“Ladies, you can use this room. How long do you need?”
You look over your shoulder and smile. “Give us about twenty minutes and then the show will start.”
He pins you with a devilish grin. “Ok, don’t take too long.”
You hold your grin until the door closes and roll your eyes. Turning to the girl to your left you say, “Cinnamon, what have you gotten me into? You know I hate those corny guys!”
Cinnamon shrugs. “Hey, I thought you could use some extra cash. You’re always yelling about how broke you are. Excuse me for doing you a favor.”
You sigh. She’s right. The cash flow hasn’t been flowing lately and you needed something quick. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little tired. I’ve done late parties before, but 4am? Who’s paying for this anyway?”
Cinnamon shrugs again as she looks through her bag. “I don’t know really. I’ve been doing this party here for about 6 months every 3 weeks and I never see the guy.”
You look at her incredulously. “What? How do you not see the guy who’s paying you?”
Cinnamon pulls out a hot pink bikini and matching wrap. “He doesn’t want to be seen and I don’t ask questions. As long as he’s paying, I’m dancing.”
You shake your head as you dig through your bag. Leave it to her to get you into some crazy mess. “Then how do you know who’s paying?” You wait patiently as Cinnamon begins to change.
“It’s always the same thing. We do the show in the same room all the time. All the guys take a seat but leave an opening to the hallway. I know he’s sitting back there because every so often someone will tell me to move closer so he can see or to do something in that direction. It’s weird, I know. But the money is green and it doesn’t require a lot of work. It’s funny because sometimes he’ll request certain costumes. I have this one stewardess outfit that he really likes.”
You plop onto the bed and begin to undress. If this gets any weirder, you’re out of here. But if Cinnamon is ok with it, then you can give it a chance. Soon there is a tap on the door. Someone speaks on the other side of it.
“You ladies ready yet?”
Cinnamon adjusts her top before answering. “I’ll be out in a second. Is that you Chris?”
“Yeah.”
"Anything in particular he wants to hear tonight?”
“Nah, its ladies choice tonight. Do what you feel.”
Cinnamon grinned again. “Ok girl, its showtime!”
You grab her elbow. “Wait. What is this guy like? What does he like? What am I supposed to do?”
Cinnamon sighs and rolls her eyes. “You heard him. Whatever you want. He’s not all that picky.”
You watch as Cinnamon leaves. A few moments later, you hear the muffled sound of music. Great. Now you have two songs to figure out what you’re going to dance to. You look around the opulent room. Well, by the looks of this place, either this is an older gentleman with money or a rapper. You sigh. This isn’t going to be easy. You mentally go through the outfits you have. He likes costumes. A slow smile creeps across your lips. You have just the thing. You flip through your cd collection hoping you have the right music. You exclaim and pump your fist when you locate your cds. Something is finally going right. You listen carefully to the music. You can’t tell what’s playing. You can only hear some muffled bass. But if you guess right, her first song should be just about done. You’ve got about 5 minutes to get changed.
You’re putting the finishing touches on your makeup when Cinnamon comes back into the room. You look at the bundle of clothes in her arms, puzzled. “Wait, you didn’t make any money?”
Cinnamon shook her head and wiped at her forehead. “Nah, they don’t tip. Don’t worry, we’re making a grip for this. It’ll be worth it. Go knock em dead!”
You hear a tap at the door. “Hey, you ready?”
You go over to the door and open it. The guy standing there looks down at you with appraising eyes and smiles. “Hey, I didn’t get your name before. What do they call you?”
You lower your lids slightly and begin your act. “Midnite.”
He screws his face up in confusion. “Midnite? How did you get that name? I would think you’d be dark skinned for that.”
You smile and reach up to pat his cheek. “No sugar. Midnite isn’t about my skin. It’s about my attitude.” You trail your hand down his jaw and he grins harder.
“Ok then, Midnite. Let’s see what you got.”
