That Ass Is Mine

This made her stop. “I don’t believe you.”

“You should. Cherry has been after me a long time. She now knows if she keeps on trying the shit she pulled tonight, she’s out on her ass. I broke my rules for you, Talia. Believe me or not, you’re not pushing me away. Your ass belongs to me, and you make sure all of those men out there are aware of it. You’re off the market.”

****

“Your ass belongs to me.”

“You’re off the market.”

Those two statements wouldn’t leave Talia’s mind, even as they cleaned up together. The rest of the strippers and workers had already left. Every now and then, she’d stop wiping something down to glance over toward Sarge, who mopped the floor. His bar had several reviews online and it made her smile when she saw one complimented his clean floors. It was kind of funny that a bar with strippers had been raved about because of their floors. After being in his house last night into this morning, she’d started to see a side to Sarge she hadn’t realized.

He liked things clean.

His kitchen was neat and she’d seen inside his cupboards and his fridge. Everything was organized by date of expiration.

Did this go back to something he experienced as a child? She didn’t know for sure, but either way, she wanted to learn more about him.

He’d been right about her.

Hearing Cherry come on to him, she’d been jealous. There was no way she could compete with Cherry.

“You do know I had no intention of taking his number,” she said.

Sarge put the mop into the bucket and looked up. “I know.”

“Then why did you get so angry?”

“I don’t share, Talia. You’re mine until I say otherwise.”

Now there went her dream of his statements from earlier meaning something. She had an expiration date as well.

She finished wiping up the glasses and lifted the covers from the floor that had been used to cover the beer that Sarge had brought up to her.

When she came back, she heard soft music playing in the bar. Sarge was seated in a chair and he’d turned on the lights to one of the poles.

“Come here, Talia.”

“I don’t know how to strip.”

“Baby, you’re not auditioning for anyone but me.”

“I…” She looked toward the pole and shook her head.

“You’re telling me no?” he asked.

“I don’t think I should do that.” She was a terrible dancer.

He held out his hand and she went straight to him. “All I’d like you to do is dance for me. There are no strings. Just music.”

“If I dance for you, would you dance for me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then I’ll dance for you.”

She looked up at the pole. It wasn’t dangerous or scary. She wore sneakers.

“Okay, fine. You did clean this, though, right?” she asked. Cherry had once told her how turned on she got having a room full of men watching her. The last thing she wanted to do was to touch whatever Cherry had.

The thought alone was enough to make her feel a little sick.

“You know I always clean everything that’s touched. Stop stressing.” He winked at her.

She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the pole.

The music changed from a soft classical song to something slow, seductive. Closing her eyes, she allowed the flow of the music to wash over her, imagining she was anywhere but in the strip club.

What she wanted was for Sarge to never want any of his other women at all. She wanted to be his everything.

Spinning around, she slid her back down the pole and opened her eyes.

He’d turned the lights down on the stage. It was a soft hue, and she could see him. His gaze was on her as she stood up.

Holding the pole, she swung around, tempted to give him a show.

Could she do it?

She wore a pair of jeans and a shirt. Not exactly tempting, but she thought about Cherry this evening. The stripper had told her on more than one occasion that she’d love to fuck Sarge. She believed him when he said he hadn’t been with any other women because Cherry had told her so many times before.

He didn’t want anyone else, yet he’d taken her.

With her back turned to him and using the sway of her hips, she unbuttoned her shirt, quickly.

Her hands shook. There was no way this was sensual.

She tried, and as she slid her shirt down, she heard him groan. His pleasured sounds encouraged her.

She dropped the shirt to the floor and spun to face him. The black lace bra she wore was the sexiest piece of underwear she owned. Turned toward him, she unbuttoned her jeans and turned, swaying her hips from side to side.

This wasn’t a good show. Inside, she cringed at how she must look.

Keep going. You’re doing this for him.

“Show me that ass,” he said.