Claimed By My Ex Boyfriend's Dad

Laura. "Jesus, Maisie, how am I supposed to cope here?" I glance away from Maisie, who's sitting behind the steering wheel of my sedan, to the parking lot filled with various types of expensive cars. She truly wasn't kidding when she said Sin House is the most elite sex Club in the city. I've not gotten inside yet, but I already feel intimidated. Maisie chuckles, the sound drawing my attention. "Damn, the energy is already pulsing from out here. What do you smell, flower girl," "Huh?" I flick my eyes back at her, brow arching. "I smell hot sex, Laura. The musk of the hottest daddies in this city." She unbuckles her seat belt, shoving out. Clearly, Maisie isn't feeling the intimidation I feel, even wearing that skimpy, backless silver gown with a deep V-neckline that leaves her whole cleavage open. I slowly get out of the car too, rubbing my fingers together as I look at the dome-shaped building with shiny glass walls. It's tucked away in a private estate. Already, there are bouncers around the parking lot and the revolving glass doors, which are the entrance, guarding the place. It's unlike normal clubs where you see people lined up in a queue, waiting to get permission to go inside. Sin House is strictly based on invitation, which I'm clutching tightly. Maisie, on the other hand, is here to strip and has her card with her. As we reach the bouncers, they nod knowingly at Maisie, showing they know her. I show them my invitation and stride in after Maisie. We stride down the hallway with red velvet walls and black marble floors, my eyes pinned on the double stainless steel doors at the end of the hallway where the bass of the music playing inside streams from. One of the doors in the hallway opens, and a girl, probably 5'8, dressed in a red leather harness with rings that left her breasts open and thigh-high heels, comes out. Her purple hair was tied into a ponytail. The tiny frown on her face lifts when she sees Maisie. "Maisie! Thank goodness you're here," She lets out. "What's good, Piper?" Maisie asks as we stop before Piper," "We're running short of one stripper tonight. Christine called in sick, and she's supposed to attend to a client named Shark, who booked an exclusive lap dance." I'm assuming she's the leader of their freelance stripping group. "Oh, shit." Maisie curses. "What do we do?" "We need a replacement," Piper confirms. Her eyes skate over to me and glint. My head draws back when I understand what she intends. Maisie's look equally confirms it. "You want me to be a replacement? No way, I'm not doing this," I blurt, already backing away. "Come on, Laura. There's no harm in doing it. Christine isn't here to take the job and we're going to lose all our money if we're not complete tonight." I look at Maisie like she's grown two heads. Her doe-eyed look clenches my heart. "I don't know what to do out there," I cry out. "But you can dance, right?" Yeah, right. I was once good at ballet. I try to argue more, but she huffs, "See? You've got the skill, flower girl, let's go," Piper opens the door to the dressing room that instant, and they pull me inside. I'm shocked to see various colors of lingerie and harnesses in the room. Maisie sets me before the mirror, removing the green backless mid-thigh gown she gave me earlier. I feel so exposed. I cover my breasts. The other strippers in the dressing room don't even look fazed about their nakedness. "Just relax and let me transform you," Maisie leans into my ear and whispers. We look at each other through the mirror silently. She goes to the rack and selects a black lingerie, throwing it at me. I begrudgingly shove my legs into what I realize are a net panties and bra. I thought the backless dress earlier was revealing, but I was wrong. This here is revealing. It gives this sense of indecency, but shockingly, I'm not so repulsed by it. Not even when my nipples peek through the net. Piper helps Maisie put me on black strappy harnesses with rings. I feel like I'm about to get choked. My light brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail just like the others, and then they place a cat-shaped mask over my face. They coat my lips in black lipstick and shove my legs into some shiny leather thigh-high stilettos. When I look in the mirror again, I appear different. Indecent but hot. I've never felt like this before. But after that comes the lessons. How to own the moment like it's mine. How to capture the attention of the man, how to keep a steady eye contact, and how to grind my assets on him. I steel my nerves and listen. ___ We all leave after the lessons, heading into the room where the music is coming from. In the hallway, the sound had been dull, but inside here, it's loud, thrumming through my veins. My gray eyes flit through the space lit by kaleidoscopic lights, at the naked, tangled bodies, enjoying the bliss of rocking their sex together. When I look over at the dance floor, I see some men, probably in their thirties and above, bent to their waists as women fuck them with strap-on dildos. On one of the sofas, my eyes glimpse five men sharing one woman, her moans rising over the music. I've never seen a live porn, until now. The tension builds, and my throat clogs. The moans barreling into my ears as both genders get pounded by their partners makes my core throb. The other strippers, including Maisie, walk to the stage, taking on the poles and twirling around them like they were made for this. I strut past the naked bodies and head up the spiral staircase that leads to the VIP section, as was told. It has a private booth surrounded by one-way mirror glass that overlooks the scene below. I expected to see an old man with a wrinkled face, but surprisingly, he's young. Well, not so young. Maybe he's in his mid-forties. He's dressed in a spotless white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his biceps. He doesn't have any tattoos I can see, but he certainly has muscles and bulging veins swirling up his wrists to his biceps. His shoulders are broad, and through his five undone buttons, I see a snick of his muscled chest. I look down and marvel at how his black slacks wrap around his toned thighs. His jaw is sharp. Chiseled to perfection with a fine line of salt and pepper beard, the same color as his quiffed hair. A Cuban cigar is wrapped around his lips, oozing a bright orange cherry glow with each drag he takes. He hasn't spoken, but I can already feel his intimidating aura. His blue eyes focus on me, practically undressing me. A glint of approval shines in his eyes, and the devious way his lips quirk up makes my core melt. I'm about to have a heart attack; that's the only thing that can explain this spike in my heart rate. I feel so conscious of every dart of his eyes around me, and the burn it leaves in its wake makes my body bead with sweat. He raises a hand, flicking two fingers at me. A signal to come forward. My legs move on muscle memory. I pose in between his powerful thighs, trying to put into practice what I was told. My gray eyes fix on his sharp blue ones. He looks so hot and powerful. A dark aura steams from him, luring me in. I've never been wet with just a look. Not even when I was with Liam. Liam! His name spurs a sour taste on my tongue. I push everything about my ex-boyfriend away from my mind and focus on this moment. I push my sense of morality away, looking hungrily at the man. He leans up from the burgundy sofa, raising his free hand to my left breast. Just one firm touch. That's all it takes for me to combust. A moan builds at the back of my throat, my head thrown back. He slides that hand over my nipple, touching it through the net bra. His eyes glow. And then he lands a short spank to my breast, growling. "Show me what you've got, Little flame, ride me," I don't know if it's his voice or the nickname he just called me, but a strange pulse goes off in my pussy. I look down at him, my eyes hooded with need. Confidence floods my veins, and with it, I straddle him. Tension seeps and clouds the air in the booth, pulsing with the sensual music streaming in the club. With deliberate, slow grace, I start to sway my asset over him. Heat flares between us as we stare at each other.