You grin and walk out. As you go down the hallway, you keep your eyes open for your mysterious host. The hallway is long and dark, but you don’t see anyplace to hide a chair. I wonder if he’s in a wheelchair or something, you muse. When you reach the large opening, you stop and hand the guy your cds.
“Start with track 4 and just let it play.” A moment later, you hear the first strains of “Man’s World” by James Brown. You smooth the skirt of your Naughty Secretary costume over your thighs and step out into the light. The guys are sitting in a semi-circle with an obvious opening going to the hallway on the other side of the room. You fix your eyes in that spot because you know he’s there. Placing a seductive smile on your face, you walk into the center of the circle. The guys all sit up and take notice. But it’s obvious they are only window dressing. The real reason you’re here is for him. So you make sure to pay attention to everyone, but you throw your sultriest glances to the darkened space. It’s funny, but you can almost feel his eyes on you.
As “Man’s World” ends, you hear D’Angelo start to croon and ask, “How Does It Feel”. You take the chance and lower yourself to your knees. You’ve already gotten rid of the top and skirt. All that’s left is a demi bra and garter belt with thigh highs attached. You deliberately ignore everyone else in the room and crawl toward the seemingly empty space. You tilt your head so that your hair falls over your shoulder and stalk him like a cat. You can feel the heat radiating from the corner as you finish up the rest of your dance for him only. When the song ends, you stand and blow a kiss in that direction before sauntering off to change back into your street clothes. You enter the room to find Cinnamon sitting on the bed waiting for you.
“So, how did it go?”
You smile and shrug. “Not as bad as I thought. It’s a little weird, but fun at the same time. It’s interesting not to see the guy you’re dancing for.” You quickly get changed and wait for your escort to take you to your car. When he opens the door, he hands Cinnamon an envelope.
“See you in a few weeks.”
She smiles as she checks it. “For sure!”
You wait patiently for your envelope as she heads toward the door. The man turns to you.
“How much do you charge for private dances?”
Cinnamon stops just before she reaches the door and turns and looks at you in surprise. You stammer out. “Uh, look. I don’t do that kind of stuff. If you’re looking for something else, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
He grins at you. “Nah, you got it all wrong. The boss likes you. He wanted to know if you would dance for him.”
You look at Cinnamon who is just as astonished as you. “Well, I don’t know. I, uh….”
Cinnamon finally snaps out of it. “Go for it. I’ll wait.”
The man looks over at Cinnamon. “Nah. He’ll make sure she gets home.” He turns back to you. “So, how much?”
You look at Cinnamon again. Cinnamon motions toward you. “Go ahead and do it girl. I told you, I’ve been doing this for months. If he was going to try something stupid, he would have done it by now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
You watch as she turns and walks out of the door. You look back at the man. “Uh, well. If it’s just going to be him, I’ll charge like a party. $300” The man smiles and reaches into his back pocket. Pulling out a wad of cash, he peels off three bills.
“Here. Go ahead and get dressed.”
You hold out your hand for the money, still hardly believing you’re doing this. He pauses just before putting the money in your hand. He peels off two more bills.
“Here’s a little extra. He’s had a lot on his plate in the last few years and he needs to have some fun. He’s never done this before, so make sure you take care of him. He won’t mind the tip.”
You take the money and stick it in your back pocket. As the man turns to leave, you stop him.
“Wait a minute. What is he like? Why does he hide? And what does he want?”
The man looks at you, searching your face. “Ok, I’ll give you a little bit. But I can’t tell you everything. He’s a real cool dude. But like I said, he’s had a hard couple of years. He gets real lonely, although he tries to act like he’s ok. As for what he wants, I can’t tell you.”
You nod your understanding. “Ok, but you didn’t tell me why he hides.”
The man smiles. “He’s a burn victim. He was in a real bad accident years ago and he doesn’t like it when people stare at him. So he has the party and watches from a distance. Make sure you don’t stare directly at his face.”
