Title: Stripped
Summary: He catches my eye from the first moment I see him, the way he oozes sex. I have no idea what I'm going to do with him when I get him home.
Pairing: Bella/Edward
Rating: M
Word count: 4,833
"Please tell me you're not planning to wear that," Alice groans as she steps through my open front door. I close the door behind her, frowning as I look down at my outfit. I'm wearing the same light gray slacks and navy silk button-down blouse that I wore to work today.
"What's wrong with it? We're only going out to dinner."
"We're also going out after dinner; I told you that already. That is not club attire." Alice is wearing dark wash skinny jeans and a shimmery silver top that I'd never be caught dead in. I personally find her look a bit too '20-something' for a 34-year-old wife and mother of two, but I know better than to complain.
"And I'm not a club person, Alice. Look," I begin, running my hand through my hair, "It's been a long week. I'd really just like to go home and go to bed after we eat dinner."
Alice just stares at me, looking aghast. "We're celebrating your 35th birthday, Bella! You cannot just 'go home and go to bed' by eight o'clock." She shakes her head, looking incredibly put out with me.
"Fine," I acquiesce. "We can go out… for a little while. But I'm not changing."
Alice pouts but relents. I grab my purse and keys, locking the front door behind us as we make our way to Alice's Mercedes.
Fifteen minutes later, we're pulling up outside my favorite restaurant in Seattle. My friends and coworkers at the investment firm, Jessica and Angela, are waiting near the hostess stand. I notice immediately that both of them have changed out of the clothes I saw them wearing at the office today. I give them each a quick hug, before we're led to our table.
As we take our seats, Alice's phone beeps with an incoming text and she pulls it out of her purse, swiping the screen. "Lauren's on her way; she got held up at work."
"See? She'll be wearing her work clothes, too," I point out gleefully.
"No, she's running late because she went home to change," Alice replies, sticking her tongue out at me.
We decide to order a bottle of wine while we wait for Lauren. Alice and I have been friends with her since college; we all attended U-Dub and lived on the same floor in the dorms.
When Lauren arrives, I stand up to hug her, trying not to roll my eyes at the short, tight low-cut dress she's wearing. While I love her to death, Lauren has always been much more… free with her sexuality. She and I are the only single ones out of our little group.
After Angela has complained at length that she had to hire a babysitter for tonight — her husband, Ben, is out bowling with the guys — the conversation devolves into the married women complaining about their respective husbands. It's times like these when I'm happy to be single. I mean, sure I'd like to get married and have a family one day, but if that never happens for me, I'm ok with it.
My priority in life has always been my career, to make something of myself. My dad left when I was only two, and my mom, who'd never gone to college, worked minimum wage jobs in our small hometown of Forks, Washington, barely able to make ends meet. She'd always planned to be a housewife and had nothing to fall back on after the divorce. I resolved early on that that wasn't going to be me.
And I've been successful beyond my wildest dreams. I parlayed my Economics degree to a job at one of the major investment firms in Seattle, making Vice President two years ago. All of my hard work has paid off, but it hasn't left me much time for dating.
"So, Bella," Lauren asks, "How did that blind date turn out last month?"
"Ugh," I groan. "The guy had halitosis. It's too bad, because he looked good on paper."
"Maybe you need to lower your standards," Jessica giggles, already tipsy. She's always been a lightweight when she drinks.
"And date a guy with bad breath?" I ask in horror.
"No, no… I mean you don't have to restrict yourself to guys who make as much money as you do."
"That is not one of my requirements," I protest. "But I do need a guy who's serious about his career; otherwise, I have no idea what we'd have in common."
"When was the last time you got laid, anyway?" Alice asks.
"You know when."
"Oh my God, seriously? Jacob was the last? That was two years ago!"
"I got promoted right after Jacob and I broke up," I defend myself. "I've been too busy to date."
"Who said anything about dating?" Lauren snorts. "A random hook-up can give you all the fun with none of the hassle. Your lady parts have probably shriveled up by now."
"Or maybe grown cobwebs," Alice adds with a giggle. I glare at both of them.
~*~ Stripped ~*~
"What is this place?" I ask, looking up at the cheesy neon sign that reads New Moon. "This isn't the bar you usually drag me to."
"This is a special place for your birthday," Alice smiles, opening the car door as the other three girls get out of Angela's car to join us.
