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seabreeze1969 · 2 days

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Strawberry Pancakes

Summary: Gator Tillman meets OC stripper. She is reluctant to give him a dance, but ends up enjoying it a little too much. He is more than happy to break some rules with her.

Tags/Warnings: strippers, thigh riding, lap dance, power dynamics, paid intimacy, dirty talk, teasing

Chapter One

~Gator

It was the second Friday of May. Every other Friday he found himself sitting in the back of The Tender Trap, a local strip club, with an envelope in his pocket as he waited for a militia man to collect the hefty support of Sheriff Roy Tillman, his father. It was an easy job. That’s why his father gave it to him. At least it was supposed to be easy. But things never came easy to Gator.

As his lazy gaze glossed around the small club, his heart caught in his throat. He wasn’t met with Roxy or Crystal, the usual dancers who would throw him winks every now and again. He saw a young woman he’d never seen before. He was sure if she had been there any of the other Fridays he would’ve known.

Her legs were toned, but covered in stockings forcing him to imagine the bare skin underneath. As his gaze slithered further up skipping over her bare stomach to her breasts he started to feel his pants tighten. The white laced cups pushed up her small tits and had them spilling out over the low top. And finally he reached her face. Her bouncy brown curls framed her soft face, and he couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open as he caught her big doe eyes.

He knew he must’ve looked like a moron sitting there with his jaw on the floor, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in person. Something straight off of one of those raunchy old bikini posters he tacked behind his bed.

Before he could stop himself his feet carried him over to the seats closest to the stage where she was entertaining two other men. The closer he got the more her eyes narrowed at him and she suddenly seemed familiar, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the doc’s kiddo? Miss Grey?” He’d seen her only a couple times when he had to visit the local clinic after a job went sideways, and she looked vastly different in layers of clothes and thick rimmed glasses. But she had given him that same narrow look.

“No, sir,” she shook her head, her full lips turning into a pout, “My name is Candy.”

“Hah, yeah sure it is,” he huffed a laugh, “Anyways, aren’t you a little too smart to be dancing around half naked?”

And then it was her turn to laugh, “If smarts had anything to do with it you’d be the one in heels up here, sheriff.”

“Ouch, sour Candy. You trying to hurt my feelings, girl?” Gator mocked hurt feelings, putting his hand over his heart.

“Were you trying to hurt mine?” She shot back.

“No. How about you make it up to me with a dance?”

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“Nah, I just dress like this for fun,” he hooked his thumbs into the bulky sheriff’s vest, showing it off.

“Won’t it be a bad look for your father?” It was true his father’s election was going to be up soon.

“He’ll be alright. You running out of excuses?” Gator checked.

“I could just say ‘no.’ If you don’t want to take a hint,” she condescended, and that just made him want her all the more. No way in hell was she gonna say ‘no’ to him. He had all the power he needed in the envelope, who would even notice if a couple of the hundreds were missing? Taking less than a second to decide he pulled out the envelope and started counting out the hundred dollar bills that he definitely should not be spending at a strip club.

“Are you deaf? Or just dumb?” Candy frowned, but as he continued to count them she changed her tune, “Holy smokes, where’d you get all that?”

He waved three hundreds at her, “How bout that dance?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling with the decision, but then she nodded in defeat, “Let’s go.” She hopped off the stage, and took his hand in her own. Her hand was trembling, until she squeezed him a little harder, and he pretended not to notice it. Pretended he was far too preoccupied with the way her ass swayed back and forth in her little white lace underwear.

In the private room there was one lone chair in the center with dark velvet couches surrounding it. As she stepped into the room her white undergarments turned dark red with the lights. She led him to the chair in the center of the room, shoving him down roughly. He made a show of it for her, collapsing into the chair even though he was barely moved from her hands pushing his chest, “Take it easy, baby.”