You cover your mouth in horror as he leaves. You can’t believe this! How are you supposed to dance for someone and not get close enough to see their face? You sigh and drop your bag so you can find something to wear. He’s apparently been alone for a few years. So what does he want? A freak or a girlfriend? You dig through your bag trying to figure it out. Whatever it was, you wanted to do it quickly and get out of here. This was getting stranger and stranger by the minute.
You adjust the strings of the robe. It’s the plainest “costume” you have. But the sheer red baby doll nightie and matching robe was the only thing that would convey the message you were going for. The longer you sat and thought about it, the sorrier you felt for your host. If he’s had a hard time, the least you can do is make things easier for him for one night and give him some love. You grab your cd. This is your special “Set the Mood” mix. Your plan is to just put it in and let it play. You open the door and are surprised to find another man standing there. He looks down at you.
“Follow me.”
You follow behind him as quickly as you can. The man is huge and one of his steps makes up two of yours. He leads you a little way down the hallway and stops in front of a door.
“Remember, don’t look him directly in the face. He’s not comfortable with that. And try not to touch him too much, ok?”
You nod your understanding and push the door open. The room is pitch dark and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. When they do, you notice a slim figure sitting on the lone piece of furniture in the room. A loveseat. You wiggle your fingers in his direction and smile, not exactly sure if he can see you. He lifts one hand and waves. His hands are covered in black gloves and he’s wearing a long sleeved blue shirt and black slacks. His head is completely wrapped in black cloth, covering everything but his eyes. Your brain tingles and you wonder why he feels so familiar. You shrug it off and move toward the cd player in the corner. You find your way, but it’s dark. You head back to the doorway to find a light switch. Before you can turn on the light, a soft and deep voice says, “Don’t!”
You’re startled and jump a little. Turning to the man, you say “I need to be able to see to start the music.”
He fiddles with his hands for a moment, then gestures for you to continue. Wondering how you’re going to accomplish this with him being so jittery, you turn the lights on. Then, without turning, you use the dimmer switch until the lights are just bright enough for you to make out the words on the sound system. When the music begins, you turn your head slightly, looking over your shoulder. You hope he likes Intro. “Come Inside” begins playing and you slowly walk across the room. You stop about five feet away and begin to sway your body, casting your eyes everywhere but his face. You’re trying to get into the moment, but you feel silly. What kind of dance is this going to be without some sort of connection? You sigh and try to reason with him.
“Look, sir, I know the rule about not getting too close and stuff was put in place to make you comfortable. But I can’t work like this. I need to get close to you to do this right. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want, but you have to work with me.”
The man cocks his head to the side and looks at you. You can’t see his eyes, but you can tell that his eyebrows are knit together. Incredibly arched eyebrows, you notice. You try again.
“Your friend told me about your burns, ok. I don’t care. I’m sure you a very nice guy behind all this…..uh…..mystery. It won’t bother me if I get closer. Is that ok?”
The man adjusts the fabric on his face and you swear you hear him giggle. Then he nods almost imperceptibly. You relax and start again. This time you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Slowly opening them again, you slid your hands down your body, enjoying the feel of the silky robe. You can feel his eyes follow your hands and you pull the string holding the robe together. You let it drop to the floor, fasten your eyes on his face and walk forward. You stop again and roll your hips seductively to the beat. You bend at the waist so that your hair falls forward and slowly roll your body back up. Instead of standing straight, you stop bent at the waist, and raise your eyes to his again. Big brown eyes stare back at you with such a look of desire you almost gasp. There is something about those eyes. You know those eyes. But how could you know them? You don’t know any burn victims.
You shake it off and smile at him. You can’t see his lips, but you can tell by his eyes that he is smiling back. You sink to your knees before him and crawl your way over. Just as your hand touches his shoe, the music changes. “Lady in My Life” is one of your favorite songs and you hope he likes it too. Bracing yourself on his knees, you raise your upper body and drag your hair across his crotch. You feel his leg move as he starts to tap his foot to the beat. You look up at him and once again his eyes are burning into you. You search the border of his head wrap trying to ascertain the extent of his injuries. You can’t see any scar tissue. Maybe it’s all on his lower face.