Shaking my head, I follow Alice to the entrance of the club. The huge, grumpy-looking bouncer steps aside to allow us in, and Alice insists on paying the ten-dollar cover charge since it's my birthday.
"What the hell is this place?" I ask again as we walk further into the club. Instead of the usual bar and dance floor, there is a raised stage along one wall, with dozens of small round tables placed around the room. The sound system is blaring out dance music from our college days.
And then I see a waiter walk by wearing tight jeans… and nothing else. "You brought me to a male strip club, Alice?" I screech, turning to walk back out.
I don't get very far before she grabs my arm and practically drags me to a table right in front of the stage, with a 'Reserved' sign sitting on top. She shows a nearby waiter her ID and encourages me to take a seat as she orders a round of drinks for the table.
"I can't believe you brought me to a male strip club."
"You need to live a little, Bella! Let your hair down, let loose… whatever," she shrugs.
"Did you see the bulge in that waiter's jeans?" Lauren asks, fanning herself.
"He probably stuffed them with socks," I mutter.
"God, you are such a spoil sport!" she complains and I just shake my head.
Our waiter returns with five brightly colored drinks on a tray, showing bright white teeth as he smiles while he sets the glasses on the table in front of each of us. I can't help staring at his jeans… definitely stuffed.
"What are we drinking?" Angela asks. "This has to be my only one, since I'm driving."
"Sex on the beach," Alice replies with a smile.
Ten minutes later, the emcee, who introduces himself as T.J., takes the stage, announcing the start of tonight's show. He asks the audience to scream, and the piercing sound is nearly deafening. A half dozen guys, all fully dressed, with masks covering the upper half of their faces, take the stage to the pulsing music.
It's like a car crash. I cannot look away from the stage as the men gyrate to the music. One piece at a time, their clothing comes off until they're in nothing but black g-strings.
Holy… I think it'd be too obvious if they stuffed socks in those.
All six guys are hot, and all six are very talented dancers, if I'm being honest. They put on a good show.
But one guy stands out to me above the rest. I'm not really sure what it is about him. He's tall, but rather thin, though he has a six-pack. I can only see the bottom half of his face, but his jaw is sharp and chiseled. His hair looks like it's mostly brown, though under the lights, I can see bits of red and blond. If I had to put a name to the color, I'd call it bronze.
Angela sees where my eyes are directed and smiles. "He's pretty hot."
"He's ok," I shrug — lying my ass off.
I take a sip of my second drink, then look up, noticing Alice and Jessica having some sort of conversation with their eyes.
"I need to use the ladies room," Jessica says, standing up suddenly.
I turn my eyes back to the stage, watching him as the guys stand with their backs to us, shaking their tail feathers. Goddamn, he has a nice round ass for a thin guy.
About 10 minutes after Jessica returns, the dancers go on a short break. We take the opportunity to order another round of drinks.
When the six guys come back, they're dressed in black pants, white shirts and red ties. They each carry a small wooden chair, which they arrange in a semi-circle in the middle of the stage. And then one by one, they step into the audience, choosing seemingly random women to sit in the chairs while the crowd whoops and hollers.
He is the last of the six to choose someone, and to my horror, he walks straight to our table, holding out his hand to… me!
I shake my head rapidly, but he's having none of it. Grasping my hand in his, he pulls me up out of my seat and onto the stage. "Relax," he whispers in my ear, as he encourages me to take the final chair.
The loud music starts again, and the men begin to dance.
Winking, my dancer kneels in front of me, placing my hand on his tie, which is hanging loose around his neck. I feel ridiculous, but I obediently pull it over his head and he tosses it aside. I expect him to get up and move away then, but he doesn't. Grasping my hands again, he places them at the top button on his shirt.
He's so close to me that I can hardly think straight; I need to get away from him. I lean back, but he reaches out again, holding his hands over mine. 'Take it off,' he mouths, pulling his hands away. Taking a deep breath, I slowly start undoing the buttons.
When I've gotten about half of them, he stands up, ripping his shirt over his head. I'm completely mesmerized, watching the way he moves his hips, when suddenly he tears at his pants and they fall off.
Holy. Shit.
I'm sure my eyes widen comically as he takes a couple of steps closer and his very… full g-string is pretty much right in my face. I swallow thickly as his overtly sexual movements cause a stirring of desire I haven't felt in so long. This man absolutely oozes sex.
Suddenly he turns around, bending over and shaking his ass in my face. And man, is it a nice ass up close. Not to mention, I see his package dangling between his legs. Without my permission, my hand reaches out to squeeze his ass cheek.
