Nicole Harper 

~•~

"You've been saying next week for months now, Nicole," my landlord, a gruff man with a round face, said. "How am I supposed to trust you when you've repeatedly betrayed that trust?"

Betraying his trust was a bit dramatic because I just didn't have any money, but he had been accommodating. I didn't think any other homeowner would let me stay in their room for four months without paying.

"I know, Greg, and I'm really sorry, but I'm certain this time. If I don't pay next week, you can kick me out and throw my things in the street without notice!"

His lips thinned, eyeing me carefully. "I would throw you out after next week anyway."

My smile was tight. "I deserve it."

He let out a breath. "You're a student and I don't want to be cruel to you, so find a way to pay up okay?"

I nodded. "Yes sir."

As he left, the door closing behind him, I let out a relieved breath.

I was just coming back from classes when he ambushed me by the door and asked for my rent once again. I felt guilty that I'd delayed his payment for so long and I wouldn't wish my position on anyone.

I dragged my feet to my room, walking past two of my roommates, who didn't even spare me a glance. We were four in total, including me and Clara. I spoke to Clara occasionally, but as for the other two, I hadn't spoken to them in years, mostly because on their first day, I spoke to them and they didn't respond.

I closed my room door and dropped my backpack on the ground. Then I took off my clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. I had an objectively nice body. It looked good in my underwear so it was bound to look better in sexy lingerie. If I did agree to the opportunity Clara offered me, the men would find me attractive, right?

My straight blonde hair was long and silky. It was the one feature I was the most proud of.

I walked over to my closet and pulled out a pair of heels that I hadn't worn in a few months before going back to the mirror. Why the hell did the heels make my underwear sexier?

The first thing I did was a split to check my flexibility. I gasped in surprise. My thighs didn't hurt. I guess I wasn't too bad after all.

Before I could process it, I tapped on a random song and started dancing. 

The music filled the room and I started slowly. A roll of the hips first, then I lifted my hands above my head like I was reaching for something. I dropped low, thighs parting, then rose again in a slow grind. My reflection stared back at me, my cheeks already flushed from the quick movement.

Muscle memory kicked in harder. I wasn't perfect but I wasn't that rusty either. A few more practices in front of the mirror and I'd be as good as new.

One song passed, then another. During the third song, a knock on the door pulled me away from the mood I was in. Without thinking twice, I opened the door.

It was Clara. Her eyes fell on me and her jaw dropped. That was when I realized I was still in my underwear and heels.

I closed the door immediately. I heard her chuckle behind the door as I searched my closet for something to wear. I threw on the first pair of joggers I found as well as a shirt before I opened the door again.

Clara couldn't stop laughing as she came in. My cheeks reddened. "What's so funny?"

"You haven't told me yes yet, but you're already practicing?" She questioned, still laughing. "I'll take that as your answer then?"

I didn't answer. I was too embarrassed to.

"You have a very nice figure though. I wouldn't be able to tell under all those clothes. Are you sure you don't want to strip full-time?"

My cheeks were still warm as I replied. "The point of joining you for the night is for quick money. I don't want to get distracted."

If I'd known I'd struggled this much, I would have spent my last summer break in the strip club. I paused. Did that make me sound like a whore? Whatever.

"You're sure you won't regret your decision?" She asked, finally turning serious.

It was just stripping. There was nothing to regret. I wasn't a morality police. I wouldn't even consider myself a moral person. As long as I wasn't hurting anyone with my decision, I didn't mind doing it. Stripping for one night wouldn't take anything from me. It was nothing to be worried about.

Besides, Clara had told me the other day that we would wear masks for anonymity. We even had to sign NDA's and all that stuff. The only effect a high-profile stripping gig would have on my life would be a positive one.

"I won't regret it. It's one night." I assured her.

She nodded, a bit proud. "Alright then. I'll let you know the details later." She turned to leave, but paused. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Sometimes, these private gigs lead to sex." I opened my mouth to speak but she didn't let me. "You can decline, I promise. I just wanted you to know so you're not taken by surprise. If anyone asks for a private dance, that's likely what they mean. Just shake your head if you're not interested."