You take a chance and run your hands up his torso. He’s very thin, but you can feel the muscle lying underneath. You feel him take a deep breath as you scoot closer and situate yourself between his knees. You reach up and touch the bottom of his wrapping. He jerks away slightly, until you murmur to him that it’s ok.
“I’m not going to take it off. I’m just going to touch you a little, ok?”
He nods again and you play with the little tendrils that are escaping his wrapping. You then slowly rise and place one knee on either side of him on the loveseat. You run your lips across the exposed skin on his neck and you feel hear his breath catch. You blow a warm breath against the little bit of moisture on his neck and you feel him shudder. The thought flits through your mind that you don’t see or feel any scar tissue here either. You can tell he’s getting excited because you feel his body begin to shake. Guys always do that when you do this set. It means that, for the moment, he’s pretending you’re his girl. You decide to indulge his fantasy and stare into his eyes again. You smile before pressing a small kiss on his forehead through the wrapping. Suddenly, you feel him place his hands on your thighs. His touch is very light and unsure, as if he’s not quite sure if you’ll let him. Normally you don’t. But you feel sorry for this guy. No one’s probably touched him in a long time. As long as he doesn’t go too far, you can allow this.
You nod to him and he increases the pressure, kneading your thighs. You lower yourself an inch so that he can feel your muscles working as you work your hips in a slow circle. He increases the pressure again, and then appears frustrated. He stops you for a moment and strips the gloves from his hands. He then places them back onto your thighs and you are amazed at how soft they are. He begins kneading your thighs again. You normally can stay detached, but his hands were strong and surprisingly smooth. You look down briefly. The only problem he seemed to have is that he was in serious need of a tan. All that flew from your mind as he moved his hands up to your bottom and began to knead again. You barely register the song switching and Prince’s version of “Do Me Baby” beginning. You’re starting to wonder who’s supposed to be turning who on as his hands travel up your back.
Your mind again begins to wonder about this strange man and who he is under all this covering. Whoever he is, he knows his way around a woman’s body. You lower yourself a little more, just to get some freedom in movement and are surprised when he exerts enough pressure on your back to make you actually sit on him. You are not surprised, however, at the lump you feel pressing into you. You look at him again and wonder if you should continue this. It’s already gone much farther than any private dance you’ve done in all your years in this profession. But something in his eyes tells you that he won’t disrespect you. So you let it go. You reach down to pull your nightie off, which he seems eager to help you do. Then you wrap your arms around his neck and begin a slow rocking back and forth against him. You lay your forehead on your arm and can hear a slow hiss emanating from behind the wrapping. His hands have now crept up to your shoulders and he is running his nails down your back.
You know you’re not supposed to, but you are getting seriously turned on. He brings his hands around and grips your hips as he begins to mimic your grind. You shiver as you feel the lump pressing urgently into you. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was trying to figure out how far you’d go. You’re beginning to wonder yourself. You lean back enough to look into his eyes again as you both move. You see the question in his eyes as he rotates his hands slightly so that his thumb is rubbing against the lacy underwear you are wearing. He doesn’t break contact as he rubs his thumb across the front of the thin material and you bit your lip to hold back the low moan coming out of your throat.
He releases you for a moment, and you’re not sure if you’re entirely happy about that. He begins fiddling with his wrap until he’s loosened it. You’re wondering what he’s doing until he leans forward and you feel the flick of his tongue against your skin. He’s moved his hands back down and his thumbs have begun their work again. You’re not sure how to handle this, but you feel your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. You’ve leaned your head back in surrender when suddenly your eyes pop open.