He looks at me over his shoulder, winks, then turns around. Placing his hands on the back of my chair, he looms over me, thrusting his groin in my face. I have to sit on my hands to keep from grabbing him.
Smiling widely, he shimmies down to his knees, tugging my hands out from under my thighs and placing them on his chest. As I brush them along his defined pecs, I notice his chest is slick, as if he oiled it. And there isn't a hair in sight, as if he waxes regularly. He smells so good, like coconut. I could seriously eat him up.
As he continues thrusting his groin up toward me, I'm shamelessly touching his chest and tweaking his nipples. Never in my life have I wanted anyone this badly.
But then the music stops, and it's like a bucket of ice water has been thrown over me. It's just a fantasy; this is his job. He's doing it for tips, not because he has any interest in me at all.
Helping me out of the chair, he leads me off the stage and back to my seat. To my horror, my companions begin stuffing dollar bills into his g-string.
"Thanks, ladies!" he calls, rejoining the others on stage.
After one last song, they're done, and the emcee announces that after a half-hour intermission, a fresh group of dancers will be out to entertain us. Apparently this talented bunch was just the warm-up.
"Oh my God!" Alice squeals. "He was so fucking hot. How did you keep from tearing his underwear off?"
"Didn't you see me sitting on my hands?" I joke. "God, he smelled ah-ma-zing!"
Our waiter delivers another round of drinks, and I know this needs to be my last one. It seems they've turned the music up even louder and my head is starting to pound.
"What's wrong, Bella?" Angela asks, noticing that I'm just playing with the straw in my drink.
"I'm getting a headache."
Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a bottle, shaking two tablets into her hand. I smile gratefully, washing them down with my drink… probably not the preferred method.
I wait another 15 minutes or so, but I'm not feeling any better. The next set should begin soon, and I don't know if can sit here for another hour.
"I think I need to leave," I tell Alice.
"No! There's a whole other set coming up!" she protests. "And besides, I don't think I'm legal right now," she giggles. "I need at least an hour or two to sober up."
"An hour or two?" I shake my head. "I'll just call a cab."
Standing up from my chair, the room seems to sway, and I brace myself on the seat back for a moment.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Angela asks, seeing the state I'm in.
"No, no, I'm sure I'll feel much better with some fresh air," I wave her off. "See you guys on Monday!" I begin winding my way back through the tables toward the door.
Stepping outside, I lean against the side of the building, taking a deep breath of the cool September air. I pull my phone out to call a cab, shoving it back into my purse with a sigh when I learn it could be 15 minutes. I could go back inside and sit down while I wait, but my head is already feeling better away from the pounding bass lines.
"You shouldn't stand out here all alone," a male voice says.
I turn my head, spotting a tall man about 15 feet away from me, wearing loose fitting jeans and a dark colored hoodie.
"You never know what unsavory characters might be hanging around the parking lot of a strip club," he adds, walking toward me.
I'm not far from the door — I could easily go back inside if I need to. Yet somehow, I'm not afraid of this man with his gentle voice.
"Seriously, why are you out here all by yourself?" he asks, finally stopping just a couple of feet from me, his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
"I'm waiting for a cab," I explain. "My friends weren't ready to leave yet."
He smiles and my heart starts to pound in my chest. It's him, the dancer! I couldn't see his whole face before, but I'm absolutely sure of it. I'd know that jaw line anywhere. But now that I can see his face… he's even more beautiful than I had imagined.
He looks me up and down, and I feel my face flame at his obvious perusal.
"You're not dressed for a night out," he points out, and my face falls. Is that why he was looking me over?
"I am," I insist. "I'm dressed for the restaurant we went to earlier. I didn't know my friend planned to bring me here afterward," I tell a half-truth, since Alice had warned me about going to a club.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Who am I to judge? Mind if I wait with you? I can protect you from those unsavory characters," he adds with a grin.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be?" I ask curiously.
He shrugs. "I'm waiting for a friend to pick me up."
He takes another step closer and I finally get a good look at his eyes in the light from the neon sign — they're an absolutely stunning shade of green. I also notice that he looks very, very young; he can't be a day over 25, if that.
I take what I hope is a subtle whiff of him, disappointed that he no longer smells like coconut. He must have taken a shower after he got off stage. I wonder if I should mention what happened inside, acknowledge that I know who he is. He seems different though, more shy than he was on stage… when he was thrusting his barely covered cock in my face.
