100 Days

“You thinking of heading to Scorcher's again, Arsen?” he asks. He’s got a touch of fucking pity in his eyes. I can’t blame the guy as I nod.

“I got to find this girl,” I tell him. I’ve been searching high and fucking low for the stripper who was on the pole. I don’t know her name. I don’t know when she works. No one else at the club seems to either.

You want to know the bitch about the whole thing, though? It’s that same night I shared a fucking cab with her. I could've asked her for her name at least that night.

Don’t you knock me for being quiet that night. I’m sorry, it was just that my Dad had just died, okay? Sex wasn’t really going through my head at that point. This isn’t like some fucking plot hole or something you can mention in the review. You try getting news that your estranged family member has just hit the fucking bucket and you have to manage a sprawling multi-billion dollar sex empire and see if you remember the small details.

The car pulls up outside the strip club where I had first seen this gorgeous, blonde haired, perfectly curved woman ten fucking days ago. With a name like Scorcher's, I’m not sure what I'm going to find instead. But fuck it. If I come up empty, maybe I can fuck another stripper.

Way to look at the fucking bright side, eh?

I walk in, and instantly I’m greeted by the House Mom, Yasmine.

Yasmine’s been eyeing my fucking cock for years. She’s got to be the oldest one in this joint. And a fucking vet too, seeing girls come and go.

“You’re here for another one of my girls tonight, Arsen?” she asks me with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m looking for someone,” I tell her. Sure she’s been eyeing me, but I’ve never really given it up to her. Never really know why. Just the circumstances weren’t right probably.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Yasmine says as she turns around. I look at her ass flex and instantly I’m reminded of the blonde. Yasmine turns her head back to look at me. “To your office.”

I follow dutifully. Fuck it, if I don’t try to get my dick hard thinking about boning Yasmine. But it’s like every time I think about ass, or tits, or pussy, there’s just one image that keeps coming into my head.

Yeah, you fucking guessed it. The blonde goddess that I saw last week.

We get upstairs and the music is a bit more subdued.

Yasmine slides over to me, rapidly erasing any personal space that I may have had. But I don’t mind. I wrap my arms around her back and squeeze her ass.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Arsen,” she coos. “I knew you were coming tonight. You’ve been here every night. But ever since you had Sophie and Heather, you haven’t taken any other girl. I think I know why.”

Maybe this is going to be my lucky night. Does Yasmine know?

That explains it! She didn’t want to fuck me, but that’s what she had to make it look like to the other girls.

Jesus, I’ll never figure women out, you know?

“You’re done with those girls, aren’t you, baby?” Yasmine asks. I don’t know why, but I nod.

“You need someone who’s finally caught your eye, don’t you?” she asks. Fuck, she’s on the money.

“You need someone who will treat you just right,” Yasmine says.

She couldn’t be more clued in if she tried.

“You know where I can find her?” I ask and Yasmine smiles. Her hand comes to rest on my crotch.

Wait a fucking second!

“What do you mean, babe?” Yasmine asks, a glint in her eyes. But I’m too caught up and I don’t pay attention.

“I think she was what? 5’ 7”. Blonde hair. Body like a goddess. Last time I saw her was ten days ago, the night I had Sophie and Heather up here,” I tell Yasmine.

Stifling a look of disappointment, Yasmine backs off.

“That’s where I saw her for the first time, and then I actually shared a cab with her, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her much,” I say.

Yeah, I’m a fucking asshole because Yasmine looks completely fucking disappointed. I guess she really did want to fuck me tonight, huh?