It wasn't like I was against sex for money, but I never wanted to be in a position where I'd be forced to have sex just because I went to dance on a pole. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. My boss checks his clients properly before putting them in our care. Besides," she leaned in to whisper like it was a secret, "–these men are billionaires who wouldn't want such a scandal."

That reassured me a bit. "Do you usually go all the way?"

Her smile was coy. "It depends?"

"On?"

"How urgently I need money or how hot the man is."

"Oh!" I blinked, unable to reply to that.

"You're cute." She laughed. "I wonder how we lived together for four years without being friends."

I faked a pout. "We aren't?"

"Now, we are!"

I'd been pretty depressed in the last week, but right now, I was feeling a bit better. There was hope that I wouldn't be thrown out. There was hope that I could finally settle some of my bills.

Nicole Harper

~•~

The week passed by in a blur. I spent most of my time in front of my mirror. It didn't take long for me to move as fluidly as I used to back in my freshman year. Clara showed me a basic choreography which I learnt in no time.

On the night of the gig, I was pretty nervous, but Clara assured me that I'd be alright. Even if I wasn't dancing properly, as long as I seemed confident, I was okay apparently. I took her word for it.

I followed her to the club she worked for and we met with her boss and three other girls. I wasn't entirely sure what Clara said to her boss but I was the only new face and they weren't even scared I'd fuck it up. If this ended well, I'd owe her.

We got a whole speech about how we couldn't be forced to do anything and could say no if we weren't interested which reassured me that her boss genuinely cared about our safety. Then it was time to leave.

An SUV took us to the location. The girls chatted during the ride while I stayed quiet, looking out the window. They didn't seem anxious. Then again, it wasn't their first rodeo. I could only hope I didn't fuck this up for them.

The SUV pulled up behind a high-end apartment. It was in the area where all the buildings were tall. Six of us filed into the elevator; me, Clara, her boss, and the three other girls. All five of us girls were dressed in identical lace sets as well as lace masks that made it hard for anyone who didn't know us to recognize us later. The lingerie was covered with a long coat.

When I caught my reflection on the mirrored wall, I could barely recognize myself. My blonde hair was loose and had a wet-hair vibe. My lips were painted dark red. I looked like I belonged, like I'd been doing this for years. That made me a little more confident.

Clara bumped my shoulder slightly. "Breathe, Nicole. You've got this."

I nodded.

The elevator ride was quick and in no time, the doors opened into the penthouse. My eyes went straight to the round couches arranged over a raised platform with poles. Five poles to be precise.

The room was huge and dimly lit. Low laughter filled the air. Cigar smoke curled towards the ceiling. There were seven men. All in suits. Even if their backs were to us, they felt imposing already. It was obvious they heard us come in. It was hard not to,  but they didn't bother to greet us.

David, Clara's boss, led us around them to a room directly beside the platform. There, we touched up our makeup and let go of our coats.

I waited for the girls to pick their poles before making do with the last one at the corner, right next to Clara. Standing in front of them was even more nerve-racking. The chatter had died down by now.

Unable to help it, my gaze ran through the semi-circle. Six out of seven of them were staring at us, waiting for us to start, but the one in the middle caught my attention immediately.

He sat dead center, legs spread, and arms draped over the back of the couch like he owned the space. Was he the groom? He didn't look up right away. He just stared at the platform, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming against the back of the couch.

Then his eyes lifted and locked on me like he knew I was already watching him.

I averted my gaze immediately.

Clara gave me one last nod, then the lights dimmed even further. The music shifted to something slower and much sultrier.

I started along with the other girls. We all rolled our hips, dropped low, parted our thighs, and rose again in a slow grind. Some of the men whistled. Bills fluttered onto the platform immediately. My lips almost broke into a smile. Was it that easy?