"Do you mind if I wait with you…"
He pauses and I realize he's waiting for me to fill in my name. "Bella."
"Bella," he repeats, and all of the tingles from earlier are back, hearing him say my name.
"And your name?"
"Oh, um, Ethan," he answers with a small smile.
I hear the sound of a car driving up, almost disappointed to realize that it's the cab I ordered. I don't really want to leave him yet… Ethan.
"Maybe… um… maybe you could ride in the cab with me instead of waiting for your friend?" I suggest hesitantly.
"Are you sure?" he asks, staring down at me.
"Um… I live in Newcastle, so… as long as it's not out of your way?"
"That's on the way to my place," he confirms.
I open the back door of the waiting taxi, sliding across to the passenger side when Ethan follows me inside. I give the cabbie my address, then sit back.
"Shouldn't you, uh, call your friend?"
"Oh, yeah, right." He pulls his phone out of his jeans, sends a quick text message, and puts it away again. Looking up at me, he smiles and I nearly melt. "Thank you, Bella, I appreciate this."
"It's no problem," I reply quietly, smiling shyly. Now that he's in this cab with me, I have no idea what my intentions are. I can't actually… invite him home… can I? Lauren's words about a random hook-up are bouncing around in my brain. Completely sober, I'd absolutely never consider something like this. But it has been a long time for me, and he's so damn hot.
But it takes two to tango, as the saying goes. Who's to say that Ethan has any interest in me? He was just doing his job earlier, I remind myself. I've got to be at least a decade older than him.
I'm startled when he lays his right arm across my shoulders. I turn to look at him, and he smiles at me again, setting his left hand on my thigh. I can feel the heat from his skin through the thin fabric. He begins moving his thumb back and forth as his hand creeps further and further up my thigh.
"Is this ok?" he whispers, and I nod dumbly. Maybe this attraction isn't so one-sided, after all.
I can feel my breathing speed up as I get more and more turned on. We're in the back of a cab, I shouldn't let him do this! But I can't bring myself to tell him to stop.
Ethan's hand on my shoulder moves slightly, his fingers brushing against my overheated neck, and I feel it down to my toes. My mouth parts slightly and I lick my lips, still staring into his green, green eyes. He must see how much I want him.
"Here we are," the cabbie says suddenly, and I jump, my hand flying to my chest. Reading the total on the meter, I dig into my purse for my wallet.
"Keep the change," I tell him, opening the door.
I look back at Ethan, who's watching me intently. "Invite me in," he whispers.
Oh God. I nod, unable to speak, and Ethan climbs out of the cab without a word, slamming the door behind him.
He follows me to my front porch, and I notice the way my hand is trembling as I stick the key in the lock. Pushing the door open, I step inside, Ethan hot on my heels. He closes the door behind us, then spins me around, backing me into the front door.
Before I can say a word, he's caging me in and his lips are on mine, hard and demanding. I kiss him back willingly, letting my purse and keys drop to the floor so that I can wind my arms around his neck.
I feel him tug my blouse out of my pants, and then he pushes me back slightly, his fingers steadily working the tiny buttons. I reluctantly remove my arms from around his neck so that he can push my blouse off my shoulders.
Lifting me up, he pins me to the door with his hips as one hand sneaks behind my back to unhook my bra. He pulls it away, his right hand coming up to knead and massage my breast while his tongue does wicked things to me.
I moan when his lips travel down to my neck, sucking lightly. "Wh-what about you?" I ask breathlessly, feeling the fabric of his hoodie beneath my palms.
Grinning, he lets me drop to the ground, reaching behind his neck with one hand to pull his hoodie over his head. His faded t-shirt is the next to go, and then he quickly undoes the button fly on his jeans, pushing them down and off. I try not to stare at his erection, straining against his dark gray boxer briefs.
Ethan's hands move to my dress slacks, opening the hook and pulling the zipper down. He pauses and I look up at his face, watching the way he watches me, as if he needs some sort of sign before he goes any further.
In answer, I step out of my navy pumps, and he slides my pants over my hips. As soon as the fabric is out of the way, he's lifting me up again, his tongue in my mouth and his hard cock rubbing deliciously against me through the two thin layers of fabric.
As we kiss, I rub my hands up and down his strong back, loving the scent of his cologne, but wishing he still smelled like coconut. His hand is on my breast again and it feels so damn good.
