Chapter 1 One Night With A Stripper

• DORIS
• I was excited to get off work early. I planned to make a special dinner for Bob's birthday, and because my meeting cancelled, I had even more time to make something delicious.
• It was a gray day. The New York City smog and noise were worse than usual.
• But I whistled a happy tune. I walked down 5th Avenue on a cloud.
• Bob, my boyfriend of a year, and the most senior real estate agent in the firm where I was an entry-level marketer, said he didn't want to wait to plan a big wedding. He wanted us to elope at the end of the month.
• Promising me we'd be together in an expensive house with a pool was a little much. It was a lot, considering how hard I worked just to scrape by. Bob said I should pay the whole rent so he could save for a dream house for us.
• It's hard paying the expensive rent by myself, but Bob is so adamant about buying us a fancy villa, I have to believe him.
• Bob and his tales of our fantastic future quickly became my whole life. The least I could do was make him his favorite dinner.
• Our boss, Andrea, has had me traveling a lot during the last six months. Bob has pushed for my long travel assignments too.
• Now I know it's because he was thinking of our financial future.
• Surely his encouraging Andrea to give me such challenges was a sign he wanted me to do well.
• As I turned the corner, I saw the jewelry store window. "Oh, my God." My hands flew to the side of my face.
• There they were, the most beautiful wedding rings I had ever seen. They were perfect, just like Bob and I.
• I stared at the rings for a long time. I knew I had to have them. They were so beautiful; if I didn't get them now, someone else would.
• "Don't, Doris," I said to myself. "It's the guy's job to buy the rings, and you need every penny you've got to pay for Noah's hospital expenses."
• I put my hand on the glass. Sadness overwhelmed me for a second, just like it did every time I thought about my foster father's valiant heroism and resulting coma.
• Noah couldn't come to our wedding, but he would be there in spirit.
• I put my hand on the window. "No, Doris," I told myself firmly. I walked away, but the call of the rings sucked me right back.
• The rings were so beautiful. They'd wipe out my entire savings, but it would be worth it.
• I stepped into the fancy mirrored elevator in our building. The woman looking back at me is not the cute 26-year-old I expected. Instead, the tense woman I see is thin and serious.
• "That can't be me," I whisper to myself. But it is.
• My long brown hair was carefully coiled up. My pale face starkly contrasted the dark circles under my eyes. My usually sparkling hazel pupils looked dim.
• I leaned forward and applied the dark Chanel lipstick Bob liked so much.
• It just makes me look older, not more sophisticated. Not like a woman with rings in her pocket bursting with happiness.
• Not at all.
• Bob used to be so sweet and attentive, but lately, he's been distant. Something just doesn't feel right.
• Maybe it's just my imagination, but I can't shake this feeling of unease.
• I took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator, determined to put my worries aside and surprise Bob with the beautiful rings I had just bought.
• I walked toward our apartment, excited. I couldn't wait to see Bob's face when I showed him the rings.
• As I opened the door to our apartment, the sounds of sexy moans assaulted my ears.
• Was Bob watching porn?
• No. As I stepped closer, my heart dropped. All the air left my lungs.
• That sounds like Bob's grunts.
• An icy chill gripped me.
• Bob was having sex with Andrea, our boss.
• No. It can't be.
• But it is.
• Andrea was twenty years older than Bob and thirty years older than me! My stomach turned as I saw lipstick smudged on Bob's neck. The same color. That bastard gifted Andrea the exact same lipstick!
• I tear my eyes away from their naked bodies.
• My legs felt like jelly. My hands shook so hard that I dropped the wedding ring boxes, and they popped open.
• I bent to pick them up, but my skirt ripped.
• Bob laughed, whether at my mortification, naiveté, or shabbiness, I don't know.
• The words, "But you love me," get stuck in my throat.
• Bob doesn't look guilty or remorseful. He looks proud of being next to a rich woman.
• "This is a one-time thing, right?" I whispered, sounding broken and pathetic. "Because of your birthday?"
• Andrea laughs. "This has been going on for six months. I'm pregnant."
• I stood frozen, breaking.
• "No, no, no," I cry.
• Then I ran out of our apartment.
• "Stupid, stupid," I scolded myself as I jammed the elevator button repeatedly.
• Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
• The darkening sky reflected how I felt – betrayed and numb. Bob ripped my heart out.
• Fuck him.
• I ran down the streets, barely looking where I was going. Finally, I stopped in front of one of the most trendy dance clubs in New York City.
• It's a large, two-story building with a neon sign that flashes "The Strip" in bright red letters.
• I wanted to let loose and have fun. I deserved to have fun for once. I'd been such a good girl, and where had it gotten me?
• The inside of the club was dark and smoky, with a dance floor in the center, a stage on the left, and a bar along one wall. There were tables and chairs scattered around the room.
• I leaned against one wall, having one drink after another.
• It doesn't make me feel any better.
• The lights flash over the stage. A bunch of male strippers sauntered on stage for a Magic-Mike-like performance.
• The first group of strippers are all dressed like cowboys. They're good dancers. The songs are short.
• In the next group, the guys are all dressed like firemen.
• There's a male singer on the band stage by the bar, and he's not bad.
• The next group of strippers are dressed like policemen. Their routine is funnier and raunchier. The audience loves it.
• I take another drink. This was a good idea.
• I ditch my jacket and open my shirt to reveal my black lace bra, which looks like a fancy bandeau.
• The next group of guys dressed like naughty doctors.
• A female singer replaces the male singer, and she's not as good.
• When I drink, I lose my inhibitions, and I've drunk a lot. Those sexy doctors deserve better accompaniment.
• I grabbed the microphone away from the singer, hopped up on the bar, and started to sing, rap, and shake my hips. I'm on fire.
• The audience loved it. The stripper doctors looked thankful.
• When their number was over, they sat down with several strippers from the previous songs.
• "We'll be right back with our sexy businessman and angel/devil revue," an overhead speaker announced.
• I jumped off the stage and walked up to the table of strippers dressed like businessmen.
• The biggest, sexiest one, with the sad, dark gray-blue pupils, short golden-brown hair, and masculine chiseled jaw, has been staring at me since I started singing.
• I open my shirt even more as I approach him and boldly put my hand on his chest.
• He smells fantastic.
• The beast inside me roars, roaring, craving something primal, something carnal.
• "Bail on your stripper routine. Come back and have a one-night stand with me right now."
• One of the other businessmen strippers gasped, but my guy gave him a stony look.
• I fisted the handsome stripper's expensive-looking tie. "I need to forget. I'll give you five hundred dollars to come with me and make me forget everything."
• He raised one eyebrow. It was a challenge and a promise.
• He nodded.
• "I'm Arthur," he said. His voice was husky, smokey, sensual.
• "I'm Doris."
• He took my hand and led me to a nearby hotel.
• I knew I was in for a wild night. I didn't care. I was ready to let go and indulge in my desires.