Page 1 of Razor's Property

1

Razor

“You want another round, Razor?”

I give a slight shake of my head as I bring the glass to my lips, my eyes trained on the stage as the pungent taste burns on my tongue. Coating the back of my throat with the thick heat of my memories. Kitty Lane reaches for the pole and swivels her hips down, dancing to the rhythmic pulse of the beat. The base pumps throughout the room as the blood pumps faster in every onlooker’s veins.

The waitress finally takes her burning stare off the side of my face and runs along to do her job. Kitty Lane slides back up the pole. Slowly. Beginning a steady roll of her hips like she’s riding a man. Fucking him faster as the crowd gets louder, shouting their approval. Degrading her with their thoughts. I doubt there’s a dry seat in the house. All of them wanting her to give them a real fuck. Their twisted minds believing they actually have a shot because she smiled in their direction.

Dollar bills get tossed to the stage and a chant rings out for her to take her bra off. She turns her head to the side, seducing them further as she slips one strap down her arm. Teasing the men with her eyes. Luring them in with the sly smile quirked on her lips. She turns her attention to other side of the room, slipping down the other strap. Working her audience with equal measure.

With every tease of skin, more money gets thrown on stage. More cat calls pierce my eardrums. She plays the game with perfection. A natural at the lie. Like a black widow of seduction. When her bra finally slips free, dropping to the ground, the men erupt wildly, begging her to turn around so they can see her tits. Throwing more money at her so she’ll give them what they want. When she finally does, the drunk bastards go crazy. It’s like they’ve never seen a naked pair before.

Kitty’s always been the crowd favorite. Pretty blonde hair with a tight body and a full rack. Her tits are bought and paid for, but no one in this joint gives a shit. They’re just happy they aren’t sagging from the weight of age or stretched from having kids. Her entire body is toned and tight, but spending hours dancing around a pole, using her muscles to spin herself around on the thing, will keep a girl fit.

The music changes. The tempo slower, beating like the steady rhythm of sex. It’s her final set. And you can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s ready to give the guys a grand finale. She slides down to her knees, crawling slowly to the front of the stage. Preying on every innocent man as she stalks them with her stare. Drawing them into her trap. She has them right where she wants them. And then…she goes in for the kill.

She sits back on her knees. Her thighs spread wide enough to see the outline of what she’s got hidden under her G-string, tits pushed out for everyone to get a good view of her cherry-capped mounds. Her hands start their steady descent, runningdown her neck, gliding slowly over the line between her breasts. She circles the plump flesh, teasing the men with every rotation, earning a choir of grunts and groans. Her fingers glide to her nipples, giving each a pinch as she bites down on her lower lip. Beginning to fuck the air with her hips while she makes eye contact with every man in the room. Making them believe they’re desired. Making them crave her more, and earning herself a flood of flying bills.

One of her hands remains locked and groping on her breast while the other makes its way down, sliding lower, trailing slowly over her stomach, continuing its path to the crux of every man’s desire. She teases her fingers across her waistline until the men can’t handle it anymore, begging for her to touch herself, and she finally gives in. Her hand slides straight into her panties and her head falls back on her shoulders like the pleasure has just rocked her hard. The men go wild. Shouting how they’ll give her what she needs. Pleading for her to take her panties off so they can see what she’s got hiding between those legs.

She keeps up the game, playing with herself, rocking her hips faster. Making every dick throb for her. She lifts her head from her shoulders and opens her eyes, and then she turns. Her stare locking right on me as she pulls the material to the side. As if she’s showing me exactly what I’m doing to her little pussy. Making it swollen. Making it wet. The silent message is sent, burning like a blue flame in the depths of her weighted eyes. It’s me she’s thinking of as she rubs herself off, and if I want to take her home tonight, she’s mine.

I bring my glass back up to my lips and take another sip, ignoring the urges pulsing between my legs. It’s never going to happen. Unlike the others in the room, I can see right through the act. There’s a reason she’s up on that stage dancing to make her living, and it isn’t because it was her lifelong goal. Whatever brought her here, whatever she’s wrapped up in or running fromisn’t something I want to get involved with. I’m already dealing with enough baggage to know I can’t carry any more.

Besides, even if I was interested in curbing my appetite, I don’t have a taste for eager, and ever since the day I walked into this club, Kitty’s been begging to be mine. Making her desire known every time I come in. But the only taste I have is for the whiskey in my glass, numbing the memories with every sip until they’re no longer locked around my neck. No longer constricting my soul until I can’t breathe.