She ignored him, sliding her hands across his chest into his leather jacket, to slip it off, taking his vest with it. She hooked it on the back of the chair, which still left him in his bulky hoodie.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart,” he grinned as she walked in front of him again. He drank her in once again now that he had her all to himself. Her slim ankles wrapped in the white plastic straps of the clear high heels that were giving her an extra half foot at least. She looked a little unsteady as his gaze raked up the stockings, lingering on the smooth bare skin of her upper thigh. He imagined for a moment how her legs would wrap around him, how he’d grip her hips. The swell of her hips was accentuated as she took a small step toward him, shifting her weight. As his eyes moved up he found her chest rising and falling in quick breathes, her breasts spilling out of the wired corset cups on every intake. Her blush went all the way down her neck, and when his gaze flickered up to her eyes she cast hers to the floor.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he admonished half-heartedly, pleased with her little show of innocence. It was charming.

She took another deep breath, drawing his attention back down to her breasts once again, and unballed her fists, starting to undo the bottom of her corset top. He watched her struggle with the little wire clasps that ran up the front for a long minute before he finally huffed a little laugh, “You need a hand?”

She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and he wondered if it was more than just a show. Then she frowned and gritted, “Shut up.” And he knew it wasn’t. And that made his cock twitch in his pants. She finally got all the clasps undone and then tossed the offending garment on the couch beside her, unable to hide her pride at getting the damned thing off. She locked her arms in front of her, covering up her exposed nipples. He barely caught a glimpse of the pink skin. And then she seemed to realize what she had done and forced her arms behind her back, sticking out her chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” she finally confessed, but he had gathered that.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, “This might be the worst strip dance I’ve ever seen.”

That seemed to set something off in her. He was good at setting people off. Her cheeks were puffed out in anger as she slowly sank down to her knees, not bothering to hide her disgust at the old tile floors. And then she crawled on her hands and knees to him, swaying her hips and holding his stare like it was a challenge. He kicked his boots out on either side of him, making room for her between his thighs. Then he locked his fingers behind his head and reclined a little, the picture of unbothered, indifferent to her. And he saw exactly what he wanted. That angry determination swirling in those narrowed eyes as she let her cheek rest on his inner thigh.

She ran her hands up his shins, to the expanse of his muscular thighs. He felt the heat of her palm reach the bulge of his hardening cock, straining under his cargo pants. Her brow went up in accusation, “For the worst dance you’ve ever had, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“I’m easy,” he shrugged. Then her tongue was licking a stripe over the outline of his dick and his mouth fell open as he was unable to maintain his cool attitude toward the half naked woman between his legs. That had to be against the rules.

Before he could recover she was swinging her hips to the low vibrations of the bass that penetrated the room. She came up to her full height, giving him an eyeful of her breasts, making his mouth start salivating. Maybe he had just fallen for an act of innocence. Massaged them in his face, letting her head roll back as she let a small moan slip past her lips. His hands were moving on their own, in an attempt to assist her, when she slapped them away, “Hands by your side, deputy, or I’ll use your stupid cuffs on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out slow, gripping the sides of the chair to keep them there, but her threat just turned him on even more. Having her handcuff him sounded like a damn good time to him.

She swung one leg over his so her back was to him, and crawled down the slope of his leg, leaving her ass high in the air, and his hands squeezing the sides of the chair as she bounced a little on his leg. And then in time with music she was snapping back to sitting upright and grinding her hips just an inch above his thigh, letting him see that she was actually getting wet. Then she stepped out again, twisting to face him and kicked one of his boots so his legs came together before she sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair just enough to make his head lull back and seek her fingers. He hadn’t felt a touch like that in years, something intimate and gentle. Hell, if he knew a strip dance felt this good he would’ve started skimming money a long time ago, but he had a feeling it was just her making him feel this way.

She bit her lip, trying to contain a grin, and he felt like he was losing the game he had set up. But she made losing feel good.

Then the song switched from fast paced to a slow jam and she lit up, standing to dance in front of him once again. She was familiar with the song, mouthing the words as she ran her hands up her body and tangled them in her hair the way his hands wanted to. While she mouthed the explicit lyrics, he imagined her in his ear whispering filth only he would ever hear.

Her body rolled in time with the slow beat and she ran her hand down between her breasts, over her flat stomach and dipped between her legs for just a second before she pulled her hand back and ran her tongue over them, her tongue that was nearly on his dick when he had ticked her off. “You want a taste?” she asked, tilting her head curiously, and only then had he noticed his mouth had fallen open in want. He only nodded, sticking his tongue out as she stepped closer to him again with her outstretched hand. Her fingers were glossy from her spit as she brushed them gently over his upper lip, avoiding his tongue, and then pulled back, leaving him running his tongue along his lip trying to taste her. He thought maybe she was wearing some kind of strawberry chapstick as he savored a distant artificial sweetness.