Having experience in both ballet and pole dancing, it wasn't hard for me to spin around the pole. I stopped thinking and let my body take over.

The man at the center never looked away. His eyes tracked my body like he had the right to. I caught his gaze through my mask. Being a lot more confident than when we first started, I held it for a while, then I smiled.

His jaw ticked. 

I laughed to myself and continued dancing. There was something incredibly thrilling about making a man lose control. Especially the ones that appeared to be dark and brooding. Unlike his friends, he hasn't said anything since we stepped on stage, and that made me want to tease him even more.

One of his friends leaned in to tell him something, but he didn't respond. His friend merely hit his shoulder lightly and laughed. Not once did he take his eyes off me. Was he interested in me? Did he want more than a pole dance?

On the other hand, was I interested in him? I'd been staring at him since I started dancing and there was no way he didn't notice. Was he going to do anything about it? It was almost like the world blurred and it was just him and me in the room.

I'd never been attracted to older men, but there was something very hot about this man, who seemed at least fifteen years older, who looked like he was forced to be present.

There was something about him that made my thighs clench. I couldn't entirely tell if it was the song, the mood, or his intense gaze.

I watched him as he raised a finger. David ran straight to him. He said something to David while watching me and in the next second, David was walking straight to me. 

My heart was pounding as I watched him approach me.

"He wants you," David said to me, his voice low. "Private."

I didn't even have to ask who.

Clara had told me I could refuse, but did I really want to?

My heart was in my hand as the boss led me to the room upstairs. "Remember, you don't have to do this," he said as we stopped in front of the door. 

I nodded. I knew that, but there was no reason to decline. I'd had one-night stands before. This wasn't any different.

"Alright then. Since you're in, make sure you don't fuck it up, okay? We don't want to be on his bad side."

"Is he a regular?" I asked.

"It's his first time, but I'd like to make him a regular."

I chuckled, forgetting about my sweaty palms. It was crazy how easy it was to make money off men's desires. 

The boss left me there and I took a deep breath before I entered the room. The room was big but only had a bed and a chair. I decided to sit on the bed and wait. Music was already playing from the speakers. I wasn't sure how long I waited for, but it felt like forever until the door was finally pushed open.

My breath hitched as he strode in. I stood up on instinct. He didn't utter a word as he walked toward the chair and sat on it, legs spread like they were earlier.

I could see him a lot better in this lighting. He had dirty brown hair with blonde roots. His brown eyes were so intense that I suspected he could see through me. His jaw was sharp enough to cut diamond and his face was something I wouldn't mind looking at all day.

He swiped out his tongue to wet his lips. Hunger was evident in his eyes. He didn't even try to hide it. Somehow that made me feel powerful.

"Are you going to take off the mask?"

My thighs clenched. His husky voice sent tingles straight to my core. 

His lips curved only slightly. He definitely noticed.

I cleared my throat and shook my head. "That's not part of the agreement."

He didn't respond. He just let his gaze run across my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Realizing that if I stood there and waited, he was going to have the upper hand, I decided to make the first move.

Nicole Harper

~•~

Two months later and I still hadn't found someone who could make me feel the things that stranger made me feel in bed.

I also had wet dreams about him even if I knew nothing of him.

Sometimes, I regretted going because his image was imprinted on my mind, but whenever I recalled the money I made from it, the regret dissolved quickly. I was able to pay my rent up until my graduation. I was able to focus on my studies without thinking of where to get the next meal from since my mother didn't even bother to keep her promise of sending me her next allowance.

I was more than happy when my lease was up. I'd applied for work in several companies in Boston, but didn't hear from any of them. When my mom suggested I go back home, I took it. My mom wasn't a very good person, but she knew a lot of people. If I couldn't find a job myself, I didn't mind using her connections. 

Besides, I loved Chicago more than Boston and would prefer to settle down there.

"So we're never going to meet again?" Clara questioned as she leaned by my door, watching me close my suitcase.

