The Strip Ch. 05

"I hear you and your boyfriend are in some debt?"

The redhead looked crestfallen. "How—?"

The gangster waved his arms wide. "Rosie, I know everything about my girls. That's why I'm able to look after everyone so well. Haven't I always told you that if you ever have a time of need, just come to Big Eddie?

"Yes, I know, thanks very much," she smiled, disguising her churning stomach. Asking for Big Eddie's help meant he regarded you as his personal property. No way was that going to happen.

"But you chose not to?"

Rosie hesitated, her green eyes wary of the gangster. "It's not that, Eddie. Charlie and I try to pay our own way. Settle our debts—"

"Of course, I understand," he interrupted. "And Charlie's a great guy. You're very loyal to him, aren't you?" Rosie glanced at him—there was something in his eyes. What was it? "Where is he?" he asked.

The redhead shuffled in her seat. The bastard knew Charlie was gambling again. "I… I'm not sure," she mumbled.

Eddie's smile was as bright as the Nevada sun. He felt giddy inside, knowing what he was about to disclose, not that he'd confess his part. "Have you spoken to him in the last couple of days?"

Her eyes narrowed. What was it? Tell me you bastard! "Why?"

The gangster paused for effect. This was perfect, she looked like she was going to crap herself. "Because he gambled away a wad of money the night before last," he told her, slowly pronouncing each word.

"He did what?" she asked, the colour disappearing from her face. The stupid bastard couldn't have—

"And then left Vegas," he continued, crossing his hands in front of him. "From what I understand, he won't be back."

Rosie felt her chest tighten. Her head spun as she tried to contain the wave of dizziness overwhelming her. This couldn't be true?

"Here," he told her, pouring some water from the glass jug and pushing the tumbler towards her. "He's said nothing to you?" Her shocked face stared back at him. She couldn't speak, she couldn't even cry, she was numb. "I'm not surprised, Rosie," he murmured, standing up and walking around behind her.

For a second, anger flared inside her. Anger at her rotten shit of a boyfriend, at the man digging his hands into her shoulders! She was a woman, not a commodity to be manipulated by these selfish bastards. Her deep breath allowed her to regain control. Without Charlie, she didn't need to do this anymore. She could find another job. Suddenly, it was almost a relief.

"Look," she said, twisting around in the chair, ready to tell him to keep his hands to himself. The look on his face stopped her. There was more—

"He left you with those debts, Rosie. That's why he ran away without a word. Like the skunk he is. The loan sharks were going to come after you, so I bought out the debt. That saved you, Rosie. If those bastards get to you… well…" he held his arms out wide. "We both know what that means!"

"How—" she gasped, wringing her hands together then grabbing the glass, draining the rest of the water. "How much?"

When he told her, she fainted.

***

It took Holly less than ten minutes to use the bathroom and slip back into her clothes. When she returned, the sight of a still naked Daniel lying on the bed sent another shudder of arousal through her. His manhood looked so sweet, still sticky from their fucking. The blonde beauty looked at the door and then at Daniel. Well, why not, she asked herself?

Slipping onto the bed, she took his soft cock in her fingers, gently stroking whilst she stared into his eyes. Her soft grunt indicated she was pleased with his instant response in her hand.

When she leant forward and took him in her mouth, he groaned. "Fuck, Holly!"

Slurping off him for a brief second, she mumbled, "We've already done that. But how about this?"

It took seconds to remove her tee shirt for the second time that morning. Cupping her full breasts, she slowly lowered them onto his now semi-erect cock. It twitched as she squeezed her soft flesh around it. Her eyes smiled into his as she began to move. Within seconds, he'd joined in, closing his eyes and bucking his hips. It didn't take long.

"Holly," he grunted. "I'm gonna cum—"

"So quickly?" she teased.

Before he could respond, she dropped her head and took him back in her mouth. She sucked in short, sharp bursts, one hand stroking his shaft as her lips concentrated on his crown. His fingers wrapped around her blonde locks as his body gave one final jerk. Pulling up, she aimed him at her swells, loving the feel of the splashes that instantly covered her gleaming tits. "Good boy," she purred, like a satisfied kitten.

"Holly" he gasped. "That was sensational—"

"Just time to get back for a shower," she grinned, pulling her tee shirt back over her cum covered flesh. "But we need to understand one thing, Daniel. I've broken one of my rules by just being here with you. And I don't often break rules. But I needed that badly."

