Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 04

In an effort to cover up, Jen shifted her position, re-crossing her legs and pivoting slightly to the side; however, the movement only caused the robe to open further. If she stood up to adjust it, the robe would be gaped open, not even closed where the sash wrapped around her waist.

Aware of the silence within the room, Jen recognized the officer had stopped typing. Looking back at him she saw his stare had predictably moved from her legs to her chest, the half-opened robe drawing his attention.

She once again felt her skin redden, only no longer in embarrassment, but excitement. Her breath becoming shallow as she wondered what was wrong with her.

She did not want to make a big deal out of being exposed—she was a stripper after all—but she knew if she shifted any more the robe would open completely. Even so, she attempted to discretely reposition the folds and close the front; however, her movements only caused one half of it to slide off her shoulder.

At this point she gave up the battle. Short of standing up and blatantly retying the robe, she was going to have to live with knowing half her body was exposed to the officer. She recalled Dan's statement earlier—the cop had seen her in a lot less—so she let the folds go, resigned to her wardrobe malfunction.

Her mind pre-occupied with her clothing problem, the cop had to repeat his question, "So what are your personal feelings towards Mr. DeWight?"

Jen's attention immediately focused back to the cop, completely forgetting her attire. Looking at the cop, she realized he was no longer distracted by her attire, instead watching her face intently instead of her body.

"If you are asking if I am having a relationship with him, the answer is not only no, but hell no," she told the cop adamantly. "I love my fiancé; and before you go into the whole 'showing off my body to strangers' and 'how I can love him,' it is a job, nothing more. We need the money, and this is what I've done for years and the pay is good," she told him.

His eyes move down to her scantily clad body once more and she knew he was recalling last night as she continued, "And what happened last night? That was completely extenuating circumstances; I don't normally act that way, nor do I typically dance nude. It's just one more thing that bastard has manipulated me into," she told him in the attempt to explain herself.

"So you have no feelings for Charles DeWight?" the officer asked again.

Sensing his full attention on the question Jen spoke the truth, having nothing to hide about her feelings of Mr. DeWight.

"Of course I have feelings for him," she replied. "I despise him, I loathe him, I detest his existence. He has manipulated and coerced me into signing a contract I did not want to sign, has intimidated and pressured me into doing things I would not do under any normal circumstance, including what occurred between us last night, and the bastard pretty much drugged me and raped me," she told him honestly. "In fact, I wish him the swiftest and most expedient trip to Hell as possible," she said vehemently.

The detective was visibly taken aback by her candid reply.

"Do you wish to press charges?" he asked.

He did not seem surprised when Jen told him no. "It would just be my word against his," she explained, not wanting to go into the details of being filmed and even having seen the tape. She agreed with Mr. DeWight's observation about her appearing willing on the tape, too drugged to offer any resistance to his advances.

"Don't get me wrong," she told the officer, seeing his face go back to its stoic demeanor as if he had heard dozens of similar complaints from women too afraid to come forward. "I'm not afraid of the bastard. There just would be no case. Trust me, if there was anything I could do to see that asshole rot in a hole somewhere all his life I would jump at the chance," she told him passionately.

Surprisingly the cop smiled, his grin reminiscent of a child finding a prize in a box of cereal after opening hundreds of boxes and finding nothing.

"So you would not be upset to learn he is under investigation for various crimes?" the detective asked tentatively.

Jen noticed the line of questioning had once again changed. No longer being a rote series of questions about her work at the club, his questioning was more cautious, as if fishing for information. Jen wondered if he still thought she had some hidden relationship with Mr. DeWight as she told him truthfully, "Upset? No officer, I would not be surprised or upset, in fact I hope you find what you're looking for and throw his ass in a cell. I would be celebrating my freedom along with every other girl that bastard has manipulated. What exactly are you getting at?" she finally looked directly at the policeman.

********************

Patrick Geiger stared back at the beautiful, angry woman before him wondering if this was the holy grail of leads or a complete dead end. A DSA spokesmodel not yet under Charles DeWight's rule, who in fact, was pissed off enough at him to not care what she said.