"I need to be inside you," he whispers against my lips. I nod my agreement and he sets me back on my feet, hurriedly moving to pull my lacy panties down and off.
I stare unabashedly as his cock is revealed. Holy. Shit. He's completely shaved — or waxed — making his cock look ginormous.
His strokes his hand over his cock a couple of times, and my first rational thought in a while flutters through my brain. "Condom."
Ethan picks up his jeans and pulls his wallet out of the back pocket. He produces a foil packet, tearing it open with his teeth and quickly sheathing himself in the latex.
Turning back to me, he lifts me up again, burying himself inside me in one powerful thrust. I cry out in a combination of shock and pain. He's larger than any man I've ever been with — and any of my toys.
"Fuck, are you ok?"
"Y-yes," I answer shakily. He doesn't seem to believe me, because he remains still, tenderly brushing my hair behind my ear. "You can move," I tell him finally.
He stares into my eyes for a moment, then slowly pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. I hold on tight, letting this… stripper… dancer… fuck me against my front door. As soon as I think the words, I'm embarrassed by my wantonness. I've never done anything remotely like this before, yet I've wanted him from the moment I first saw him on that stage. I may hate myself tomorrow, but for now, I've never wanted anything more.
"Feels so good, Bella," he moans, sucking on my neck. He brings one hand down between us, circling my clit, and I cry out in pleasure. "Let me feel you come on my cock, baby."
"Oh God," I cry, feeling waves of pleasure rush through my body moments later. I cling tightly to him, feeling like I'm made of jelly. He's still relentlessly moving his hips, still chasing his own orgasm. God, to be young and have such stamina.
I bring my lips back to his, pulling and tugging on his hair, and that's all it takes. With a long curse, he freezes deep inside me.
I wince as he pulls out, breathing so heavily I'm afraid he might pass out. "Fuck," he mutters. He lets my feet drop the ground and my knees buckle.
Grinning, he catches me, holding me up. "I'm not even close to done with you yet, baby," he promises.
My eyes widen as I let go, trying to stand on my own. I start to pick up my clothes, but he reaches out to stop me, shaking his head. "Leave them. Show me to your bedroom."
After making sure the front door is locked, I lead Ethan up the stairs and into my room, pointing toward the bathroom door so that he can dispose of the condom.
Turning down the bed, I dig around in my bedside table for the hardly used box of condoms that I know is in there — in case he really is planning another round.
Once I've found it, I set it on top of the table then sit on the bed and lie back. I sit up again almost immediately, removing my diamond stud earrings and leaving them next to the box of condoms. I lost an earring in bed once, years ago.
Ethan steps out of the bathroom and crawls on top of me. He bends down to kiss my lips briefly, then begins kissing his way down my chest. He spends what feels like hours teasing my breasts before he continues his downward path.
I let out a long moan when his lips touch between my legs. He licks and sucks and teases me until I'm grasping the sheets tightly, shaking from the force of my orgasm. And then he does it again.
I'm barely coherent by the time I see him reach for the box of condoms. He slides one down his impressive length, then lines up and pushes inside. After two or three thrusts, he lifts my legs onto his shoulders, sliding in deeper than any man has ever been.
I fight to keep my eyes open to watch him. He moves his hips like he does when he's dancing, powerful and rhythmic, and in no time I'm screaming out my orgasm.
Suddenly Ethan drops my legs and wraps his arms around me, rolling us so that I'm on top. I sit up, letting him direct my movements as I ride him shamelessly. I feel like Lauren has invaded my body or something. This isn't me. This isn't me at all, but right now I don't want to be me. I want to be this sexy woman who's being fucked within an inch of her life by the sexiest man alive.
The next time he takes me, I'm on my hands and knees.
The fourth time, he slides me to the end of the bed, standing up and fucking me until I can't even remember my own name, or anything but the feel of his hands on me, the feel of his cock moving inside me.
He comes with a loud grunt, collapsing on top of me. I can hardly move, but I bring one hand up, brushing it through his sweaty hair. Finally he lifts his head, then heaves himself off the bed to toss yet another condom in the bathroom.
This time when he returns, he lies down beside me, pulling me onto my side, until I'm the little spoon to his big spoon. I close my eyes, exhausted and more sated than I've ever been in my life. I know this can't go anywhere, can't be anything beyond this one night, but for tonight… I want to dream that this is my life now.
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