FOUR

- ISOBEL -

It all happened so fast. One minute I was at the back of the stage, getting ready for my final performance then the next, I was drinking alcohol before getting on that stage.

And I saw him there. This time, in the front, seated with his legs spread open and he wore a confident smile. I felt my heart beat resonate in my ears when I descried his form.

I wasn't touching him, nor was my body in contact with his in any way, yet he reacted to my advancements while letting it be known to me.

My head was spinning with satisfaction after the performance. That was till I was notified that I had been bought. I wasn't told by who and the suspense kills me.

Now I'm making my way through the dark, expensive VIP corridor to meet him. Whoever it is.

A cold shudder runs down my spine as I take a quick breath in preparation, standing in front of the black door with the room number. I don't know what lays behind this door. More like who.

I stretch my hand holding the room card to the side and a soft ding as the door opens slid in my ears.

My heart begins to pound violently in my chest. This is it.

Although clients are waiting for our arrival, we're not invited in until they say so. The door already is slightly ajar and whoever is in there hasn't said anything.

"Cleopatra at your service." I lower my tone, calling huskily by the door.

"Come in." That deep baritone sends shivers down my spine. I can't tell who it is. I lower my hand to the side of the door and press the card on the scanner again. This time, I push the door open slowly. A gasp escapes my lips as I strode in.

Seated confidently on a sofa in this dark room is a masked man. My eyes did a thorough scan of his body. I'd make no mistake remembering that figure even with my eyes closed.

It's him. My heart does a flip. I bite my lower lip.

Sighting him is a turn on. He must've enjoyed my performance.

He has his legs spread open like he did in the club. The ends of my lips curl with satisfaction.

"Cleo." The gentleman calls suavely. I hate that his mask serves as a blockade for his face. It's one thing locking eyes with him on that stage, it's another seeing him one on one. Face to face. I want more than the hidden view he shows me.

I also want him undressed.

"Sir." I mutter in a low seductive tone, keeping my eyes on him. The man stretches his hand to the side, hands that supports a half full glass of an amber liquor. From the scent, I can tell it's whiskey.

"Enthral me." He says, nudging his hand forward a little. I swerve my head in the direction of his fingers, which points at the pole at the corner of the room.

My teeth swallow a portion of my lower lip and I return my stare to him.

"Shall I make a request?" I ask, keeping my tone husky.

The man nods.

I keep my chin up, maintaining an elegant smile with a lustrous look. "Take off your mask. I want to see the face of the one I'll dance for."

His eyes are on me. I can't tell if he'll do as I requested, but there's something about his domineering posture that leaves me choked. The aura in the room is a mix of lust and- tension; for some reason I can't understand.

His hand trails up to his face and he swallows the remnants in his glass. My eyes fixated on the sway of his throat as the liquid drowns in. And his lips.

Seeing it shimmer despite the dull, purple lighting in here really makes my pussy pool.

"Only if you do it for me." He says, a smirk across his lips.

"Would be my pleasure." I lower my head in acceptance and make my way to him, keeping my eyes on his. His eyes, on the other hand, are plastered to my legs.

I place my seven inch heels on the chair, between his wide open legs. I'm not putting on any underwear. I didn't plan to depending on my client. He has no idea how fascinating it is to have him. I run my hand lower down my leg and widen my leg a bit, giving him a view of my pussy hidden in the darkness of my outfit.

His head is directly in front of my core. Just inches apart.

I lean my torso forward and let my hands dangle around his face without touching him, keeping my tits in good sight. My finger tips slowly make their way to the back of his head and I undo the knot of the mask around his face.

A soft gasp leave my lips the moment I take the mask off. He's handsome.

Fuck.

If I thought he was hot before, he just became a million times more because he looks way better in person. Although I met him in person.

I throw the mask to the ground and it makes a gentle thud on the floor. Now I take my heeled foot away from his groin with a little tease of the tip of my shoe grinding against his zipper.

My body moves backwards in gentle steps without averting my gaze away from him. I feel my back clash into something then move my hands behind to feel it. It's the pole. I clutch my palm around it. A low tune starts to blare in the room.

This is where I begin.

I swing my body around once, then stop, facing him. My legs straighten out, forming an angle on the ground and I bend my upper body lower, letting my fingers rest on my skin from the tip of my heel, to my bare thighs. I circle my thigh with my hand and roll my torso while attempting to stand straight and my hair swings along then lands on my back and shoulder.