Earlier when she came out of the kitchen in her short white satin robe he had literally lost his breath at her beauty. He had known she was good looking from the night before, but was aware of the magic a club—particularly a strip club—could do to a woman. The dim lights and flashing strobes, combined with quarts of make-up and foundation the girls wore hid all blemishes and imperfections, made the ugliest girl look like a wet dream. Most girls at the club could be ranked an 8 or 9 out of 10 on the stage; however, in normal daylight the same girls barely ranked above a 6.

Not the woman before him. If anything, she was more beautiful in the light of day, her natural beauty unblemished by make-up or poor lighting. She was stunning, as in supermodel material. She had obviously been lounging in the kitchen on her day off, wearing no make-up or dressed to impress, yet she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—her face extraordinary, almost angelic with her natural beauty.

He estimated her to be around 5'8", maybe 5'10", roughly 110-120 pounds; her measurements in the 35-24-34 range, although her large breasts were definitely D if not double D size. As he looked at her figure, he appreciated her muscular legs and arms, as well as her bubble-shaped ass and prominent full breasts.

Admiring her beauty he wondered how he had not noticed it the night before. Then again, he had been focused more on her mouth—or what her mouth was doing to him—to care if she were a beauty queen or not. In truth, for all his training of observation in law enforcement, what he remembered most about last night was his own surprise as he came inside her mouth.

For one thing most working girls did not allow it—and the ones that did quickly spat it out; however, this girl not only swallowed his load, but continued to suck him until he was completely dry. Still, as unusual as that had been, what surprised him most was not her actions but his.

In all the years of being on Vice, he had had his share of blowjobs from hookers, strippers, and even a few housewives intent on saving themselves—or surprisingly their abusive husbands—from being taken into custody. In all those years he had never been able to have a girl finish him orally. In the rare times he had cum, he had been the one tugging his flesh to release on her.

His mind flashed back to cumming in this woman's mouth, his astonishment as he clutched her head, ramming her face into his pelvis as she deep-throated his cock, milking him dry. He felt his dick stirring in response as he reminisced and looked at the beautiful woman in front of him.

Having heard the argument between her and her fiancé in the kitchen, he knew she was not purposely dressed to be seductive; however, she had a body women would die to have, and men would kill for to possess. The short white robe accentuated her body, barely reaching to the top of her thighs and leaving her long muscular legs bare, while the thin material suggestively hid the trim, large-breasted body beneath.

His watched her again struggle with the satin robe, his mind back to the present. The allure in the current situation was the knowledge of her not purposely exposing herself to him, contrasted to her at the club where it was her job. As such, every movement led to him wanting to see more and more of her flesh.

She could not help but notice the way he was looking and Geiger could see her embarrassment, the reaction turning him on even more. He understood what was happening to her, and one of the reasons he had decided to visit her at home instead of the club. Although her occupation was exposing herself to strange men, being in her own home placed her in a completely different mindset, made worse attired as she was before him.

Focusing his attention back to his questioning he almost stopped when he raised his eyes. Her robe was still skewed off one shoulder, but his attention was drawn to the obvious silhouette of her erect nipples against the satin material of the robe, the nubs visibly outlined through the thin fabric. Dreamily he felt the urge to reach out and grab her breasts, to find out if they were fake or man-made as he forced himself to look at her face, asking about her relationship with Charles DeWight.

He once again concentrated on the anger building in her eyes—not at him, but each time he mentioned DeWight's name, wondering if he could be honest with her. From what his research and questioning revealed, he was inclined to believe she would agree with his proposal; however, he needed to know if what she had done last night to him was coerced or not, as a willing informant was better than a reluctant one.

His section chief would have his ass in a sling if he found out what Geiger was contemplating.

********************

Jen noticed the cop's gaze moving down to her chest; in fact, her body involuntarily reacted to the attention as her nipples hardened and her breasts tightened. Finally, licking his lips like he was trying to gain his composure or taste her, he asked her a question that had she been clairvoyant, would know it would change her life forever.

