2/24/17

I RUSH OUT of the apartment casting a hurried goodbye to my roommate before climbing into my car. I don't want to lie to my friend about my whereabouts, but I also fear telling anyone the truth about my job. So I avoid any questions about it like the plague and pretend I work at a dinner in the shady part of the city. I notice the sky for the evening is darker than usual almost like a storm is brewing. Like the weather knows my life is in a downward spiral and decided to mirror it.

I graduate from college, a prestigious college at that, in seventy-eight days. The first in my family to graduate high school none the less college. I am supposed to be going places, making money, becoming a hot shot in the big city of Chicago. But no, I'm not going anywhere. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, where I want it to go, and who I want to do it with. I've never been so confused and off track with my life. The only thing I know and am confident about is my job.

The job no one knows about because I would be an outcast. People would throw their judgments my way, and I don't need that in my life. I've had to pay my way through college. Sure I received scholarships but those didn't cover a lot, especially when you live in the city.

So I got this job. At first I was skeptical about it, but to be completely honest I love it. It's no career, but it is fun. There's this part of me that comes over, and I get to be whomever I want in that small moment. No more small quiet Maxine. No, I can be outgoing, daring, sexy, and confident. Things that in real life is hard for me to be. I'm none of those things, but in that little window of time I can pretend, and pretending is fun.

I slow down and take a left at the stoplight to turn down a dark road. The building is slightly hidden, which is odd for a place like this. Most have big flashing lights to grab men's attention so they pull off the highway, and throw their hard earned cash where they don't need to be spending it.

But not this place. During the day it is just a simple building. But at night it's in the shadows, almost drowned by the darkness. Drowned by seduction, sweat, and glitter. I pull into the back parking lot and quickly slip in through the back door.

I head towards the dressing room and slide into the seat at my vanity. I click the light on and the bulbs that line the mirror spark to life. I stop and stare at my reflection for a single heartbeat. My dark auburn hair in stark contrast with my pale skin, my bottom lip fuller than my top, my eyes a dark blue that don't represent my personality at all. They resemble a stormy sea, an ocean with courage and passion. I wish I could be as wild as my eyes betrayed me as, but no. I'm too reserved, too timid, too scared of ever trying anything outside my comfort zone.

The door opens and two girls come chattering through. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and take my makeup bag out and start to apply some moisturizer.

Allison sits down a few chairs away. Her long shiny blonde hair bundled up on top of her head as she begins to set her station up also. "Hey Max how's it goin' tonight?" she asks while smacking her bubalicious gum loudly.

I glance over at Allison, her face and body that of perfection. Every girl has a story as to why they work here, but I rarely ask. I don't want or need to know why other girls do it, and they don't need to know why I do it. It embarrasses me to say I enjoy being here. Yes, I started because I needed the money for college, but I stayed because I like it. I heard someone once say that the reason someone joins something is completely different than the reason someone stays.

And they're right.

I clear my throat and focus on my makeup. "Good, just applying to every job in the world out there at the moment," I speak truthfully.

Shay the mocha beauty next to Allison speaks next. "We've all been there honey. Best of luck," she encourages.

Shay trained me when I first started the end of my freshman year. She's very open about her life and probably the only one here whose personal story I know. She's held other jobs in the past, but without her degree she can't hold a job that pays as much as what she makes here and she has two little brothers to support as well. She has started putting money away though to put herself through college, and build a college fund for her siblings. She wants to work with children and be a social worker. Shay herself has been through the system and says a good caseworker is hard to come by, and she wants to be one of the good ones for those kids.

Finally I finish my makeup and quickly assess my face in the mirror. When I was young I was never into makeup and glamour, and honestly I'm still not. But being in this atmosphere helps me to appreciate the art of it all. Makeup truly does give me the tools to become whoever I want to be. I usually go for the understated girl next-door look. But I want an adventure tonight, so I go for full on sexy. I exaggerate my eyes and lips. The dark smoky shadow on my eyes makes me feel spicier than I really am. My lips are lined and filled with a rich velvety red. I keep the blush and other coverage minimal. I like the contrast between my eyes and lips, and my pale freckled skin.

I grab my bag to rummage through my outfits. Nothing really stands out to me so I decide to bring out my newest piece. It's the most expensive piece of lingerie I own. I dropped a very pretty penny on this, and the funniest thing is that no man will ever truly get to appreciate it to the point that I let him take it off of me. I flush instantly at the image, and quickly slip into the outfit.

"This is gorgeous," Shay gushes as she assists me with the corset top. I nod in thanks before I pull my thigh-highs up to clip to my garter belt. I always get a tad nervous when I wear something new.

I take a quick once over of my body. The black lace corset and matching panty set really bring out my already dark eyes. The sheer black stockings are slimming on my legs making them look longer than they actually are. I slip on my black pumps and my legs look even better. My hair tumbles down my back in natural waves.