"Rules?"

"It was a one-off, Daniel. I'm a loner, and that's the way I like it. So don't get any ideas. It was just a fuck and we won't be repeating it! Okay?"

She waited until he nodded before standing and heading for the door. As she pulled it open, she paused and looked back. "Wish me luck today?" she asked.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the whirlwind that had just overwhelmed him. "All the luck in the world, Holly. I'll check in later to see how it's going for you."

"Good idea," she grinned. "You might learn a thing or two—"

***

"Where are you goin', girl?" the booming voice behind Carly asked.

She swung around to find herself face to face with Big Eddie's number two in the anteroom leading to Big Eddie's office. "Going to see your boss, Desmond. What's it to you?"

"He's expectin' a visitor," he told her, strolling in front of her to block the way to the door in front of her. "You'll need to see him later."

"Oh, really?" she asked, pursing her lips and attempting to step past him. "Why don't we allow him to be the judge of that?"

"He is the judge, little lady," he told the spiky haired woman, stepping into her path again. "He's told me to keep everyone out of his way until his visitor's arrived and they've concluded their… business."

"Their… business," Carly mimicked, shuddering at the way his eyes ran the length of her body. She'd worn the see through black top deliberately, but it was meant for the organ grinder, not the monkey. "That means it's a woman he's going to see?"

The large man shook his head. "It don't matter none to you who it is, little lady. Why don't you head back the way you came?"

"I will, Desmond," she smiled. "As soon as Big Eddie tells me to. Now if you'll excuse me—"

This time it was his hand on her arm that stopped her as she attempted to push past him. "Hey, girly, you want to show more respect. You'll have more competition in a few days, you don't want to cause any trouble, now d'you?"

"More competition?" she asked. It was well known that Samuel was taking Eddie's better girls. What did this big lump mean?

"Yeah, we'll have the cream of the crop strainin' for a job here very soon," he sneered. "The finest Samuel Smith has to offer."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little more quickly than she intended. It made the older man think twice about what he'd said.

"Never you mind," he grunted, clumsily attempting to cover his mistake. "Why don't I tell you when Big Eddie's free, then you can see him later. Okay?"

Carly hesitated. Whatever this lump had in mind, she needed to find out. "Des-mond," she seductively murmured, running a hand down the front of his shirt. "D'you know why I want to see Eddie?"

"N… no," he said, suspicious yet reacting to the fingers flicking open a button and sliding through the gap to stroke his hairy chest.

Her deft fingers unfastened two buttons of her own blouse. "Because I'm feeling horny," she told him, tweaking his nipple. "D'you know what turns me on?"

"Wh… what?" he grunted, his eyes drawn to the cleavage now on display.

"Powerful men," she murmured, playing with the belt of his trousers. "Men that bend others to their will. Action men. Are you an action man, Desmond?" she seductively asked, unfastening the belt.

"You better believe it, little lady," he responded, his deep voice sounding a little hoarse as she reached behind her to lock the door into the anteroom.

"Tell me something that'll turn me on more than I am now?" she asked, tugging his zipper downwards, one slow inch after another. "Tell me why we're gonna have some of Samuel's girls."

The big man shifted from one foot to the other. "Can't," he mumbled, gasping as her hand found his hardness.

"Tell me and I'll blow ya," she smiled, pulling his cock free and sliding to her knees. "Tell me what an action man you are, baby."

"Can't," he repeated, his large hands finding their way to her head.

Carly resisted the hands that attempted to force her mouth onto him. "You're not important at all," she spat, pulling away. "You're all talk—"

"Yeah?" he growled, his hands gripping her head tighter and holding her beside his thick, veiny, cock. "That's what you think."

Her tongue licked upwards along the length of his shaft. "Tell me then, Desmond. I want your cock in my mouth as much as you do. "Tell me, baby, I'll keep it to myself, you know that!"

***

Looking around the table, Holly saw only nervousness. Nerves never affected her. She couldn't afford them. The year in which she'd learned to use poker as a cover for her primary occupation had passed quickly. Yet this was the first occasion she'd experienced the full, unexpurgated thrill that poker had to offer. Even reaching the business end of yesterday's tourney hadn't brought the same sense of anticipation as the Main Event had evoked.

