does he own?”
“He’s kind of diversified—a club, the bar and a coffee shop. He’s looking into opening another club now, but it’s a huge investment of time and money. He was talking about not having a good concept yet either. This is where his genius is, you know. I would just convert a warehouse, put in speakers and call it something dumb. He’ll have the whole thing worked out, three hundred sixty degrees.”
“So are we going to his club tonight?”
“No.” He paused. “Nest is another club in town, good for dancing.”
“God, now that I know him, I feel like it’s kinda rude not to go to his place.”
“No, he gets it. It’s, well, like I was saying. It has a concept and it is for a specific group of people. He knows I’d never take a first date there. Hell, he doesn’t even go that often anymore.”
“Why? Is it, like, a total cowboy bar, real country or something else, like real gangster?”
“No it’s just…very…intense, like lots of sex in your face.”
“A strip club?”
“No.” He smiled. “No one is getting paid to get naked, but they might get naked anyway. The rules are very strict, but essentially come down to anything is okay as long as everyone involved is legal and is consenting.”
I wasn’t really sure what to make of that, but I needed to shift my ass against the seat. “Wait…you wouldn’t take a first date there? But maybe a second? Do you go there a lot?”
He laughed out loud at that as he pulled up to the valet at a huge club with a line outside. The valet opened the door for me and Xander was there handing off his keys as I stepped out. He took my hand and walked up to the bouncer who smiled and shook his hand, then opened the door for us, letting us skip the line. Apparently, he was well-known here. The unpleasant thought that he must be here often with a lot of dates crossed my mind, but then we were through the second set of doors and the music was loud, so loud that I lost my thoughts and remembered the feeling—the bass shaking my lungs, reverberating within my rib cage, and the only feeling being this moment, the music, the lights and how much I wanted to move.
He still had my hand and was navigating through the crowd to a roped off area in the back. A hostess saw him and smiled broadly, waving us over. She pulled back the rope to the VIP section and they exchanged brief pleasantries that I couldn’t hear over the music. We sat on a low, plush couch with a few small side tables arranged around it and she came back with drinks, a mojito for me again, plus a bottle of beer for him.
Once we were settled, he dropped his hand between us and touched my leg, hooking his index and ring fingers under the hem of my dress, not pulling it up or reaching, just lightly stroking my thigh with his fingers. I wanted him to push my skirt up and touch me more, harder. Wanted wasn’t even strong enough of a word. It was overwhelming how much I wanted him, but there was something that held me back from taking the next step, from grabbing him and straddling his lap. At the thought of riding him, a small gush of moisture dampened my barely there thong. A beat or two later, I swear he took a deep breath in through his nose, like he could smell me, smell how much I wanted to get fucked tonight.
The DJ started blending the beat into another song and Xander pulled his hand away. He slipped his hand behind me, touching the small of my back. He leaned into me, voice firm, easily heard over the music, “Okay, little girl, get up, get out there. I have been thinking about your body moving in that dress since I picked you up.”
“Come with me,” I asked him, feeling self-conscious.
He was starting to shake his head, when Christy came up, yelling, “Hey, girl, let’s go!” She pulled me up, out of his reach and out to the dance floor.
Chapter Seven
Xander
Far East Project—Featuring Stereotypes, Girls on the Dancefloor
Christy pulled Leda to
“He’s kind of diversified—a club, the bar and a coffee shop. He’s looking into opening another club now, but it’s a huge investment of time and money. He was talking about not having a good concept yet either. This is where his genius is, you know. I would just convert a warehouse, put in speakers and call it something dumb. He’ll have the whole thing worked out, three hundred sixty degrees.”
“So are we going to his club tonight?”
“No.” He paused. “Nest is another club in town, good for dancing.”
“God, now that I know him, I feel like it’s kinda rude not to go to his place.”
“No, he gets it. It’s, well, like I was saying. It has a concept and it is for a specific group of people. He knows I’d never take a first date there. Hell, he doesn’t even go that often anymore.”
“Why? Is it, like, a total cowboy bar, real country or something else, like real gangster?”
“No it’s just…very…intense, like lots of sex in your face.”
“A strip club?”
“No.” He smiled. “No one is getting paid to get naked, but they might get naked anyway. The rules are very strict, but essentially come down to anything is okay as long as everyone involved is legal and is consenting.”
I wasn’t really sure what to make of that, but I needed to shift my ass against the seat. “Wait…you wouldn’t take a first date there? But maybe a second? Do you go there a lot?”
He laughed out loud at that as he pulled up to the valet at a huge club with a line outside. The valet opened the door for me and Xander was there handing off his keys as I stepped out. He took my hand and walked up to the bouncer who smiled and shook his hand, then opened the door for us, letting us skip the line. Apparently, he was well-known here. The unpleasant thought that he must be here often with a lot of dates crossed my mind, but then we were through the second set of doors and the music was loud, so loud that I lost my thoughts and remembered the feeling—the bass shaking my lungs, reverberating within my rib cage, and the only feeling being this moment, the music, the lights and how much I wanted to move.
He still had my hand and was navigating through the crowd to a roped off area in the back. A hostess saw him and smiled broadly, waving us over. She pulled back the rope to the VIP section and they exchanged brief pleasantries that I couldn’t hear over the music. We sat on a low, plush couch with a few small side tables arranged around it and she came back with drinks, a mojito for me again, plus a bottle of beer for him.
Once we were settled, he dropped his hand between us and touched my leg, hooking his index and ring fingers under the hem of my dress, not pulling it up or reaching, just lightly stroking my thigh with his fingers. I wanted him to push my skirt up and touch me more, harder. Wanted wasn’t even strong enough of a word. It was overwhelming how much I wanted him, but there was something that held me back from taking the next step, from grabbing him and straddling his lap. At the thought of riding him, a small gush of moisture dampened my barely there thong. A beat or two later, I swear he took a deep breath in through his nose, like he could smell me, smell how much I wanted to get fucked tonight.
The DJ started blending the beat into another song and Xander pulled his hand away. He slipped his hand behind me, touching the small of my back. He leaned into me, voice firm, easily heard over the music, “Okay, little girl, get up, get out there. I have been thinking about your body moving in that dress since I picked you up.”
“Come with me,” I asked him, feeling self-conscious.
He was starting to shake his head, when Christy came up, yelling, “Hey, girl, let’s go!” She pulled me up, out of his reach and out to the dance floor.
Chapter Seven
Xander
Far East Project—Featuring Stereotypes, Girls on the Dancefloor
Christy pulled Leda to
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