I look like trouble, like I can swallow a man whole and spit him out.

If only if that were true.

The only troubling part about me is that I take off my clothes for money.

* * * * *

Andrew, the owner of the club, put me on the floor to start out tonight. So that means running drinks, flirting, and the occasional lap dance. I prefer being on stage, where I don't have to actually interact with the men. I've only ever been with one man, and it was a terrible experience. So to try and become a customers fantasy come to life is hard, especially when they are beneath me.

I walk out to the main club lounge that is lined with a bar on the far side, and two different stages. There is a large stage in the center of the room, and a smaller one closer to the private rooms.

When most people think of strip clubs they think of sleazy men, cheesy dances, an owner who is a dick, and a breakfast buffet. But Midnight is not that type of club. Most men that come to Midnight are men of some type of wealth. This isn't an average club. It's expensive and classy (well as classy as a strip club can be) and downright sinfully sexy. The whole club is decked out in rich deep jewel tones, plush fabrics, and drowned in a wicked elegance.

The dances are set to hair raising, bone vibrating, bass dropping music that makes the customers skin cover with gooseflesh. The owner Andrew isn't a ass. He's intense and knows what he wants, but he would never let anyone lay a hand on one of his girls. He is fiercely loyal, and stands up for what is right. And no, sadly there is no breakfast buffet here. But a bar with extremely expensive liquors and wines that would make the average Joe wince at their prices.

I stride over to the far side of the bar and wait for a drink order. When I start on floor I like to get a feel for the room first before I venture out. The club has a few men already here but over the next couple hours the club will be packed, it is a Friday night after all.

"Kay!" I shout towards the other end of the bar at the bartender Kayla. She flashes me a quick smile signaling she's heard me as she finishes up talking to a customer. Her tan skin and jet-black hair sit in contrast with her skimpy white outfit that accentuates her amazing body. Kayla is tall, like six feet tall, and owns it like no other. She doesn't care. She rocks her heels every night, and she has quickly become a customer favorite over the past few months. Between her sick body and sassy attitude guys go gaga for her instantly.

She finishes up the man down the bar and comes right over. "What's up Maxamillion?"

I can't help but smile at her nickname for me. It's what my dad used to call me when I was younger, when life was easier. "Any parties tonight?" I ask. She always knows the schedule for the night like the back of her hand. I think it's because Andrew and her have a little thing going on, but every time I ask she simply pushes the subject aside.

She starts grabbing some bottles and mixing a drink as she nods. "Yeah a bachelor party and then a few smaller groups." She finishes the drink and sets it on a tray already filled with other glasses and hands it over to me. "Table six," she tells me.

"Thanks," I tell her with a smile and head off onto the floor with the tray of vodka waters, scotches, and beers.

I weave through the array of tables and slowly deliver drinks whilst innocently flirting with the men. I like to lay on the flirting lightly first, and the more I come by a man lay it on thicker and thicker until he is begging me to stay there longer. Which means more money being slipped in my undies or hands.

The main lounge fills with more and more men as a couple hours pass into my shift until I know we are at capacity. The music is almost deafening as women dance on the stages keeping every single man in rapt attention. I am up at the bar as Kay whips up another round of drinks when the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Something within the air changes, everything is suddenly heightened. Charged. I turn to face the lounge and I know someone's eyes are on me, I can feel them watching me. Yet as I scour the crowd I can't place the person whose eyes are holding onto me.

I suddenly feel nervous and insecure. I can usually mask my shyness at the club, but knowing someone is watching me puts me back on edge.

I feel a hand on my shoulder that pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to my right to be greeted by Andrew. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him. He rarely bothers a girl on the floor. "What's going on?" I question as I start to grab the tray of drinks from Kay.

Andrew immediately takes the tray from my hands and sets it back on the counter. "You're done on the floor Max," he states.

"Oh, am I needed on stage? I didn't see I was scheduled for that...." I trail confused.

He shakes his head. "No, you are doing a private." His eyes dart around the room as if he can watch everything that happens in this club all at once.

My eyes widen. "Oh, I didn't think I made a big impression on anyone tonight. Everyone's eyes have been glued to Sidney all night," I say as I motion to the petite blonde haired blue-eyed angel on stage.

He lifts a single shoulder. "Well this guy wants you, and I need you to give him your best damn private in there," he says as his grey eyes hold mine intensely.

I bite my lip. "Is he important?" I swallow nervously.

Andrew nods. "He's someone who could be useful in my corner. So just do your thing and don't fuck it up alright?"

I nod once, not being able to talk as nerves eat their way through me.

I haven't given a private in almost a month. I'm a tad out of practice, and this is not the time to be out of practice when I'm about to give a private to some hot shot. I run a hand through my hair to add some volume, I roll my shoulders back, and I blow out a single breath. I am Maxamillion, which means when I am here, I am sexy, poised, and worth a million bucks.

