Impossible Is Nothing (An Iggy Azalea/Eminem Fan Fiction)

Chapter 16: Beg For It

Brittany's P.O.V.

This night had been a pretty average work night, doing my same routine as usual.

Dancing on stage, giving lap dances to men, having small conversations with them, making money, and having fun. I was a little more into it because I wanted to be. Because I could. The freedom of this felt grand.

I'd also chill with Sue (or her stripper name "Sunny") the time I wasn't by myself. Some of the other girls, as well, which included Porsche, Chastity, Asia, Alexus, Cherry, Jasmine, and others. We'd hang out together or in groups. We were everywhere and doing everything, but we had to abide by the house rules, of course. There were boundaries and set regulations. Some of the those included, basically, not to suck dick. Or, go home with anybody. But aside from that, we were basically able to go around and do as we please.

It was after my break (after the time I spent with the girls) when I was notified that a private dance was requested for me in one of the exclusive rooms in the back. I got them kind of often—maybe about ten requests a night. So I honestly didn't think this was going to be a big deal.

That was until I stepped inside the room.

I had put on something alluring: cute little panties and this striking bra piece. I even had on bunny ears and a tiny bunny tail. It was adorable. And why shouldn't I dress up and prep myself nice for my customer? I'll admit, these private dances were expensive. I wanted them to get their money's worth.

That was when I found out the person who requested the dance was none other than fucking Marshall himself. What in the world was he doing here?

I gave him the dirtiest, angriest look my face could muster when we came across the other. I was close to losing it, giving him an earful, and storming out of the room furiously; but again, the rules. I couldn't say "No" or walk out. A paid customer had already paid in full. Clever move, Marshall... but you made the wrong move.

Marshall, sitting comfortably on the couch in the back, was just looking at me with this hurt facial expression. Well, not so "comfortably" anymore since I came into the room and he saw my reaction to this. He was itching to get up, mouth open, ready to speak—but that was when I had already reached him, shoving him back down on the seat. I crossed my arms, standing over him as I awaited an explanation for this.

"Brit," he started to speak, his gaze glued to me. I think he liked my little outfit was what it was. But he stuck to expressing what he came here tonight to say, going on. "The reason I'm here is because I've been trying to get a hold of you for a while now. I had no other choice to get in contact with you, I had to show up. I don't fucking know," he growled.

All I did was roll my eyes at him, letting out an irritated groan.

Marshall tried his best to ignore this, continuing up with his apology. "Anyway, I want to say I'm sorry for what I did back there. I know you told me to make better decisions. I didn't know it would lead to that. We both wasn't thinking. I thought offering my mushrooms to her would make the party more dope, you get me? Guess it went and did the opposite."

Well, no shit.

"I'm taking a break—a long ass break—off them. I wanted to let you know. Probably not seeing Sue or anybody for a while, and I promise that. Proof and I had been talking and he really opened my eyes to a lot of things. You mean a lot to me and I just didn't want to lose what we had over that dumb bullshit. We had something close, something special. And I've just always wanted to help you out and do something for you, because you've helped me out with a lot of things. I didn't want to seem like a bum. Uh, and," he drifted off. "...yeah."

I got bored by this. I let out an obvious, exaggerated yawn. A song began playing on the speakers in the room—a damn Boyz II Men one. However, I used that to my advantage. I took a few steps towards him, Marshall just staring. He was probably thinking I was going over there to beat him up. Which I should've, you know? Instead, I got myself situated on him and began giving him a lap dance.

Marshall was completely tense at first. He didn't know what to make of this which only made me laugh so hard on the inside. I just continued moving my body, doing just what my customer paid me to do. Maybe to tease him around a little, too. But nothing else.

He was losing himself in the moment. He was most obviously turned on by my seductive dancing (grinding, it was, basically) on top of him the whole time. It was only getting more dirty. And how Marshall was trying to resist it couldn't be hidden anymore.

He tried to act unbothered about it, but it wasn't working for me. I could see past that. He concluded his words—at least he tried to. "The annual battle is next Saturday at The Shop... it's one of the biggest battles and I'm hoping you'll come out and show your support since it's important to me," his voice quieted down, coming to a halt. After he did that, I glanced at him. Droplets of sweat had formed on his forehead, as his focus was shifted to my movement of my hips, thighs, and cooch against his crotch. That's when he lost.

Not knowing what to do, it's like his body acted without his brain thinking first. His hands made a move to clutch onto my hips. But before he did, I smacked him hard. "No touching," I informed, those being the first and only words I said to him.

Marshall withdrew his hands quick, holding every ounce of himself back from tackling me on the spot. I kept going, just to play around and tease him. On the outside, I appeared a cold, heartless bitch. On the inside, I wanted to forgive him bad and make up. But don't think I'm going with the latter... I'm not that easy.

Next couple of minutes later, it got to a point we were both dry humping against each other. We were moving in sync, bodies rubbing. The friction and the heat were unbearable. I could only imagine what he thought of this: us alone, with the slow paced music playing around us. Marshall had tried again, placing his hands on my booty. Sigh. Boys will be boys. Funny thing, I allowed him this time. 

This kept up for a while. After he knew he got away with the "no touching" rule, Marshall tried nuzzling in to snog me; but I just turned away or backed off from him succeeding at it. Instead, he was able to bring himself in to lay kisses on my neck. I let my head fall back, enjoying the sensation. Damn, I think I might've been losing control.

We both were breathing heavily, panting, as we stared at each other with lust-filled eyes. Our bodies were still going at it—more than they ever were before. Clothes still on, nothing but pure grinding. We were close to our peak and the song was close to being over. Time was almost up.

Then, Marshall at that instant stopped with his side of the movement. His breathing hitched, lips apart, and his eyes squinted tightly shut for a mere second. As he opened his eyes again to meet up with mine, a fair blush covered his cheeks. Is that what I think just happened? Wowzers, think he made a mess in his trousers.

My deed here was done; the song was over. I slowly got off him, fixing myself. "Time's up," I purred.

Marshall shifted a little bit uncomfortably. He still had that dejected, broken look on his face. He was confused, awkward, and maybe a little bit embarrassed. Before I was able to leave the room, to move on to the next customer and the next after that, Marshall attempted to speak. "...will you make it?" he choked out.

I was over it. I only tossed my hair back, continuing to strut out of the room. Wanting me to support him at one of the "final" battles? Let's see how I'll feel by next week.

I walked out, smirking at him as I watched him out the corner of my eye, leaving his unsatisfied self precisely like that.