That's why she'd needed Daniel so badly. Sex was like a drug for her, fuelling her calm when her adrenalin threatened to overrun. Gave her an advantage.

Despite poker coming a distant second to her main occupation, her competitive instinct drove a desire for her to try and emulate yesterday's unexpected achievement. The likelihood was that she would never play in the Main Event again and she was going to give it her best shot.

Her starting hand was the worst the game had to offer, but it presented a challenge. In late position, she raised in an attempt to steal the big blind. Unfortunately, both the small and big blinds responded. Damn! Okay, no heroics. See the flop then fold gracefully.

The cards changed her thinking. Seven-Seven-Two. Full house!

She checked behind the two blinds, attempting to induce a bet later in the hand. It came after the King on the turn. Small Blind raised the size of the pot and to her astonishment, the Big Blind pushed all-in.

Holly sat quietly, attempting to put him on a hand. Pocket Kings would take her out, but that was the only hand that could damage her. If he'd held them, he'd almost certainly have re-raised her pre flop raise. No, he didn't have Kings. Ace-King, perhaps? Or better still—pocket two's?

"Come on tits," the Big Blind sneered as she pondered. "Show us your balls."

Holly ignored the laughter that rippled around the table. "Highly original," she dryly replied, pushing her chips into the middle.

A buzz of expectation ran around the table, as if the attractive blonde amongst them had been goaded into a silly move. It should have been a straightforward fold for the Small Blind, but somehow the pock-faced young Swede got caught up in the atmosphere.

"I've got balls, too," he responded, as if macho was the order of the day.

Play at the surrounding tables ground table stopped as each of the all-ins was announced. The Swede immediately turned over Big Slick, to be met with a disdainful growl from the Big Blind.

"You're out of your league," the tubby Scotsman snarled as he flicked over his pocket deuces. "You, too, tits," he drawled. "Show us yer set."

Holly flipped over her cards. The gasp extended beyond their table.

"Goddam it," the Scot growled. "You raised pre-flop with that fucking crap?"

Holly sat impassively as she waited for the dealer to administer the final coup de grace. With no cards in the deck that would help them, her opponents were drawing dead.

"Fucking ridiculous," the bad tempered Scot eventually snarled at Holly. "You won't last another five minutes."

"Maybe not Big Balls," she responded, pulling the chips across the table. "But it'll be five minutes longer than you. Now if you'll excuse me, I've some chips to stack."

Laughter ran around the nearby vicinity as he grabbed his jacket and turned on his heels, regaling anyone in his vicinity on the injustice of life at the poker table.

"Okay, boys," Holly drawled, looking around the table through her dark sunglasses. "You can all see my tits. Let's see your balls!"

***

Whatever it was that Desmond and Carly had been up to, it was enough to have the red-faced older man short of breath as she pushed past the two of them and into Big Eddie's office. "Come in," he said immediately at her first soft knock; he'd been expecting her. But then he'd told her to be prompt.

"Dress sexily, too," he'd told her before she left his office earlier that morning. "A dress—I just love a woman in a classy dress."

The skimpy black dress was exactly what he wanted. It was the shortest she had, only just covering the perfect swell of her toned ass. With its low cut front, the silver pendant around her neck settled perfectly in her amply displayed cleavage. She looked a mixture of class and sex, though standing nervously in front of the gangster, one leg cocked to the side, hands by her sides, she felt anything but.

If she ever laid eyes on Charlie again, she'd kill the bastard. This was all his doing. The world of exotic dancing was bad enough, but at least that'd been her decision. The extra step with clients had resulted from Charlie's debts, and now his out of control gambling had led her to this embarrassing moment.

She hated her ex-boyfriend with a passion, and hated this man, too, for forcing her into this. But there were fifty thousand reasons screaming at her, leaving her in no doubt that she had no choice. A private dance would be the first step to reducing her obligations, he'd insisted.

She couldn't have said no if she'd wanted.

"Very, very nice," Big Eddie appreciatively murmured, sipping from the large, oval glass. Brandy was his favourite drink. "Fix yourself one," he smiled with false warmth as he saw her eyeing his glass.

Glancing at the wet bar to her left, she reluctantly turned and sauntered over to it. She could feel his eyes on her ass like he was physically groping her. "Very nice!" he said again, enthusiastically. "Love the heels, too. Nice touch."

