running his left hand through his hair, and Emma could see the scar lines that started at the back of his hand and crept through his forearm.
She tried to recall the urban legend behind that one. Was it a bad run in with a crocodile down the docks? Or a jealous ex husband not willing to accept his former wife fucking what clearly was a far better option? Regardless, it had been a gruesome ordeal that almost cost him the hand - that much she remembered from drunken whispers of the local patrons that tended to loosen their tongues as the alcohol flooded, thinking of the dancers as dumb bimbos that were part of the decor. And some of them were part of the decor; but some, like Ruby, would only play the part and collect all sorts of information to later trade heavily with other's secrets into her own benefit.
As for Emma, she was not one nor the other, she kept the information she'd heard filed in her mind tightly, only willing to use it if it meant saving her own skin. She wasn't interested in attracting attention to herself, specially not from the type of people that frequented an establishment like this one. Unlike Ruby, she didn't have a dirty cop willing to dispatch any possible threats while making it look like a raid gone rogue and self defense. Nope, Emma only had herself in her corner and that was just about fine with her.
Killian's eyes found hers across the room and put a stop to her random thoughts. He smiled widely, his eyes darkening as she slowly made her way towards him with a little extra sway on her hips. Emma didn't stand on ceremony this time, didn't drag the game. She walked right towards him, her legs positioned at both sides of his and just sank into him. He half-winced half-gasped, and it became a full moan as she rubbed back and forth, feeling him hardening at the movement.
"Twice in week, huh?" she asked provocatively, lowering her eyelids to give him a luscious look.
He smirked, his body responding to hers by the thrusts of his hips to meet her movements, his erection rubbing into her core with every motion. She bit her lower lip to stifle a moan, and he noticed. He raised an eyebrow as his voice dropped an octave into a sensual tone. "What can I say, Swan. Your first dance was too alluring and I found myself craving a repeat performance."
The last of his words were followed by a grunt, as she lifted her body up only to lower it again at a snail's pace, twisting so his face could almost touch her breast, but not quite. He exhaled sharply and his breath almost set the skin of her breasts ablaze, her mind running wild at the thought of his scruff scratching her soft skin.
"You know my last name…." she trailed off, sinking into him again, using the reactions of his body to distract her from her own responses.
He smirked, his face close, his blue eyes boring into hers. "I'm a PI, love," he offered smugly as explanation.
"What else do you know about me?" she asked, trying to keep fear out of her voice but she could hear it in herself and, it seemed, so could he, because his eyes softened.
"I didn't look for anything else," he promised and none of her inner alarms went off. "I know my boundaries," he finished gently, his hand reaching to caress her cheek.
It was the tenderness of the gesture what caught her off guard, but Emma quickly recovered, pulling away her face from his touch and lifting an eyebrow suggestively. "Do you now? No touching, remember?"
He lowered his eyes, a self deprecating smile gracing his lips as he whispered, "Aye… apologies, lass."
She resumed her dance, moving against him, letting her body get dangerously closer to his, until she was seeking the friction of him as much as he was pursuing hers. Emma closed her eyes, feeling her own body shivering and the aching need building up within her.
His hands were close, treacherously close, and she had to muffle her gasps at the thought of his touch. "But - perhaps…" she started hesitantly, her eyes meeting his, finally caving in. She couldn't fight it any longer, her body was rebelling against her mind, begging to be touched by him and once - just once - she was willing to lower her walls a little and let some wandering hands feel her.
He seemed to have read her thoughts as if she were nothing but an open book, her most hidden intentions bare before him. "Just this once?" he suggested in a wrecked voice, his hand hovering over her skin, almost touching her, but not quite.
"A one-time thing, yes," she finally relented and she was lost the moment he pressed his palm flat against her upper thigh. Her skin was set ablaze, her body starting to move frantically against him as he set out to explore her. He buried his face on her chest, his scruff scratching her sensitive skin as his lips offered a balm against it. Emma moaned, unable to restrain herself much longer and his hand traveled up her thigh to squeeze her ass. She grabbed his shoulders, anchoring herself as she ground against him in a frenzied journey that took them both higher and higher, moans and gasps filling the room. But before it was too much, before she lost herself completely, she slowed down, not willing to surrender that last piece of her. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, breathing heavily as he still jerked his hips up, his hard length pressed against her core, sending waves of pleasure up her spine.