I turn to Andrew a new air of confidence washing over me. "What room?"

He smiles at my noticeable change in demeanor. "That's my girl. Room four." And with those words I turn on my heel and head down the long hallway of private rooms. I stop in front of room four, and take one last moment to myself before I become the fantasy this man never knew he had or needed.

I turn the handle and step into the dark room dimly lit with single strand twinkly lights hanging against the walls from floor to ceiling. These lights are the only light provided. My eyes hone in on a single man, his back to me on the large indigo velvet couch. He remains facing forward, but his head tilts slightly to the left when I enter. I can see his hand resting on the armrest, and his hand clenches at my presence. The tap of my heels and the click of the door shutting do nothing as to reveal this man to me.

The same feeling of being watched, even without his eyes on me, fills me similar to earlier in the evening. The feeling of electricity slides through my veins as I take a shallow breath and a step towards the mysterious man.

The music in the room slides into a new song. The beats are deeper, more sensual, and they start to weave through me as I take a step towards the couch and the dark haired man. I reach the couch and lift a singular finger to trace the stranger's neck and down his left shoulder, a signature move I always pull in privates.

But I don't make it that far, as soon as my finger makes contact with his smooth skin his hand shoots out to grab onto my wrist and stops me. A small breath falls from my lips paired with a racing heart as his hand on my skin startles me. But I don't pull away, shove him, or make a snide remark. In fact I don't even say a word. Not even to say the one thing a stripper is supposed to say in this situation: no touching. No, I stay completely still as his hand encircles my wrist setting my body on fire.

I lick my dry lips. "What are you doing?" I ask, my voice barely audible above the bass of the music pouring from the speakers.

He doesn't answer my question, but instead laces his fingers through mine and tugs at me to round the couch until I'm straddling his lap. His hands grip my waist as mine land on his chest. He's so close now that every detail of him hits me in the face so hard a small breathy gasp lodges in my throat. His dark hair curls at the collar of his crisp button-up white shirt begging for my hands to tug on his locks. His dark eyes watch me watch him, and I can feel myself heat from his hard gaze. Everything about him is perfect, his straight nose, sharp cheekbones, lightly tanned skin, full lips that tug at something deep within me.

His hands squeeze my waist and pull me even closer, my skin suddenly ablaze from his touch, his heat, and his presence. It's all so overwhelming that I find myself scrambling off of him till I'm standing in front of him. My eyes linger on his body because I suddenly feel cold without his hard body pressed underneath mine.

My eyes reach his, amusement fills them and his hands are now resting behind his head. His body the picture of ease, everything about him screams sex and it's hard to not want a small taste. My neck flushes at the idea of being with him. But I shake my head and get back into professional mode, the mode where I'm in control. Where I don't let him get under my skin. A smirk lifts my lips as I place a hand on my hip. "No touching," I finally say. I raise an eyebrow as I state the rules.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not really known for following the rules," he says. His deep voice has an edge that sends shivers down my spine.

"I can tell." I can't help but smile at his words. "But while I appreciate a rule breaker, the club doesn't." I take a few steps forward placing my hands on either side of his head, caging him in. I let my inner stripper take over and I lick my red lips before asking, "Now, what can I do for you tonight?" My eyes lock on his dark ones, and my body sways closer of its own accord.

His jaw clenches before he says, "Oh, I can think of a few things you could do for me, but I can't stop thinking of the many things I would rather do to you," he says letting his dark silky words crawl over me. A man's words, let alone a customer's words have never affected me this way before. My skin itches to be touched by him, and I can feel myself slowly getting turned on. A part of me is appalled at the idea, but another part of me in intrigued by this mystery man

This man who for some unknown reason I'm drawn towards.

I pull my body away from his and stand up again needing the space to be able to think. I begin to play with the edge of my corset. "I can work the pole for you, strip, lap dance," I offer. My eyes flicker to his. "Anything you want." The sudden need to be his greatest fantasy drowns out every other thought.

He stands abruptly, and in two swift steps he has his body so close to mine that I can feel the heat of his skin. Even through his clothes. He has on a two-piece black suit, nicely tailored to his body. His white button up shirt has a few buttons undone at the top so I can see a flash of skin. No tie, jacket open.

God, I have never wanted someone so instinctually like I want this man. And I don't even know his name.

"Turn around," he states his body filled with tension.

"No touching," I remind him.

"Turn around." This time it's a demand, and I hate how much I like it.

I rotate to face the small stage and pole. A part of me wishes he just wanted to see a striptease or me on the pole. But no, he has something else in mind, and it makes me hot all over to wonder what he will do to me.