“Wait, stop!” You gasp as you grab his hand and move away from him. You slid off the loveseat and quickly gather your clothes.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I just can’t do this. It’s not me! I’m not that kind of…I don’t get paid to…I’m sorry.” You hurriedly rush out of the room and back to your bag. You gather your things quickly and change, hoping he’s not too upset. You don’t know what came over you. You’re not one of those dancers that trade sex for money. You’ve always been all about the business. And there you were grinding in some stranger’s lap like a horny teenager. Your cheeks burn as you wonder what he must think of you. You know you can never come back here or else he would probably expect more.
You’ve been sitting on the bed with your head in your hands and jump when the door opens. You look up and see a totally different, unsmiling man.
“The boss said to make sure you get home.”
You nod and grab your bag. He leads you to a non descript Camry and you give him your address. After he pulls up to the house, he turns and hands you an envelope. You don’t even look at him as you grab it and run inside. Dropping your bag just on the inside of the door, you flop onto your couch and open the envelope. You gasp as you count the bills. There’s a thousand dollars in here. Along with the five hundred you got for the dance, you just cleaned up. You’re about to crumple the envelope when you notice a piece of paper that’s been stuffed inside. You unfold the little note and the message is simple:
Thank you for the dance. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.
You blush again and think. “That was sweet of him, but never again.” You shuffle off to shower and get some sleep. The sun is going to be up soon.
You yawn and stretch. Sometimes this bed is so comfortable you wish you could live in it. Cracking an eye open, you estimate that it has to be almost noon. You can’t believe you slept that long. The crazy dreams you were having last night were to blame. In your dream last nights dance went WAY farther than it had in real life. You blush again as you think about it. Oh well, you’ll never see him again so you have nothing to worry about. Maybe you even gave him a wet dream or two. You chuckle to yourself as you make your way to the kitchen to scout for breakfast….or rather lunch. As you move up to the front of the house, you notice a little package has been slipped through your mail slot. You wonder where this could have come from. The mail is normally put in the mailbox at the street. Picking it up, you notice there is no writing on the outside except the word, Midnite. Your curiosity peaked, you rip open the media envelope. Inside is your cd and a note. You can’t believe you left this! It’s one of your favorites. Unfolding the notes, you read cautiously:
I wanted to thank you again for the dance last night. I got carried away and I apologize. I hope you can forgive me. I noticed you forgot your cd and wanted to make sure you got it back. It’s a really nice mix. I was also wondering if you would like to get together for lunch one day. Call me if you’re free.
Michael J.
You stare at the note in your hand and briefly glance at the number. This is just nuts. Is he really asking me out? You drop the note and start to walk away when you suddenly stop in astonishment. Wait a minute!
You grab the note again and stare at the signature at the bottom. Michael J? But…it couldn’t be! You flash back over the night. The opulent house. The really big guys hanging out. They may have been bodyguards instead of friends. The weird head wrap and the burn victim who didn’t act like a burn victim. And those eyes! You knew those eyes were familiar! You feel your heart pounding. There’s no way you just did a lap dance for…….it couldn’t have been. Your mind tries to reconcile that thought. If it was…..and you guys almost…..OH MY GOD!!!!
You decide there’s only one way to find out. You pick up the phone and dial the number on the note. After a few rings, a deep voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Uh, hello. Can I speak to Michael please?”
“He’s not available right now. Who’s calling?”
Your smack yourself as you realize he only knows you by one name.
“Uh, it’s Midnite. Look, just tell him I called, ok?”
“Hold on.”
You hear him cover the phone and tell someone that Midnite is on the line. You wait a moment as you hear the fumbling on the other line. Soon, a soft voice speaks.
“Hello? Midnite? Hi, how are you? You must have gotten your cd.”
You feel your head spinning and you sink down onto your couch. You can’t believe it. It’s really………………….
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story are fictional. Any resemblence to actual persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental. The author does not intend any copywrite infringement in any way and professes no ownership of any publicly recognizeable figure or name.
Chapter End Notes:
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