She seems surprised by his sudden kiss, and the bouncer makes a move towards them. Mike for a moment thinks he's found his solution, and hopes the large man will tear him away from her and beat some sense into him. There is no other way Mike would find the willpower to remove his lips from hers, but Mike's last thought of escape disappears when she holds up a hand to stop the man from interrupting.
Her lips pull back just far enough to brush softly over his like a whisper, and Mike breaths in a shaky breath, before crushing his lips to hers. He moves his lips in a pattern she seems to know by heart, and his tongue slips past her teeth to swipe against hers. She tastes sweet and clean, like cool mint and cherry lip balm, completely unlike anything he expected to find in this dirty club. His arms wrap around the small of her bare back pulling her closer to him and her hands come up to run through his hair. Each swipe of her tongue seems to erase a bit more of Mike's hold on reality. Everything becomes her. As their kissing becomes more and more desperate and primal, Mike finds himself thrusting up against her as she grinds down against his jean clad lap. He moans softly into her mouth, his fingers splayed across the impossibly soft skin of her mostly bare back.
After just a few short minutes, (or who knows, maybe it was days, time has ceased to exist for Mike) the girl pulls back from him with a soft sigh. It's only once his lips are free that Mike realizes how much he forgot. Like how to breath, and he sucks in ragged breaths into his aching lungs. With each hit of oxygen comes the realization that Mike was about to have sex with a stripper with a large bouncer watching, the entire precinct listening, and two dangerous Russian gangsters waiting in the other room. And he's not even sure he cares.
"You're not a junkie." She says softly, leaning back and letting her ass settle in his lap, looking at him as if she's trying to solve a puzzle.
"Why do you say that?" Mike says, suddenly remembering his cover, and looking down at his lap, because he doesn't want to lie to her. Looking at his lap only reminds him how she's straddling him and how little the red thong leaves to the imagination. She smirks at him and leans close to his ear. The movement shifts her weight in his lap and Mike's fingers clench for control.
"Because if you were, you'd have this needle in your arm, and your cock in my mouth." She purrs in his ear.
"Maybe I'm not interested." He's lying and they both know it.
She slowly ungulates her hips in his lap feeling the bulge beneath the fabric of his jeans. She smirks at him knowingly. "Damn, you must be a good cop, because you're a bad liar."
"Why do you assume I'm a cop?" He asks in a guarded voice.
She laughs, and it sounds like christmas bells. Light and bright and full of presents to unwrap.
"Because you're not high, married, gay, or inside me." She grinds her hips and sucks on his earlobe at the same time, "...and those are some bad, bad men you're with."
"If I'm a cop, I could arrest you." Mike tries to regain control of the situation. He has a mission. He doesn't remember what it was at the moment, but he knows it's outside of this room. He doesn't remember what it is, but he knows he needs to focus.
"For what?" She smirks at him.
"How about prostitution?" Mike challenges.
"Why? Do you charge for your services?" She grins playfully.
She is teasing him! He's being teased by a stripper and not in the sexy way, but in the you're so young and stupid way! Mike blushes in embarrassment. He wants to impress this girl, not… wait, why would he care what some stripper thinks of him?
He needs to find something over this girl. If he doesn't get the upper hand soon, she'll blow his cover and he'll be dead and worst of all Lex… no wait that's not right. His name is not Lex.
It starts with a different letter. What are the letters of the alphabet? Christ does her perfume have some sort of magic power that makes him unable to remember anything? What the hell was his name… Mike can't think of anything but that her lips feel amazing on his throat and he just wants to strip them both down, throw her up against a wall and fu- F! F was the letter. Felix! That was his name. Mike has to get out of this room or Felix will never see his family again. He feels it took way too much of his limited brainpower to get to that thought. It's like her fingers are magnetically drawing his blood to wherever she touches.
"You're in a strip club. The dirty talks part of the job, and besides I haven't even accepted any cash. But, if you're really good…" She begins to lecture him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she speaks. He's unable to take his eyes away from her. "Maybe I'll put the cuffs on willingly."
"How about possession?" Mike has to stay focused, even as she sucks on his neck and rakes her fingernails down his now bare chest.
"Really? You're gonna charge me with an 11350? You haven't even seen my stash." She smirks, admiring the red welts that are forming on his pale skin from her nails.