All of the sudden I feel a tug on my corset. I turn my head to the side to see his fingers deftly untying my top. "Hey I said no touch—"

"I'm not touching you technically." His lips smirk at his words cut me off, and a small dry laugh comes from my lips. He is right. Technically he isn't breaking any rules, and yet he is in so many ways.

"You could've just asked me to strip," I state.

"I wanted to do it," and with those words my corset sags and is only supported by my hands holding it against my chest. I slowly turn to face him, his dark eyes wild yet focused at the same time. "Drop your hands," he almost growls.

I pause, because this decision doesn't come from stripper me like it should. It comes from a part of me I didn't even know existed within me. A part that aches to be wild, and sexy, and in this moment I am. He makes me feel like a new me, but a me that has also always existed. I love this feeling, I embrace it, and relish in it. I drop my hands and let the lace corset fall to the ground.

His eyes narrow in on my chest, and I feel my neck flush. Many guys have seen me naked. On stage. In privates. But this right here and right now feels different. Feels like more. His eyes light a fire in their path from my chest to my legs and everything in-between. "Are you sure I can't just have one little touch?" he pauses as his eyes meet mine. "I know you would like it."

I shake my head, but I can feel the resolve in me start to fall away. "No...touching." My words are no longer strong and flirty, but weak and wispy.

He steps away from me, and returns to the velvet couch before me. "I think I want that dance now," his words smooth and with a touch of danger.

But something about him makes me want to be dangerous.

His legs are spread so I place my right-heeled foot between his legs, my foot just slightly brushing his inner thigh. He lets a sharp breath out in shock, but then smiles as if he understands this silent game I'm playing with him. As if he understands me even more than I do. I reach down and unhook my ankle strap before presenting my heeled foot to him. A dark smile plays on his sharp features. "Oh how I love technicalities," he breathes.

He then proceeds to take of my black heel, careful to not touch any part of my ankle or foot. He takes the shoe and places it to the ground. I then reach down again and unhook the clip from my black thigh-high. I place my middle finger under the hosiery and lock eyes with this man who sets me on fire. His eyes, alit with a passion so strong I might physically combust, watch me as I bring the sock down exposing my bare leg to him. His eyes tear a way from mine as he takes in my leg. His hands rise as if about to touch me, but then drop as if he remembers he can't. He then fists his hands as if it is the only thing that will hold him back.

I proceed to do the exact same with my left leg, and as soon as my left leg is clear of any hosiery he grabs me by the back of my calf. My body slides up against his until I'm straddling his hips up close and personal.

We dance this fine line of what's deemed appropriate, and we are quickly leaving this line into a territory I never allow myself to go with a customer. His hands slide up the back of my calves slowly torturing me until they land on my ass. As soon as his hands squeeze I open my mouth to remind him of the rules, but he cuts me off.

"I know, I know." His hands linger an extra second before he lifts them from my body. "No touching," his words come out tight.

I nod in agreement though I don't know how much longer I will have the heart to say them. I love my job. I get to be someone else for this small window of time. Someone who I can't be in the real world because I am too scared and timed to be this girl, to be the girl who takes what she wants with no regrets. And I have never been even close to tempted to crossing this line with a customer. Not once, not ever. But not one man has ever made me feel like I am about to catch on fire. That one touch and I will be aflame, burning with a deep need I never knew existed. I never knew I could feel like this, and for some reason I never want it to go away.

The deep beats of the music twist through my body as I sway my hips into his. I place my hands on his chest and my eyes fall into his dark, needy ones. I know what he wants, but I don't know if I can give that to him. So I rock my hips into his harder this time, feeling him through his pants. His chest rises faster as my hips dig into his, aligning us perfectly to what we know we truly want.

My eyes close for a second and suddenly I feel a heat, hot and wet against my chest. My eyes fly open to see him let out another breath over my breasts. He isn't touching me, but he's so close, so close I can almost feel his mouth, his lips, and his tongue against my skin. His eyes flicker up to mine, searing into mine, and I know in that moment that I can't fight what I want anymore. I know in that moment I want him, and am positive that I knew I was going to let him touch me from the second I walked into this room.

His hot breath hits me one more time, before he blows a cool breath straight onto my heated skin. My head falls back as a small panting moan leaves my lips. "Tell me you want me to touch you, please, I need to touch you," his voice is gruff and grating against my skin.

I lift my head to look down at his head still level with my chest, and I nod once.

A small smirk spreads over his lips. "Say it."

I press closer to him, trying to get his lips on me. Trying to get him to touch me through my actions. Saying the words makes it too real. I can't cross that line, can I?

He pulls further away, his breath not brushing me into a frenzy anymore. "Say it." His words are darker, harsher this time. A command.

And I break.

"Touch me, please."

And his lips land on my skin.

•

Author's note:

If you read Lost you will notice this story is beginning at chapter 28, which means this book will actually take place before the Lost epilogue. Just a heads up.