I meet his gaze. His eyes are on me. Not once did he take them off. This makes my stomach churn.

If anyone ever told me I'd be dancing to please a man I'm actually interested in pleasing tonight, I wouldn't have believed but look at me, drooling over, standing one on one with somebody I made eye contact with and met tonight for the first time.

On my last day. I don't know if I should count this as a curse or a blessing.

Enjoying the fact that his eyes are now locked with mine, and he's looking at me with lust in his drunken state and actually bet on having me pushes me to put more effort with my body movements.

I tighten my grip on the pole and swing my body up. I let my form hump on the pole while in the air. My head faces the floor while I do this. Now my leg traps the pole between it.

I usually found it disgusting how men wagered and gnashed their teeth with hunger at women but with him it's not disgusting. It's the hottest thing happening here tonight. Knowing he bid higher than any man that was present in that room does things to my body.

He's making me move in ways I never thought I would on this pole. And I love it.

My eyes drift to the side and I tilt my head up, encircling the pole between my thigh and limb. I can sell my soul just to ensure we end up getting sweaty together tonight. I want those hands to touch my skin. I wonder what those hands will do to me when I allow it.

With my permission.

I want him to touch me. Way more than the rules allow him to. Because tonight, I won't follow any rules.

Fuck them. I'll be out of this place tonight anyway because I'll sign in my resignation letter and quit.

- CAMERON -

I am drunk. So fucking drunk that every cell in my body is working against me. Yet she gives my eyes clarity.

I pour myself another glass of whiskey, and gulp some down my throat, pushing myself to my limit. I want to know how fast it can break me and she mould my eyes.

Blink? I dare not. Not even if dust lands in my eyes.

Not when her legs move as they do and her body curls as it does.

Not when every bit of my body begs to push her on that bed and fuck her. I want to savour every bit of her moving her body for me.

The big question I should ask is, why the fuck is there a bed here if I'm not fucking allowed to touch her?

What's the fucking point?

Having someone tempt you better than a succubus only to end up with a hard dick?

My tongue plays with the rim of the tumbler, feasting on her form. She crawls her way to me. Her body emerges between my legs. Breasts rubbing my groin. "Is something the matter?" Cleopatra asks. A throaty laugh echoes after. She leans her body up, pressing her figure against me. Teasing my body with hers.

"You look so serious. Why?" Her body falls down my length and her legs are up to my face. She widens them. This lady is not putting on underwear. She knows what she's doing and how much it affects me.

I can't help but grin at the whims of this sultry vixen. Her legs wrap around my face without coming in contact. My breath hitches. I want that in my mouth. I want to mouth fuck her so badly till she squirts in my mouth.

My brow raises. Is she a squirter? I want to find out.

Her body curls forward and she turns to look at me.

I hold my tumbler to my mouth. My restraint is hanging on a thread. A very thin one. "Do I not arouse you?" She asks, swaying her body on mine like a worm.

A dark chuckle leaves my lips. "Do you want to know the answer to that?"

Cleopatra suspends her body in front of me. Her promiscuous looking breasts right on my cock. She must feel my boner.

Her hand reaches up to take my glass. I free my hand and let her have it. She tilts her head up for me to see and drinks my whiskey. A satisfied exhale escapes her lips. "I was thirsty." She returns the tumbler to me. Her tongue sneaks out her mouth and licks her lips. "There's more my throat can swallow." She winks at me.

She didn't answer my question.

That only keeps me intrigued.

Cleopatra steps back. Something drops on the floor as she does. It's the outer layer of her garment. I want to stand but stop myself. If I do, only God knows what I'll do next.

Her hand laces up her skin as she slowly undresses herself.

"I'd rather do it myself." I object, stopping her half way. "I'm permitted, aren't I?"

If there was a hint of hesitation in her body, I would've held back but there is none. She wants me to.

So I'm not the only one imagining lewd things. Good.

"Depends on how you ask me again." She grins. I swear, I saw her eyes sparkle as she said that. She's not dancing anymore and I love how that gives my eyes the opportunity to soak in all of her presence.

"May I strip you off your clothes? If you'd let me." I ask politely. Hardly politely. My voice is laced with desire.

"Try again."

The end of my lips curls. But of course. I paid to be with her but she won't let me have her that easily, right?

