Page 34 of The Naughty Professor
The image slammed into me like a lightning strike.Me on a platform, lights blazing, men screaming, throwing money at me and begging for more.All of them worshipping me, showering me with the attention Felix never even dreamed of.
“No,” I said, grin wide.“But I sure as hell want to.”
He leaned in closer, his mouth hot against my ear.“I run the revue upstairs.Tonight’s amateur night.You’d kill it.If you can really move, I’ll hire you.Professionally.”
I nearly laughed with the sheer thrill of the idea.Poor Felix had been a ghost, invisible, and forgotten.
I was about to become a god.
“Let’s go,” I told him.He grabbed my hand, his fingers lacing through mine.The music throbbed as he dragged me toward the stairs at the back of the club.I didn’t even look back, though I could hear Joan’s heels clicking furiously behind us, and Lorna’s laughter.
The stairs were narrow, the metal vibrating with the heavy beats of the bass.I could already hear the muffled thump of music from above, different from the floor below—higher, sharper, a beat that begged for bodies on a stage.
When we reached the top, the hallway opened wide, neon spilling from the doorways.Posters lined the walls—men in harnesses, in leather pants, and some in nothing but a smile.The smell of sweat and cologne thickened.
“This is it,” the man said, pushing open a door.
Inside—chaos.A big open space with a stage at the far end, lights blazing down, and a metal pole glinting in the center of it all.Men filled the tables, bills clutched in their fists, catcalls echoing off the walls.The air shimmered with lust.
I stopped for a second, drinking it all in.My body buzzed, alive with adrenaline and hunger.This was everything I had ever wanted, everything I deserved.
Jax, center stage, adored, and unstoppable.
* * *
Backstage smelled of sweat, cologne, and cheap beer.Every surface glowed under the glare of the stage lights bleeding through the curtains, and the music from the dance floor below rattled through the walls.
Randy—the hot slab of muscle who’d pulled me upstairs—was pacing the lineup like a drill sergeant.“You go third, Tim, and you’re after him.Mitch—don’t trip on the pole this time, for fuck’s sake.And you,”—his gaze locked on me, hungry and certain—“you’re last.The finale spot.I’m saving the best for last.”
My lips curled into a smirk.“Don’t worry.I’ll make them forget every single one of these clowns.”
The guys around me bristled, but I didn’t care.Let them glare and whisper.They’d see soon enough.
Most of them were already stripped down—cheap cotton boxer briefs, a few in shiny trunks that looked like they’d been stolen from a bargain bin.One guy had stars painted across his chest in glitter, and another had on underwear that looked like he’d shoplifted from a thrift store.A sad parade of amateurs hoping a crowd of drunk men would throw them a few bills.
I was about to burn them all alive.
I stripped without shame, peeling off the gauzy shirt, baring my chest, my abs, and the lines of my hips.Jeans came next, sliding down my legs, leaving only the thong I’d bought earlier—glittery, crimson, and scandalous.It clung to me indecently, and my cock already looked like it was ready to fight its way out.
The room went silent.
One of the guys—skinny, all sharp bones and bad tattoos—whistled low.“Jesus Christ.That thing’s too big for that little scrap of fabric.”
“Yeah,” another muttered, eyes wide, “your dick’s gonna break the damn thong.”
Their stares crawled all over me, devouring, jealous, and hungry.I lifted my chin and grinned.This was what I was made for—the spotlight, the stares, the way men stopped breathing when they looked at me.
Randy laughed and pinched my nipple.“Knew I picked right.Those fuckers won’t know what hit ‘em.Oh, you need a little of this.”He grabbed a handful of glitter out of a jar and tossed it on me.
The music shifted out front, muffled cheers rising as another contestant stumbled onto the stage.Through the curtain, I caught a glimpse: a wiry guy in fluorescent briefs gyrating against the pole like he’d never touched another human body in his life.The crowd clapped politely, but the noise was thin.
Pathetic.
Another one went after him, dancing like he thought flexing his abs counted as choreography.The bills trickled, but the audience’s attention was already fading.
I prowled at the edge of the curtain, peeking out.The crowd was thick, men three deep around the stage, dollar bills held high, voices shouting over the music.The lights bathed everything in fiery red and gold.
And there they were.