Her head finally turns, knowing she’s left her paying customers hanging for too long. She slips her hand out from between her legs and brings her fingers to her lips, sucking on them nice and slow. Lewdly licking up every drop of her cum. The men beg for a taste, throwing more money at her, and shetsks them with those same fingers. Seducing them further as she crawls around the stage, stopping at each desperate victim to collect her hard-earned cash. They tuck bills into her G-string, then tuck more in when she lets them have an up-close peek of what’s hiding behind that scrap of a cloth between her legs. She blows them a kiss before moving onto the next gullible soul who’ll hand over his paycheck, thinking it will earn himself a shot with the girl.

I’d put money on her having a few sugar daddies in her life that pay her bills. One of them probably bought her her tits too. Probably married with a wife and kids at home, and a day job that bores the hell out of him. A man willing to risk it all for a hot fuck.

Stupid shit. All of them are.

I take another sip, trying not to think of the life I could’ve had had I made a different choice. Had I not let my dick call the shots for me and fuck up the best thing I ever had. But I can’t turn back the clock, can I? I made my damn bed, and now I’m going to die in it.

When Kitty gets to my side of the stage, she stops, waiting like she always does. Her little teeth sinking into her lower lip as she runs her eyes down my frame, slowly sliding them over my lap and staring at the bulge inside my pants. The one heavy and thick, and hard not to miss. Her tongue runs across her lip, relaying exactly what she’s hungry for.

“If you’re ever feeling lonely, Razor, you know I’ll give you a private show. Make it worth your while.” Her eyes drop back down to my dick, flaring as she lets out a little moan.

I tip my glass toward my mouth then polish off its contents, watching as the desire burns darker in her blue depths. Her rosy nipples pucker up tighter, revealing the thoughts running through her head. I lean forward to place my empty glass down on the bar in front of her, seeing the flare of excitement light up her face. She thinks I might finally be taking her up on her offer, that I might finally be giving in. But like I said, it’s never going to happen.

I slip a bill onto the stage and turn my head to signal the waitress for my check.

Kitty pauses for a second longer, still watching me closely, still holding out hope, but my mouth stays shut. My face void of interest. She picks up the Benjamin I left for her then finally cuts her losses, moving on to collect the rest of her tips. Putting a little more excitement into her flirtations with the man sitting next to me while she watches me from the corner of her eye, gauging my reaction. The girl is a fool to think she’d find me jealous. Not when it comes to her.

The lights start flickering, letting Kitty know her time is up, which means it’s time for me to head out. I only ever stay for one drink. One drink and one dance is enough to take the edge off. Enough to numb the regret and occupy my mind for a bit.

“And here she is, gentleman.” The announcer’s voice quiets the entire room. The ruckus fading fast. It’s a curious reaction.There’s a new tension of eagerness settling over the crowd as everyone waits to find out who’s up next. “She’s the one you’ve been waiting for. Our new addition. Miss Angel Fire. She may look like an angel, all sweet and demure, but we all know that underneath all that sweet innocence is a wild girl wanting to be tamed. Are you guys ready to wrangle her in? Ready to clip her wings and make a sinner out of her?”

The crowd turns rabid, screaming louder than they did for Kitty. And Kitty Lane is the star of this place. I watch as the spotlights come on and the foggers fill the stage with smoke. The song starts to pump louder through the speakers, and everyone begins chanting her name.

“Angel! Angel! Angel!”

I’m glued to the dark shadow hidden behind the mist. Waiting for this girl to come into the light and reveal herself. I’m curious as to who is receiving more of an uproar than Kitty. The fog parts and out she walks. White feather wings drawn up. A shimmery diamond bodice sparkling under the lights. Long, toned legs gracefully sauntering forward just like an angel.

The cheering grows louder as she comes center stage, but its quickly drowned by the sound of the rapid pulse drumming in my ears. Eight years. It’s been eight years. Nearly three thousand days. And I would never mistake her face. Never forget those eyes. Dark chocolate like a decadent treat. So rich and smooth you can barely swallow when you look within their depths. They used to turn molten when I had her pinned beneath me. Would flutter when I’d tell her how beautiful she was. There’s no mistaking… It’s her.

I scoot forward in my chair, feeling the tension rolling down my spine. The hairs raising on my arms. My nerves are prickling, like a porcupine is brushing against every single one. She flutters her wings as she moves around the stage, dancing to the beat.The rhythm of her hips mesmerizing every man in the room. Her angelic face making them fall in love.

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