I stand. “ Five seconds." I utter, taking a step closer. She chins up and raises a brow, anticipation in what I'd say next written all over her face. "That’s all you have to take them off before I tear them off your body, princess."

Her lips spread slightly ajar and her eyes drop. She maintains her composure immediately. Cleopatra's body drops to the ground, knees spread apart and hands fastened to her back. She arches her neck to the side. "Undress me." Her voice a husky purr.

From this point, she looks so vulnerable yet so beautiful.

Fuck. I can feel the painful twinge surging to my dick again.

I squat in front of her. Her scent is mesmerising. "How far can my fingers waver?"

She looks up at me. "As far as you want."

"You're not scared of what I'll do to you?" I ask, trailing my hand up her thighs. My finger lands on her pussy lips. I tap gently and she gasps in response. "Not worried I'd do something you don't want?" I whisper. My hand is fondling the net vest on her stomach. My finger enjoys how it feels in my hand.

Her body is so soft.

"Thinking you have the chance to have your way with me against my will is flawed." She states. Her voice, though submissive, carries power.

She moves her torso back, using her hands to support her upper body suspended in the air.

"Your hands are on me only because I want them to." The subtle saltiness in her voice does things to me. Fuck. This woman can harass me yet I'd be stricken with pleasure. She has the voice that makes a drunk man regain his clarity, and a sober man, drunk. "The moment I don't, you can't touch me." She says, eyes locked in mine.

I'm being slow. Not because I don't want to rid her of her clothes, but because I have morals. As much as I want this woman taking my dick, I want her to want it too. I won't do anything she doesn't want. Although she made that clear.

God, how I love a woman that can take you on your shit.

My hands fasten on the hem of her clothes and I rip.

Cleopatra whimpers. She's panting heavily. I've never seen someone get so loud about her outfit being ripped. My eyes falls on her body, admiring every inch of her. That's when I notice the location of the net fabric.

My eyes bulges. How I did not notice this before amazes me. Kegel balls. Her net fabric supports kegel balls.

So there was an intention behind not wearing underwear after all.

"Take it out." She pants. "I want you to."

I reach my hand lower, ripping the net, sleeveless top off her body completely. Now my sight is on the thread holding the balls. I clasp it between two fingers and pull it out slowly.

It is my turn to be breathless. I'm fucking drunk so imagine how intensified whatever I'm feeling is.

Drenched in her essence are the balls, hanging loosely on my finger. I open my mouth and dip them in, sucking it like it's the sweetest thing I've had tonight.

The sweetest thing will be her.

Her facial expression watching me says it all. She did not expect that.

Now Cleopatra is kneeling on the ground in front of me, nearly naked. The only thing keeping her from that, being the silver nipple covers.

"You're beautiful." Leaves my lips before I could even think about it.

"I know." She utters, almost like she's trying to contend with me on purpose. I get up. I can't tell if stripping is part of the show or not. My eyes wander from the net top in my hand to the thicker, netty, overly revealing, see through coat laying on the ground.

Her outfit is completely ruined. I never thought her taking her outer garment earlier was a good thing because I'd hate to even conceive the thought of her walking out of here naked, under the preying eyes of men.

Although, I shouldn't care. It's her job.

"You're quite charming yourself." Cleopatra says and before I knew it, my body falls backwards and lands on the sofa. She pushed me. Still shocked by the swift movement, I froze for a second.

Cleopatra is standing in front of me. Her knee at the junction of my thighs as she presses her body on mine trapping me between her body and the sofa. "Do I really have to say it?" She asks, holding my bottle of whiskey. Cleopatra drinks directly from the bottle and faces me. Our faces are just inches apart. "I want you to fuck me." Her other hand manoeuvres down my body till it stops between my legs. She slowly undoes my belt and zipper. Now her hands stroke my cock. "Hard." She adds, still stroking my length. "As much as you want to. Make me scream." A gasp rattles out her lips.

'Fuck, you're huge!' Echoes in my ears as a gentle hum as she whispers. Bold of her to assume I didn't hear that.

I take my bottle from this woman and close my mouth where her lips once tainted.

Champagne immediately stings my tongue. She probably had some before coming here.

I feel her weight slowly lift up my thighs.

I grab her waist and pull her to me roughly. "Where do you think you're going?" My gaze darkens.

All I wanted was her consent. Now I have it. I'll do to her body as I wish.