"Would you be willing to help put him behind bars?" he finally asked her. "Or more to the point, as I can clearly see the answer on your face, how far would you be prepared to go to put him in prison for the rest of his life?" he inquired.

As the detective looked at her, all stray erotic thoughts fled from Jen's head, her mind becoming focused like a single laser of light. She recalled Dan's hatred of Mr. DeWight, how the man had purposely made Dan's life hell, lowering his self-esteem and using Dan's kindheartedness to his own advantage. How the same man was ruining their current lives, not even aware of what he was doing, as if he performed such acts of cruelty in the regular course of his life.

He had purposely drugged and seduced her to sign herself into a long-term contract, forced her into dancing nude and permitting her to be groped by customers, and then manipulating her to have oral sex with not just one, but two men.

Dan had said they would find a way for her to break the contract; however, the reality of the situation was she was completely and legally bound to it. She recalled his company's investigative report about the accusations of prostitution and pornography and although they had not voiced it, if Mr. DeWight told her to star in a pornographic movie, she would be legally bound to do it. Morally she could refuse, but the contract was immutable and if she refused, the cost of fines was staggering.

Her despair at being bound by the contract returned; however, she realized there may be an available option to get out of it. If Mr. DeWight was imprisoned she would have a case to get out of the contract without any penalties citing his illegal activities!

Seeing a light at the end of a tunnel, she asked quietly, "What do I need to do?"

"First, I ask that what I'm about to tell you not leave this room, not even to your fiancée," the officer told her as he glanced to the closed doors of the den. "Charles DeWight has been under investigation for several years for various crimes, but each time we think we have enough evidence against him, he figures out what is happening and gets away clean," he told her. "We believe he has a mole in the department or even on our team, so what I am telling you is strictly between you and me," he told her.

Jen asked why she could not talk to Dan as the policemen told her, "We know of your fiancé's past with Mr. DeWight, that they were childhood friends and even roomed together in college. We have also noticed him reaffirming that relationship recently," the cop told her.

Jen laughed, seeing the officer look at her in surprise. "Officer, I can tell you with complete certainty Dan hates Mr. DeWight even more than myself. In fact, this morning he was so angry I thought he was going to do something violent," she explained to the cop. Seeing the doubt in his eyes she told him, "As much as I despise Mr. DeWight, it is nothing compared to the loathing Dan feels towards him. If you would just talk to him, you'll see," she said.

She briefly described how Mr. DeWight and Dan grew up, how Dan had always been bullied; then talked a bit about what happened from what she knew of their college experiences; finally talking about recent events and the complete coincidence of Dan being the realtor for the clubs Mr. DeWight bought.

She left out her own events, other than to say her and Dan had thought it best for Mr. DeWight to not know of her and Dan's relationship.

"Wait a second, are you telling me DeWight doesn't know you two are engaged?" the officer asked incredulously.

Jen laughed. "Hell no, he doesn't even know we've ever even met," she explained.

********************

Patrick Geiger had doubts about the stripper's comments concerning her fiancé's relationship with Charles DeWight. He had done the research on Daniel Jeffries himself. The Jeffries and DeWight families had been close, spending summer vacations together, attending school and recreational functions together; the typical close family friends that were more family than friends. In every picture he could find, both Daniel Jeffries and Charles DeWight III had been together. They had even been roommates in college, and although there was no record of them having contact the last few years, their recent re-acquaintance was highly suspect.

The one thing his team had not been able to explain was why DeWight had bought the club his childhood friend's fiancée had worked and made her the DSA spokesmodel. They had attributed it to being a favor to Mr. Jeffries in some sort of sick, twisted voyeur fantasy; however, as he re-sorted the facts, he was amazed at the actual circumstances.

