A Stripper and a Sweetheart

2 | Lascivious

Victor

She's the first thing I see.

We enter the club on Friday night, almost a week after Gabe turned 21 on Sunday. Mr B told us all that we don't have to do this mission - any one of us could say no to this and our whole family would back out. No one would hold it against us. But none of us are willing to let these girls go through what they're being forced into any more, no matter how uncomfortable this assignment might make us.

The owner, James Assa, could not have been more on the nose when he named the brick-front club 'Lascivious'. It even has those Vegas style 'X's flashing above the neon club sign, the tacky silhouette stickers of girls in seductive poses plastered over the windows.

We're here to get a feel of what it's like on a regular night. How it runs, the type of clients that visit, the attitudes of the staff and the patrons - typical recon.

Obviously I notice the two stages on opposite sides of the room. I notice the crowd of females surrounding the stage with an already half-naked man dancing and flashing them winks. I notice the long mahogany bar, the glass shelves stacked high with various alcohol bottles behind it, the red-cushioned stools in front of it, the gaggle of men crowding around the other stage.

But she's the first thing I truly see.

The girl these men are crowding around. She doesn't look like she could be much older than us - definitely in her early twenties. I glance around to my brothers and it's clear that their attentions are focused on her as well. How could they not be? She's breath-taking.

All she's wearing is a short white doctor's coat and six inch stilettos as she dances to Bad Medicine by Bon Jovi. It's not a song I would expect someone to be able to dance to like this - but God she makes it work. A stethoscope rests around her neck and the coat's opened enough at the top that I can see hints of the gold lace trim of her bra. Sean looks like he's on the verge of hyperventilation he's so awe-struck.

The girl's light-blonde hair is piled up in a cute messy bun, but it looks so much sexier when she pulls on a pin and the soft-looking strands tumble down to just past her shoulders in cascading waves. I think I hear Gabriel actually whimper the word 'fuck'.

She has high cheekbones and a tiny little button nose, upturned just the slightest bit. Long dark blonde lashes do nothing to hide the most vibrant green eyes I've ever seen in my life - the exact color of Spring grass after heavy rain. The girl makes eye contact with me and it's as if all the breath is knocked out of my body. My heart skips several beats. My knees go weak. Her spring rain eyes connect with mine and bowl me over.

Like she was planning it - her soft pink lips tilt up into a heart-stopping smile right when the chorus hits and she drops the coat - revealing an hourglass frame wrapped in matching gold bra and panties.

I feel like I'm panting as she slides her slender legs around the pole, running a hand down her ample chest and flat stomach to graze over the juncture between her thighs. She sinks her teeth into that bottom lip and fuck it I'm done for.

The blonde goddess pulls herself up the pole and spins back down, somehow half upside down and gives everyone a spectacular view of her cleavage. I'm struck still as she dances. There's a beauty in it that prompts devotion. A melody to her every movement that leaves me stunned and speechless. I've seen professional dancers move with less grace than this girl has.

The crowd surrounding her are going wild, hollering, whistling, lusting. I don't blame them at all - to call her stunning would be to call Sean intelligent. A gross understatement. I do feel irrationally jealous and angry though, that these men get to see her like this. That it's not just me, or just me and my brothers.