"Well…" Mike gestures to his arm and the rubber band that's still tied around it. She's not exactly an innocent here. Something has to scare her.
"That's just a piece of rubber. Without the drugs you've got nothing." She continues dancing languidly in his lap, turning around and bending over so her ass is pressed tight between his legs.
"I could…" Mike's brain is fighting to work through the cloud of lust threatening to overtake him as he stares at her incredible ass that looks like it was made to fit perfectly between his thighs.
"You could what? You going to Terry stop me? I'm not wearing much. I doubt your search will pass the plain feel doctrine. Though if you beg, I might be persuaded to consent to a cavity search." She turns around and straddles his lap grinning lasciviously at him, and his fingers twitch instinctively against her hipbone.
"You certainly know a lot about the law…" Mike says suspiciously. For the second time, he finds himself more fascinated by what's going on in her brain rather than under the scraps of fabric masquerading as clothes.
"You caught me." She says, and Mike would relax except she continues talking and undulating in his lap. "I'm a cliché. A stripper with a heart of gold putting myself through law school."
Mike groans as she slides down his chest, between his legs, looking up at him from where she kneels in front of him with large green eyes. Just the sight of her kneeling between his legs is almost enough to make him cum. This is his first REAL case and he was going to be sucked off by a stripper with his entire team listening. And he thought the Levi thing was bad.
Still he finds himself somewhat disappointed when, instead of reaching for the zipper of his pants she reaches for the clasp of his watch. Loosening the band, she exposes the track marks Charlie painted on earlier, and looks up at him pointedly. In his head Mike is cursing his stupid cover, because he doesn't want her to think he's some hopeless junkie. Keeping her eyes trained on him, her pink tongue darts out between her lips as she takes a sensual long lick to his wrist. When she pulls away Mike doesn't even need to look down to know the tract marks on his flesh are smeared. She knows.
Mike eyes here carefully, the mood tense and dangerous between them as he waits to see if she rats him out. If she starts to ask questions. But instead she looks up at him and says in a soft serious voice, "Those guys you're with, they're dangerous."
"Maybe I'm dangerous." Mike says with more bravado than he feels.
"Maybe…" She seems to barely give the idea much thought, her teasing manner returning, but this time with a dangerously sultry edge. "What would you do to me Frankie that's so dangerous…? Would you hit me? Bruise me? Dominate me? Or would you do all those things, get me addicted to you and then break my heart?"
He wants to tell her he would never hurt her. If she was his, he would cherish her and protect her at all costs. He doesn't want to think about the type of men she's used to. The ones who would dare hurt her. He wonders if that's how she got into this career, because she seems far too smart, far too perfect, for this line of work. Mike can't find words however. Mike can barely breath as his eyes remain locked with hers.
His lips let out shaky breaths and she leans in close, only half an inch away, staring at him in a silent challenge. Her hand slides down his bare chest to the zipper of his jeans. She undoes the button, watching his face as she drags the zipper down over each rung. He just keeps his eyes locked with hers, his tongue wetting his lips as he waits for what happens next. She doesn't disappoint as she slips her hand down his pants, gripping his length in her small hand under his jeans.
Mike hits the button on his watch cutting the feed. He's going to get fired for this but he doesn't even care. Her touch is addictive, and he can't think. For the first time, he takes control. He grasps the back of her neck and kisses her his tongue forcing its way between her lips, claiming her.
"Slip the bouncer a twenty as we go by." She whispers in his ear.
"Wait… what?" Mike pulls away breathless, he doesn't understand. Where are they going? He's finally accepted this, and she wants to leave.
"Unless you like an audience. . ." She purrs. Mike looks around and realizes with a shock, there is another man in the room. The bouncer is still staring politely at the wall, not at them. Mike allows her to pull him out of the seat, his chest exposed and his pants undone, but still less exposed than the bra clad woman leading him.
He fumbles for his wallet, but the girl has already discreetly slipped a fifty dollar bill back to him to hand to the bouncer. Mike hands it to the bouncer, who accepts it with a slight nod and Mike follows the girl down the dark hall away from the club. Now the stripper is paying for sex. A week ago he was graduating top of his class in Quantico on his way to DC. Now a stripper is paying to have sex with him in California. What is happening to his life?