Mr. Heartbreaker Jordan Marie Page 0,11

growl, because his hard-on is so evident, I may need eye bleach. Fucker could have at least worn jeans instead of sweats.

Davis just laughs and gives me a wink. That makes me want to kick him. “That waitress had a nice ass, man, and you know how I’ve always been an ass man,” he laughs, walking off.

“Up next is our new girl. She blew away the competition Friday night and we hired her on the spot. Let’s give it up for Annn---gel!” the MC – a bitch of a girl they call Candi Kane – announces.

I find my gaze turning to the main stage. The lights flicker and the music changes to “Sex Sounds”, a more current song that’s definitely a different vibe than usual in this place. Hell, the men that come to this place won’t even know what this song is, and because of that, the crowd goes confused and definitely quiet.

A woman with long blonde hair slides out from behind the curtain. Her long, flowing blonde hair sparkles. It looks almost white in the rotating lights that gyrate across the stage in tune to the music. I nurse my beer, watching her. She has feathered angel wings and a white mask over her face, which I instantly hate. I want to see what her face looks like. I need to see if it lives up to the promise in her body – because her body is rocking. She’s got on a fucking white sheer dress that looks like something you would wear to Sunday school – not that I’ve ever been, but still, maybe in some fantasies I’d imagine that’s what a girl would wear to church on Sunday. Pure, innocent and untouchable, that’s definitely the look she’s going for. But as she starts moving with the music and that ass of hers moves in time, she looks anything but virginal. She moves like a pro. She might have won amateur night, but she doesn’t look like an amateur. I’d like to try out her moves while she’s beneath me, or fuck her bent over the table. I’m not choosy.

As if she can hear my thoughts, suddenly she looks over my way. Thanks to that fucking mask, I can’t see any of her facial features. If I were closer, I could see her eyes, but from this distance that’s not even possible. But it feels like she’s drinking me in and for a second, she freezes on the stage, even stumbles.

Does she like what she sees? Most chicks do like my looks, but I sure as hell never let them see what’s on the inside. There’s no point. I definitely like what I see. So much so that I may have to have a private dance in the backroom with this angel. With any luck, she’ll like the way Big Mike can dirty her up.

When I think about doing that, a picture of Violet Raines pops into my head. This chick’s hair reminds me of Violet. That could be why she’s piqued my interest so much. Violet is much more innocent than the woman on stage that’s currently grooving to the slow tune on the speakers and untying her dress so that it pools at her feet. There are cheers erupting from the crowd as she launches into a jump and somehow ends up with her leg hooked on the pole. She hangs upside down, the strength in her legs holding her up, her hair falling down like a halo around her, those damn fake wings fanned out, and her breasts barely contained in a white, skimpy bikini top. It’s all so fucking simple, but it’s perfect.

She’s damn perfect.

And as she makes love to that fucking pole, before sliding off and giving the crowd – giving me – her back, my cock is hard as a rock. Violet is the only other woman I’ve had this reaction to in longer than I care to think about. After all, that’s not a problem you should be having at nineteen – even twenty, which is what I’ll be turning soon.

Violet keeps pushing me away. Maybe Miss Angel will be enough to soothe the hunger I feel for Violet…

10

Violet

I know how people would look at me if they knew I stripped. They don’t pay my bills, though. They don’t have my dreams. Besides, I’m not going to lie. I like dancing. It’s empowering to feel their eyes on me and know that they like what they see. Plus, I just