"Gods, love, you - you're… fuck" he grunted in a strangled voice, wrecked and gone. He lifted his head and his eyes were out of focus and darkened by lust.
"Did you like that?" she asked breathlessly, her hands rubbing his shoulders, willing her body to come down from her own wreckage.
"Will you not reconsider about those more enjoyable activities?" His voice was smooth and alluring, like a soft caress reaching her skin, enticing her to give into the temptation.
"I told you, I don't do that," she rejected, even as her body protested against her decision.
His hands wandered over her hips, pressing her softly where she was craving the contact the most. "I can give you a wild ride, love." His lips caressed the shell of her ear. "It wouldn't be just about me, you know?" he breathed against her skin and she shivered.
"I know," she acknowledged with a soft sigh, carefully removing her hands from his shoulders, her fingers trailing a path down his chest. "But the answer is still no."
He ran his fingers all over her leg, ghostly caressing her inner thigh until he reached her core, his thumb grazing her clit over the lace. "Until next time," he murmured.
Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips before she disentangled herself from him and grabbed the money that was on the table. "Until next time, Killian," she whispered.
/-/
"Emma, your new regular awaits," Ruby tore her lips from Graham's neck to give her the information and Emma's heart skipped a beat, her eyes scanning the room to find him. It had been a week since the last dance and she'd thought he'd probably moved onto someone else.
Graham chuckled, his eyes fixated on Emma as Ruby caressed his cheek. "Back VIP room, darling. It seems he's keen on some true privacy this time."
Emma ignored their laughter as she made way to the back room, trying to get her frantically beating heart in control. He was just a client. There was nothing there, she was being paid to give him a lap dance. To grind her body against his, getting him hard and perhaps give him a few minutes of pleasure as she rubbed him. There was nothing more than a mechanical friction of her body against his, making him gasp and grunt, imagining whatever came into his mind to get him off as he closed his eyes.
He was just a client.
She entered the room and found him on his feet, pacing back and forth. He stilled and turned around, his face breaking into a soft smile. It was then when she noticed the bruise around his left eyes and the cuts on her cheek.
Her feet moved on her own accord until she was almost pressed to him, her fingers moving to softly caress the yellowish skin. He winced and she retracted her fingers but he leaned into her touch.
"What happened?" she asked.
"One of my skips put up a fight… but don't worry, lass, he's in worse shape," he said with chagrin.
Her lips curved into a smile as she leaned into him. "You can call me Emma," she murmured before her lips closed softly on the cut that ran along his cheek.
"Emma," he breathed as his face tilted to give her lips a better access. Emma gripped his biceps, carefully making him walk backwards until his knees hit the velvet covered couch. Her hands gave a soft push to instruct him to sit down and he quickly obliged, his eyes never leaving hers. Her knee bent next to his thigh on the couch and she straddled him, lowering herself until she sat on his lap.
Her eyes scanned his face, exploring his features, and then she met his eyes again, her hips rolling slowly against his. His hand moved as if to caress her face, but he seemed to catch himself at the very last minute, stilling his movement. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned into his touch, feeling his calloused thumb caressing her cheek, the metal of his rings cold against her skin.
Exhaling deeply, he rested his forehead against hers as they both moved languidly against each other, their breaths mingling and their lips almost brushing until the tension became too much, the heat of their bodies suffocating them and they both snapped. He gripped her thighs firmly, thrusting up to meet her frenzied movements, the friction of her body taking her into a pleasure she'd never felt before. The sound of his moans brought her back from her high, bringing her back into that VIP room and Killian's darkened blue eyes staring back at her. And in that moment, she knew she had to face the truth.
She wanted him. For whatever reason, her body wanted him - was claiming him fiercely - and Emma couldn't - wouldn't - deny herself anymore.
His hands were still on her body, tender movements bringing her closer to him, his eyes looking cryptically into hers. She waited for his request for further company, as he'd done the past two times, but it never came. He disentangled their bodies, carefully helping her stand and getting on his feet as well. He seemed to read her confusion, because he asked with concern in his voice, "Are you ok?"
She nodded, not able to find words, and his hand lingered on her hair for a few moments before he exhaled deeply, placing the money on her hand. "Until next time, Swan."
His arm brushed hers as he passed by and she felt all her walls collapsing at her feet with every step he was taking away from her.