He once again expressed his doubts as the exotic dancer leaned forward, imploring him to at least talk to her fiancé. Once again his eyes drifted to the robe, now completely opened, his eyes taking in the fleshy mounds of her breasts bulging from a lace top. The right side of the robe which had fallen off her shoulder had slid to the side past her breast and he held back his surprise and excitement seeing the outline of her areola through the lace top she was wearing beneath the robe.

Once again the woman's attractiveness held him captivated as he reluctantly told her he would consider it, but needed to ask her a few more questions. Foremost in his mind was how a man could allow such a beautiful woman to be a stripper. From his investigation he knew Miss Simmons had been a dancer long before DeWight had bought the club.

Voicing his query, the woman leaned back, readjusting her robe to his mixed emotions of disappointment and relief.

"Dan hates that I dance," she explained, "but he puts up with it because we need the money. My parents could never afford college, so while Dan was away, I tried odd jobs waitressing. At first it was in small diners and I earned shit for wages, but then took a job cocktail waitressing at the club. That was about seven years ago and the club has changed names and owners several times, but I came realized my body earned me higher tips than the other girls. Back then we wore different outfits based on a daily theme—racing girls, bikinis, schoolgirl outfits, that sort of thing—and I learned to show off as much as I could for tips. Then one night a bunch of the dancing girls were out sick with the flu and needing the extra money, I volunteered to fill in," she told him. "The rest, as they say, is history," she laughed.

"But again, how does Mr. Jeffries feel about it?" he asked.

"As I said, he hates, it, but it puts food on the table. Dan's paycheck is alright, but his commissions are too spotty to plan anything for the future. We've been saving up to get married and for me to go back to school and find a real job—this wasn't my first choice in careers, but as I said, I make good money. Honestly I enjoy the attention I get, and I think Dan secretly likes the idea that although other men get to look, he is the one I come home to each night," she explained.

Not for the first time in his career Patrick Geiger wondered at what drove some men. Personally he would never allow a woman of his to work at such a club, although he did feel his pulse race at the admission if he had such a beautiful woman as Miss Simmons he would enjoy showing her off. Still, a trend towards exhibitionism did not explain everything he knew about the woman, so he decided to be blunt.

"So why become a DSA spokesmodel?" he asked. "You do realize Divine Silk Attractions is more than just a strip club organization," he told her, "and DSA girls do more than dance."

The woman's face became crestfallen as her eyes watered. His cop's intuition kicked in as he realized he had chosen the right tactic. It was evident although she knew exactly what sort of work was done by girls who worked for the company, she was reluctant to acknowledge it.

"You have not agreed willingly, have you?" he asked quietly, recalling her comments about being drugged and possibly raped.

He handed her the box of Kleenex tissues on the table next to the loveseat, and as the woman took a moment to compose herself, he once again looked her over. If what she said was true and Charles DeWight did not know her relationship with Mr. Jeffries, it made more sense. He and his team had wondered at the acceptance of Mr. Jeffries allowing his fiancée to sign a contract to become not only a porn star, but a highly paid prostitute, assuming it was a fetish thing. Factoring in DeWight not knowing they were a couple, her circumstances adhered more to DeWight's standard MO and she was simply collateral damage, Mr. Jeffries and Charles DeWight's relationship merely circumstantial.

In the years they had been investigating Charles DeWight, they found one common drive from the man—he always got what he wanted by any means necessary. In terms of beautiful women, many worked willingly, the man having a cunning and sharp mind combined with a gilded tongue. After dealing with him last night, Geiger knew DeWight could talk his way through anything; however, if words failed him, there were other methods—which had caught the attention of law enforcement.

Over the years DeWight had perfected his technique of forcing women to do what he demanded if they refused him. Initially it began with threatening and following through with physical violence. There were records of assault and battery cases all over the country with his name on them; however, none of the woman ever testified, and some actually disappeared. Further investigations led nowhere, but it was enough of a pattern to draw the attention of his team.

As DSA became more profitable over the years, DeWight became more devious. Surrounding himself with the best attorneys money could buy, he put the law on his side, binding women with legal contracts, coercing them through blackmail or other means into signing their lives over to him.