Stories From The 6 Train

A sexy little gasp escapes her lips as our bodies nearly touch, and that sounds nearly makes me come unhinged. I grind my teeth together and clench my fingers around the fluffy white towel that is sitting on the counter.

And I ought to be given a fucking medal of honor. Because I take the towel and wrap it around her, covering up my one and only glimpse of that perfect body. Wishing for just a minute that I wasn’t a good guy. That I could turn her around and drive my cock inside deep her and fuck her against the wall until she screams my name and gushes all over me.

But I am a good guy. So I step back and give her room to pass. But not a lot. Because I’m only so good. I make sure she has to ease around me, brushing that body that’s meant for fucking against me. And I don’t bother looking away as she scurries down the hall, turning once to look at me over her shoulder, her eyes huge and unreadable, before she disappears into her room.

I stride to my own room, throwing the door shut behind me and whipping out my cock in seconds, groaning as I wrap my hand around it and start tugging furiously. I come hard and fast, but it’s not enough. Now that I’ve seen her like that with her perfect tits and pussy begging to be fucked, I don’t know that it can be enough.

Which is why an hour later, after she’s headed off to work, I find myself on the train, headed to her club. Just so I can feed this gnawing need to be near her. To have my eyes on her in that skimpy little waitress uniform while she prances around the club in those fuck-me heels. It’s not nearly enough. But right now, I’ll take what I can get.

Whitney

I’m a nervous wreck. I’m about to lose my cool. I don’t even know if I can get out on that stage and do this. Not after what happened at home.

Holy shit, the way Dax’s eyes scraped over my body, I could practically feel it. My body responded as if he were actually touching me, rather than just eye-fucking me. And that’s exactly what it felt like, despite everything that I’ve told myself—that I continue to tell myself. He’s not interested in me like that.

But his body told an entirely different story. There was no missing that hard-on. It was freaking huge outlined against his jeans, begging me to reach out and touch it.

I did that. I made him hard.

That knowledge is enough to make me wet all over again. Almost as wet as I was when I hid in my room and finger-fucked myself after he stared at me like that. Wishing the whole time it was hi

s cock inside me.

I shiver, my whole body tingling with desire.

“Whitney, you’re up in five,” the backstage manager calls into the dressing room, disappearing just as fast.

I look in the mirror, gathering my courage. I don’t look too different than I do most nights. Same over the top makeup and wavy hair trailing down my back. The only thing that’s different is that I’m wearing a bit more clothes than normal. Something that will change real fast once I’m up onstage.

I take a deep breath. This is what I want. I’ve been hoping to get a job stripping since I first started at this club. The pay is so much better. Ridiculously better. And I need to save as much as I can if I want to start my own business eventually. This will get me there. That’s what I have to focus on when I go out there.

I stand and make my way to the edge of the stage, staying hidden in the shadows. This is right where Poppy was standing last night after she got ripped from the stage by that guy—Dax’s business partner. I saw the way he looked at her. I wish a guy would look at me like that.

Then I realize, that’s an awful lot like the way Dax was looking at me earlier. Possessive. Greedy. Barely contained restraint all over his face.

My breath comes a little faster, nerves with what I’m about to do mixing with the way thoughts of him make me feel.

That’s what I’ll focus on while I’m out on the stage. Dax. The way he looked at me like he actually desires me. The way his body responded to my naked one. The power and confidence that I felt because of that look. I try to channel that same feeling, letting myself go back to that place where that one look made me so hot and needy that all I wanted was for him to fuck me.

That’s what I need right now. And when it’s my turn and I step out into the blinding lights pointed at the stage, all I feel is sexy. Desired. Wanted.

All these men out there want me too. They want to see me take my clothes off. I make them feel things.

But the only thing that I think about as I begin moving to the music—peeling my costume off slowly, taunting the audience with just a peek here, then a little more there—is Dax. I pretend I’m stripping for him. Making him hard. Making him come.

I’m fully into the moment, lost in the fantasy playing out in my head. This job may be easier than I thought. All I have to do is pretend it’s just me and Dax.

When I walk off the stage and back toward the dressing room when I’m finished, I smile. Easy. That wasn’t complicated at all.

Pushing open the dressing room door, I reach for a robe and wrap it around myself. Grabbing a bottle of water, I turn back to the door when it creaks open again.

My eyes go wide.

Because things just got a whole lot more complicated.

My breath all rushes from my lungs as I say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Dax.”