I looked up at her. Clara and I had become a lot closer after that night. "Chicago is only a three or four-hour flight from here, Clara. We can visit whenever we want to."

She sighed. "True. I just hope the next person that moves in is as nice as you are."

"It's hard not to be nice to someone like you."

Clara snorted. "Tell that to them," she jerked her thumb backward, pointing at the couch where our other roommates were.

I grinned. "They're special."

Everything in my room fit into two huge suitcases. Clara helped me with one downstairs and offered to drive me to the airport. I couldn't say no to that. 

At the airport, we hugged each other bye and I was on my way. I hadn't been back home in a year and a half because living with my mom was quite stressful. Thankfully, I'd be busy this summer-hopefully- and wouldn't have to deal with her every second of the day.

Speaking of my mother.

She was waiting for me as I exited the airport with a large unnecessary sign that had my name on it. My mother, as always, was in a pink matching set. Her blonde hair was tied in a deliberate messy bun. She rushed towards me when she saw me, hugging me with a squeal. I let go of my suitcases and hugged her back.

She pulled back to stare at me, frowning. "You're much thinner than you used to be."

Was I? I'd think I'd added more weight in the past two months.

"It's fine though," she dismissed me before I could respond. She took one of the suitcases and hooked her arm through mine. "We're rich now, so I'll feed you whatever you want." She paused. "Well, the housekeeper will, but his fridge is always stocked."

I stopped walking, making her halt as well. "What? We're living with your new husband?"

"Of course, silly." She chuckled. "Do you expect me to live in a different house?"

"No, I don't expect you to do that, but I can live alone at home."

"What home? I sold our house already."

My jaw dropped. It wasn't the first time I was living with my mom and her husband, but that didn't mean I wanted to go through that again. She argued with them all the time and asked for a divorce whenever things didn't go her way. If she'd told me she sold our place, I would have found a way to renew my lease. "You didn't think that maybe I'd want to live there?"

"Why would you live there when you have a better option?" She sounded genuinely confused.

I sighed and resumed walking. There was no use reasoning with her. She saw everything her way. I didn't know anything about her new husband; not his name, nor his face, nor even what he did for work. She wanted me to live with a literal stranger?

"Don't worry about it, Nikky. He's barely at home so you won't run into him all the time. I only told him to stay home today so I can introduce you. I..."

I stopped listening as she continued speaking. It wasn't ideal to live with her husband, but I had no choice at the moment. I needed to find a job, then an apartment. I also wanted to meet this supposed billionaire. I could only hope it wasn't a glorified drug dealer since my mom had very weird tastes in men.

We walked over to her car. It was just as pink as her clothes. I used to like pink when I was younger until my mom abused the color. "Is it pretty?" She questioned, pointing at the car.

I nodded noncommittally and waited for her to open the boot so I could put my luggage in.

During the ride to her new home, she talked about how perfect her new man was. Perfect being him giving her money whenever she asked without asking why she needed it. 

She also called about where and how she met him, but I zoned out during most of the conversation. I only recalled her saying that it was good to be in places where rich men frequented.

From her words, it was already obvious she didn't like the man. She only wanted his money. I felt bad for the poor man who had to marry her. She was going to drain him and leave him when he had nothing. That was usually what she did. I wasn't sure if these men didn't care enough to know her past or if they were just stupid enough to think they were the exception.

The house looked like every other building on the block, but it was fenced and well, expensive. I guess he did have money.

"Tristan!" My mom yelled as we exited the car. "Tristan! Nicole is here!"

I shook my head slightly, but rolled my luggage behind me as I headed to the door.

"Tris-" my mom's yelling was cut short when the door finally opened.

My breath caught in my throat when a very familiar man stepped out of the house. Was this the husband?

My mom walked over to him with a big grin. "Tristan, this is Nicole, my daughter. Nikky, this is Tristan, your stepfather."

I blinked. That was my stepfather?

The same man who had fucked me two months ago that I couldn't seem to forget was my new stepfather???

Was this a joke?