Executive Engagement

“Well, hello there, Your Highness,” I turn my head back as a Russian looking stripper enters the room, wearing only a black lace thong and a pearly bra. She smiles at me, and asks, “I saw you coming upstairs and I thought you might…want a little company. May I…?”

“Be my guest,” I say, leaning back against the leather couch as she walks towards me. It’s not the first time. Every fucking girl here wants a piece of me. They all want my fucking cock. At least once they want the eleven inches of His Royal Highness inside of them. That’s why they come to work here. Today must be her turn. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Marta,” she replies with a lascivious smile.

I take one hard look at her: I’ve seen her around a few times, but never had the time for a one-on-one with her.

She hits the switch on the wall and dims the lights; in an instant, she’s on the couch, sitting on top of me. I’m like fucking honey to strippers - they all want to try Prince Sin firsthand. Not that I’m complaining.

Before I can say a thing, she’s already grabbing at my crotch, massaging it with her open hand. Boiling blood flows down to it and in an instant my raging erection is already pushing against her hand. She starts swaying her hips back and forth, grinding against me as I grab at her ass.

“I want you to fuck me…” She whispers against my ear, already unbuttoning my jeans with quick experienced fingers. In half a second, she pulls my cock out and starts to stroke it with quick flicks of her wrist. Like a fucking magician, she makes a condom wrapper appear on her fingers. She opens the wrapper and slides the condom down my length with a grin on her face.

She asked nicely, so I guess I have to fucking oblige - I push her thong to the side and turn her over before grabbing her ass cheeks and pushing her down. My cock slides inside her in a flash, a long moan pouring out of her lips. She starts jumping up and down on my cock, clawing at my chest with her long fingernails.

“My God…” She moans. “You’re… huge.” I guess she didn’t believe the rumors, or watch the television, since she sounds so fucking surprised. Well, all the better for her.

I thrust at her as hard as I can, my eyes wandering down to the dance floor below past Marta. Nothing better than fucking a tight

pussy while you can still appreciate an army of perfect strippers down on the stage.

My thrusts have her screaming her head off. Her body quivers and her pussy tightens around my cock as her whole body starts to tremble in ecstasy.

Great. She’s cumming. I hope she doesn’t stop because I’m still too far away from my own fucking climax.

That’s when I see her. There’s a woman I’ve never seen before among the other strippers - she’s probably one of the new girls, but there’s something in her that makes me unable to look away. I’m not sure if it’s the innocent look on her face or the perfect way she moves across the floor.

I grit my teeth harder, grabbing the stripper and holding her down as my cock starts to spasm violently. I’m not ready to cum yet. I want to watch this girl on stage dance. But just looking at her is doing it for me like nothing else. I can feel my balls begin to fucking tighten up. I don’t want to lose myself so quick.

I slow down my thrusts and feel myself start to get control back. Marta looks back at me. “Why’d you slow down, Sire?” she asks.

But I’m not paying attention to Marta. My eyes are focused on the main stage. At the beautiful woman who’s dancing. I’m timing my strokes to her moves. She looks up at the private room and for a second I think she can see through the one-sided mirrors.

Fuck.

Alicia

Okay, can I just say for my own self-defense that when Samantha Scar, the District Attorney for New York State walked into the offices of The News of the Times, I never really thought that sitting in on the meeting would lead me to getting ready to go on stage at a strip club.

I mean, come on, hello, can we say surreal? This just happens to be the day that I just caught my asshole boyfriend, sorry ex-boyfriend, cheating on me.

But actually, you know, I've got to be honest with you. If I can't be honest with you, there's really no point in this, is there? :)

And if I'm being honest with you, the truth is that I'm really not that sad because of Jake anymore. There's only one thought going through my head right now.

Revenge. Not on Jake. But on Derrick Blaine.

Derrick is the reason why Jake is the way he is. People like Jake look up to people like Derrick. He makes using and losing women look sexy and cool. He made tormenting me look like the popular thing to do.

So when Samantha walked in, I was all ears. I was sitting in Mike’s office. He had also invited Danielle Marlowe, the CEO of the paper to join us.

"We're going to take that man down," the District Attorney said. "And this paper is going to help me do just that."

I was curious at first how this was going to happen, but she just looked at me. "You're the reporter that grew up in St. Livy, right?" she asked. I nodded with a startled expression. She'd done her homework. "Alicia Bayer, right?"

I nodded again, too surprised to even speak.

“Alicia is one of our smartest up-and-coming employees," Mike said. "She regularly writes on Page Eight."