"The motel on 10th, do you know it?" she said in a rush, turning to meet his eyes. He stood still for a second before he looked at her and nodded. She closed the distance between them, leaning to whisper in his ear, "Get room number 5 and meet me there at 2 a.m." She felt him nodding and left the room before she regretted the first selfish decision she'd made in a decade.
/-/
Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she made her way to the motel. She'd fled the bar the moment her shift had ended, ignoring the pleas of her last client for another dance. She'd barely been able to stomach the one she'd just given him, resisting the buffeting of his wandering hands on her body. They only served as a reminder of how Killian's calloused hands had felt on her, softly exploring her skin. But he was one of her regulars, and an important client, so she played the apologetic part and promised him to make it up to him the next time, her own body revolting at the idea. She'd run to the dressing room, hastily discarding her laced bodice and throwing a shirt over her bra. She'd changed her heels for flat boots and grabbed her trenchcoat and purse.
Emma knew how she must have looked, after hours of dancing at the bar. She knew she smelled of sweat, smoke and the liquor some idiot had sloshed over her. She'd briefly considered stopping for a shower and a change of clothes but she knew that if she did, she'd never go to the motel. Her brain would kick in and come up with all the reasons why this was a bad idea.
And it was a bad idea. She knew it. Because she didn't want to lower her defenses. The defenses that had taken her years to build and that she held onto for dear life. Because the last time she had lowered them and trusted someone, it had torn her apart and had led her to this so-called life she was now living. Sleeping with Killian meant crossing a line, a line she'd never let herself ever cross.
Yet, she'd found herself on the other side of the door with the number 5 and knocking on it. Whatever reservations she had, they faded away when Killian answered the door and she could see the hunger in his eyes. The same hunger she was feeling at the moment. Without a word, she launched herself into his arms, her lips crushing his in a bruising kiss. He quickly reciprocated, pulling her into the room and closing the door forcefully before he pressed her back against it, his body moving insistently against hers.
"How much-" he asked breathlessly but she cut him off with a soft pull on his lower lip.
"I'm not here for the money," she attested before grabbing him by the hair and pulling him in a bruising kiss.
It felt like fire, liquid heat running through her veins, raw desire reaching every hidden corner of her body. She hadn't- for years, for a decade, she hadn't let her body feel. Emma had used it as a tool, as a way of living, but she'd shut it down, never letting it feel anything, never giving her body any of the sensations that it craved.
Now that she'd opened that gate, her body was set ablaze and her primal instincts had taken over, determined to squeeze this moment until the very last ounce of pleasure it could give to her.
He untied the knot on her belt and removed the coat from her shoulders, letting it fall into the floor, his lips never leaving hers, his tongue stroking her mouth, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip. She gasped, her hands gripping his biceps tighter as his hips ground into hers, his erection rubbing against her front.
He trailed kisses down her throat and into the hollow of her neck, his tongue soothing the skin his teeth had previously grazed. She made haste unbuttoning his shirt, her nails scratching over his nipples as he groaned into her skin. They stumbled through the room - clothes quickly discarded without any finesse - until the back of her knees hit the bed. Killian lowered them onto the bed, his body covering hers. Their limbs tangled, their hands exploring each other. She memorized the feeling of him, from the smell of his cologne to the salty taste of his skin and the roughness of the scars that marked his body. She mapped them with her fingers and lips, cataloguing each one of the sounds that left his lips.
He drove her crazy with his soft strokes, his whispering voice tugging at her belly, urging her to let go until she surrendered to the pleasure, letting him take her higher and higher. She enjoyed the buzz in her body and the building feelings until she finally came with a soft cry as he kept working her body with his soft strokes and lingering kisses.
Her hands travelled down his chest and cupped him, reaching to give him a few tentative strokes. He bucked his hips against her hands and fumbled for the condom that laid on the bedside table. She helped rolling it down and soon the tip of his cock was nudging at her entrance, his nose nuzzling her cheek.
"Don't hold back," she pleaded and he sank deep into her in one swift motion. Regardless of her words, he took his time, his shallow thrusts dragging against her walls, pulling and pushing until the heat built up in her. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he angled himself and found that spot that had her moaning and gasping and he dove deeper and harder, her orgasm hitting her forcefully and triggering his.
Breathless, sweating, sated, they disentangled from each other and he discarded the condom before he reached to pull her into his arms, his hand tracing patterns on the edge of her hip-bone as they drifted into a peaceful slumber.
The next morning, she was gone by the time he woke up, her scent on the pillow the only reminder that he hadn't imagined the night.