Read Online Pole Dance by J. A. Hornbuckle - Free Book Online
Authors: J. A. Hornbuckle
Tags: Dance
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as a demand.
"Got it," I replied softly, lost again in his beautiful gaze. You'd think that I would've had a heart attack with all the erratic beating that had happened over the course of this day. But I could feel that it was just tha-thumping along, either faster or deeper depending on Jake. His gaze. His words. His attention.
"Be good, Darlin'," he offered before softly kissing my forehead and slipping his business card into my hand.
"Later, Jake," I called softly still feeling the imprint of his lips and echo of the warmth of his hands as I watched him leave. And it was the sound of the outside door thumping closing before I could bring myself to move.
Sighing, I gave one last scratch on Floyd before letting him have his way and dropping him back to the floor as I walked down the short hallway of my small apartment, pulling at and shucking my clothes as I walked. I was determined to get a shower, although I didn't have much hope that I was gonna feel clean for a long time. There were just too many layers of 'ick' on me after today's events.
I turned on the hot water tap and as I waited for it to make its heat apparent, I gazed at myself in the mirror.
I felt older somehow, maybe wiser, after my foray into the darker part of society (although my mind screamed, 'You tried to be a Stripper!'), trying to get my paycheck from a sex-fiend ("Wanna tell me why you've got your fuckin' dick out?") the impromptu meeting with my mortgage holder in my home and all of it happening in the company of an previously unknown, hot, gorgeous champion. I couldn't actually see any discernible difference in my eyes, though. Just the remaining, the resounding feelings that echoed inside me. There was something that seemed to swim just below the surface of my blue-green irises. Though, it could've been just a trick of the weak light in my tiny bathroom. Or the reminder that I was going to have to do the two-a-day ramen diet for awhile in order to catch up on the mortgage.
Or because it had been an absolute shit day.
Worst day of my life outside of…well, you know.
It wasn't until after I had loofahed my skin raw and was on the repeat portion of the shampoo instructions that my carefully held walls came down and I began to cry again. My tears poured softly, soundlessly at first and then soon morphed into the hitching breaths and streaming eyes that signaled a full melt down. Eventually I found myself curled into a fetal-protection-position on my tiny shower floor, the pin-pricks on the now cool water pelting my skin as I sobbed out my disappointment, hopelessness and emptiness into the tiny pre-formed, fiber glassed cubicle.
It was after I was dried and blow-dried, tucked warmly in bed, and had my eyes closed that I found myself remembering the warmth of Jake's golden-eyes and reveled in memory of being cocooned so safely in his arms.
*.*.*.*.*
"Yo," Jake said into his iPhone after seeing the call was from Dale.
He was still slightly wet from the shower at his gym after his tri-weekly workout which he had indulged in after dropping Caitlin off. His gym meaning that he owned it lock, stock and barrel having purchased it in an estate sale a couple of years previously. Formerly a boxing studio, Jake had done minimal renovations, keeping a portion as training for boxers and the rest for those looking to work out without the singles scene. No lycra-pantied, cake-faced distractions were available or even wanted by his clientele and the monthly schedule never, ever included anything that included the words 'aerobic' or 'dance'.
"Got the report you wanted," Dale said, "It's on your desk whenever you decide to return, oh king of all that earns gold."
Jake couldn't help his lips lifting in a small smile as he heard his friend's words and being faintly surprised that the report was delivered in the space of a few, short hours.
"You get the rest sorted?" he asked trying to prevent any further jibes as he finished shoving his clothes in his workout bag.
"Am
"Got it," I replied softly, lost again in his beautiful gaze. You'd think that I would've had a heart attack with all the erratic beating that had happened over the course of this day. But I could feel that it was just tha-thumping along, either faster or deeper depending on Jake. His gaze. His words. His attention.
"Be good, Darlin'," he offered before softly kissing my forehead and slipping his business card into my hand.
"Later, Jake," I called softly still feeling the imprint of his lips and echo of the warmth of his hands as I watched him leave. And it was the sound of the outside door thumping closing before I could bring myself to move.
Sighing, I gave one last scratch on Floyd before letting him have his way and dropping him back to the floor as I walked down the short hallway of my small apartment, pulling at and shucking my clothes as I walked. I was determined to get a shower, although I didn't have much hope that I was gonna feel clean for a long time. There were just too many layers of 'ick' on me after today's events.
I turned on the hot water tap and as I waited for it to make its heat apparent, I gazed at myself in the mirror.
I felt older somehow, maybe wiser, after my foray into the darker part of society (although my mind screamed, 'You tried to be a Stripper!'), trying to get my paycheck from a sex-fiend ("Wanna tell me why you've got your fuckin' dick out?") the impromptu meeting with my mortgage holder in my home and all of it happening in the company of an previously unknown, hot, gorgeous champion. I couldn't actually see any discernible difference in my eyes, though. Just the remaining, the resounding feelings that echoed inside me. There was something that seemed to swim just below the surface of my blue-green irises. Though, it could've been just a trick of the weak light in my tiny bathroom. Or the reminder that I was going to have to do the two-a-day ramen diet for awhile in order to catch up on the mortgage.
Or because it had been an absolute shit day.
Worst day of my life outside of…well, you know.
It wasn't until after I had loofahed my skin raw and was on the repeat portion of the shampoo instructions that my carefully held walls came down and I began to cry again. My tears poured softly, soundlessly at first and then soon morphed into the hitching breaths and streaming eyes that signaled a full melt down. Eventually I found myself curled into a fetal-protection-position on my tiny shower floor, the pin-pricks on the now cool water pelting my skin as I sobbed out my disappointment, hopelessness and emptiness into the tiny pre-formed, fiber glassed cubicle.
It was after I was dried and blow-dried, tucked warmly in bed, and had my eyes closed that I found myself remembering the warmth of Jake's golden-eyes and reveled in memory of being cocooned so safely in his arms.
*.*.*.*.*
"Yo," Jake said into his iPhone after seeing the call was from Dale.
He was still slightly wet from the shower at his gym after his tri-weekly workout which he had indulged in after dropping Caitlin off. His gym meaning that he owned it lock, stock and barrel having purchased it in an estate sale a couple of years previously. Formerly a boxing studio, Jake had done minimal renovations, keeping a portion as training for boxers and the rest for those looking to work out without the singles scene. No lycra-pantied, cake-faced distractions were available or even wanted by his clientele and the monthly schedule never, ever included anything that included the words 'aerobic' or 'dance'.
"Got the report you wanted," Dale said, "It's on your desk whenever you decide to return, oh king of all that earns gold."
Jake couldn't help his lips lifting in a small smile as he heard his friend's words and being faintly surprised that the report was delivered in the space of a few, short hours.
"You get the rest sorted?" he asked trying to prevent any further jibes as he finished shoving his clothes in his workout bag.
"Am
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