Reaching for a switch in his desk, he let the PA system from the club filter in through his high definition speakers. The room was bathed in the driving beat of the techno his girls danced so well to. Before she'd finished pouring her drink, he ordered, "Lose the dress." He smiled as her pouring hand shook, spilling some of the rich bourbon onto the bar top. "Careful, honey, you don't want to owe me anymore than you already do."

She didn't say anything, setting down the crystal decanter and reluctantly reaching for the zipper at the back. She fumbled in her nervousness. "Do it slowly," his harsh voice barked.

With a soft gulp, her trembling fingers pulled the zip downwards, revealing first the blackness of her bra, then the swell of her ass barely covered by the skimpy, matching thong.

"That's good," he encouraged, his voice low and deep, the tone of lustful anticipation. "Turn back and slip out of the dress. Slowly."

Rosie edged back round, her hands dropping the spaghetti shoulder straps to her waist. She could feel the swell of her freckled breasts heave as they spilt over the plunge bra. She looked anywhere other than his direction as she shimmied the dress over her shapely hips, dropping it across her black high heels.

"Kick it away," the gangster told her, his piercing eyes glued to her figure. This was going to be so sweet. "Okay," he growled. "Let's see you dance."

For a second, she froze, her breath caught in her throat. The song on the speakers transitioned; Donna Summer's Hot Stuff began to play. This was surreal; the same song she'd danced with Carly to?

Closing her eyes, she pretended that she was up on stage, dancing like she had been dancing for the past few months. It worked, at least a little. Her hips began to sway to the music. As long as she kept her eyes closed she could get through this, she told herself.

"Good, but I don't think you get the concept of a private dance," she heard him growl. "I don't want what I can get by watching you in my club." She faltered, opening her eyes. He'd wheeled out from behind his desk and was lounging in his high-backed leather chair, arms at rest, brandy balanced in one hand. "I want a lap dance, honey…"

Glancing at the bulge forming in the front of his trousers, she knew what else he wanted. Her heart fluttered nervously. Give him what he wanted. Anything to reduce her debt, although he hadn't indicated how much the private dance was worth—she'd make sure she didn't come cheap.

Throwing back the glass of brandy she'd poured, she let it sizzle in the back of her throat a moment before sauntering across the room. With each long step, one leg in front of the other, she grew more confident. She'd never done this, but if she had to, she could.

Big Eddie opened his legs wider as she found the rhythm once again, turning her thong-clad ass in his direction. Reaching into her hair, she found the tie of her ponytail and released it, tossing the long, red waves about her shoulders. Bending low at the waist, she presented her plush buttocks to him as she slowly straightened up.

Same tricks she used on stage, only much closer. Right?

Head back, her tongue ran across her lips as her hips swayed more sensually to the beat on the speakers. Her hands rose to her neck, and then slowly began their downward journey, across her cleavage, cupping her breasts through the bra. Damn, her nipples were hard already.

Widening her stance to bend once again at the waist, she swung her hips left and then right. Her hands ran down to her inner thighs, caressing them before locking behind her back, allowing the gangster to see her full, swaying body in all its glory.

Work it Rosie, she told herself, realising that she was no longer just performing to please the gangster. Three days without sex, her near session with the Englishman, and the recollection of Carly's leg jammed between her thighs all combined to increase her arousal. Even the fact she was being forced into this situation was somehow a turn on. Damn, she was horny!

Hot Stuff faded into another song with an equally driving bass. "You're doing well, Rosie, but this is a lapdance." His voice rumbled through her trembling body. Time for something new.

Glancing over her shoulder, she flicked her tongue across her wet lips and met his eyes. Guys always liked eye contact; liked to think they were the only one that mattered. For Rosie, the illusion wasn't too hard to create—right now, he was the only one that mattered.

Swinging her hips, she allowed his eyes to feast on her ass. Want it—want this body—want this ass? She backed up between his legs and lowered her near-naked body into his lap. Much to her surprise, his hands stayed on the arms of the chair, as though this were a legitimate lap dance at a legitimate club.

Bending forward, she grinded her ass against his erection and reached behind to unhook her bra. Tits free, she shifted her weight, draping her topless torso over his powerful chest. Running her fingers across her flat stomach, pinching her diamond belly piercing before cupping her large, freckled breasts. She kneaded the soft swells and met his eyes once again.