He hummed his approval, and when he caught her eye again her pupils were blown wide. He could nearly see himself reflected in them. He was in a similar state. And then she stepped one leg between his and slowly lowered her hips onto his thigh, grinding on him in time with the music. Her skin was hot, like her entire body was blushing. It gave him goosebumps under his jacket where her warmth couldn’t reach.

And then she made a noise in the back of her throat that had him choking on the air in the room, which was suffocating him with a palpable heat. It wasn’t an over the top moan like from the porn he usually watched, it was a whine she had tried to hide but it slipped past her lips anyways. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life.

She bit her lip and looked at him apologetically, “Hah, sorry.” And the weight of her lifted up, before his hands flew out to stop her.

“No, don’t stop,” he lifted his knee in a jerk response, applying more pressure to her clit. He pulled and pushed her waist back and forth over his thigh, making her breath quicken. She was so sensitive, shaking like a leaf as he pushed his thigh up hard against her, with intention. He wanted to give her that friction which clearly affected her. His eyes traveled down her body to find a wet spot on his camouflage, “Gonna make a mess on my trousers, girl.”

She looked away in embarrassment as he looked up at her in awe. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned forward, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek. He was completely entranced in her glowing red face. He wanted to stop the anxious tremble of her lip, soothe her embarrassment away however he could. But he found no words, instead leaning in, and letting his eyes slip closed as he brushed his thumb down her bottom lip. He could feel her sharp intake of breath nearly against his mouth. He can’t remember wanting something as simple as a kiss with such an intensity before.

She shoved at his chest and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the edge of the couch. His head was spinning from the whiplash as he watched her catch her breath moving as far away from him as the couch would allow.

“No kissing the clients,” she finally spoke after a few beats of heavy breathing.

“No? Just everything else?” He joked a little, trying to recover his own breathing and will his raging erection to go away. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she started clipping the corset back on.

He stood and slid back into his leather jacket and vest, slicking his hair back which had gotten a little disheveled when she played with it earlier. Then she awkwardly put her hand out and he remembered what he had promised her for such a nice private dance and handed her three hundred, “That’s some technique for your first time.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she nodded, gripping the cash like he was going to snatch it back from her and run. She led him back out into the main room without so much as looking at him and then ran back to the locker rooms, still a little unsteady as his eyes followed her out.

“I’ve been waiting out here for nearly a half hour,” complained Henry, getting up from the bar when he saw Gator. He barely understood the words, too busy thinking about how there was no way in hell he could wait another two weeks to see her again. She gave him a high he knew he’d be hooked on until the day he died. He figured he’d be a married man and still jerk off to her.

“Boy! You hear me? When your daddy hears about you fucking around--” Henry started to threaten, finally pulling Gator’s attention away from the girl. The shove of the white envelope into Henry’s chest cut him off.

“My daddy ain’t gonna hear about it, unless you want me burning this money up and telling him you fucking backward ass hillbillies lost it,” he said it softly with a half smile, contrasting the shouting of the older man who got even angrier as he lost his power.

“We’ll see about that. Don’t make me wait while you’re getting your dick sucked. If you’re daddy don’t make you answer to him. I’ll make you answer to me. Understand, son?”

“Maybe if your wife was better at it you wouldn’t have had to wait so long,” Gator leaned into the man, his hand hovering over the gun in his thigh holster.

“Alright, your time's coming, boy. Your time’s coming.”

“Whatever you say, Henry,” Gator grinned at him, “I’ll see you later.” He waved himself out and hopped into his truck.

He reached for his vape in his pocket, taking a long drag reigniting the buzz in his head that was worked up in the back room of The Tender Trap. He was trying to remember the way her face looked when she moaned, but his memories weren’t coming out right. He needed to see her again. And soon enough he was hard again as he drove back to the Tillman Ranch. The road was lonely and dark that night as he started to touch himself.

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