Confessions of a Lapdancer. Литагент HarperCollins USD

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      Sometimes I miss the texture of real cock inside me. But a girl’s got to play safe.

      Straddling him, I lowered myself on to his shaft, achingly slowly, until my bum was resting on his rock-hard thighs.

      Maybe there is something to be said for rugby after all.

      Rocking backwards and forwards and side to side, gripping his cock with my pelvic muscles, I waited until I found a rhythm that produced the most intense pleasure.

      God, I loved being fucked – and I loved being in the driving seat while I was doing it. As I pumped him in and out of my pussy, my whole belly warmed and tingled as I allowed myself to start down the road to orgasm.

      Our breathing came hard and heavy, every muscle taut. Sensing how he was getting too close – I wasn’t ready yet, not nearly ready – I loosened my pelvic grip. Just a little, just enough. Give the boy a breather, hey? He moaned and thrashed around beneath me. And just as I started up again, ready to really get the momentum going this time, I heard a sharp intake of breath and the sudden spasm of his cock inside me. Fuck!

      After a series of weakening thrusts, he rested his head against my breasts.

      ‘Geri, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I tried to hold back … you know I can satisfy you. It won’t take me long to recover, let’s do it again …’

      As we both lay there, panting, I just wished to God I could find a man who could control himself. And me. Handsome boys like Ryan were too easy for me to trample underfoot. He reached out to hug me, but I pushed him away.

      ‘Not now, Ryan,’ I said. ‘I just want to sleep now.’

      I was worn out, tired by the day, by the role play, by my life …

      ‘Are you OK, Geri? What’s wrong?’ he asked.

      ‘Nothing you can put right, Ryan,’ I told him. ‘You don’t have to – you’re not my boyfriend.’

      ‘Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care,’ he said.

      ‘Thanks, I appreciate that. But really, you can’t help. Now, please, let me get some shut-eye …’

      He kissed my forehead and rolled over. ‘OK, sweetie. You are one hot woman, do you know that? Goodnight then.’

      Ryan was a nice guy, and sweet enough when he was away from work and the influence of his buddies, but simply not man enough for me.

      It had been an incredible night, the implications of which had not yet sunk in. I soon sunk into a fractured sleep, with images of the evening drifting in and out of strange dreams.

      When Ryan’s alarm went off early the next morning I hardly felt rested at all. I shunned his sleepy advances and quickly washed and dressed before he was even out of bed.

      ‘See you at work,’ I laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

      With that I shut the door behind me and made my way down the stairs.

      I was just lifting my arm to hail a cab on the main road, when I thought to check in my beloved Prada handbag to make sure my purse was there. It wasn’t. I knew I hadn’t taken it out at Ryan’s so I must have dropped it at the club. There was no way, after that exit, that I was going to go back and knock on Ryan’s door, so I decided to bite the bullet and take the walk of shame home to Greenwich. Thank God my keys were in my pocket.

      It gave me a chance to reflect. On the one hand I was proud of myself that I’d pulled off such a performance last night – but on the other I was concerned at the fallout I might experience at the office. Had I overstepped the mark? Would Luke make my life even more difficult now, or had my bravura performance shut him up for the time being?

      After a quick shower and change of clothes, I headed straight to work. Before cancelling all my cards I called the Pearl, hoping against hope that my purse might have been handed in.

      ‘Hi, my name’s Geraldine Carson,’ I told the woman who answered. ‘I’ve reason to believe a black leather Prada wallet might have been handed in at the Pearl last night.’

      ‘Oh yes, Miss Carson,’ she said. ‘Your business card was inside so we were going to call you later this morning anyway. And if you don’t mind me saying, I enjoyed your show last night.’

      ‘You saw me dance?’ I asked, blushing. ‘Well, thanks, I appreciate the compliment. I’ll be in later to collect the purse.’

      How funny that a girl who worked at a lap-dancing club – who was possibly a dancer herself – thought I’d done a good job!

      I allowed myself a few moments of metaphorical back-slapping before getting my brain in gear for the day ahead. This wasn’t any old day – this was Bonus Day.

      Shit, I thought. I hope to God I get what I’ve budgeted for. If not, they’ll be repossessing my home and I’ll be shacking up at the stables.

      That’s the problem with working for an investment bank. Last night I was flashing £50 notes around like they were pound coins. And three months ago, I was overextending myself on a mortgage on a riverside apartment that was dependent on one hell of a bonus. Not to mention the fact that Zeus was a total drain on my finances, even if I couldn’t bear to give him up. But, what the hell, I’d worked hard for it. And what’s life without some risk? Until last night, it had been so long since I’d taken one, I’d forgotten what it felt like.

      And with that, the focused, determined, ball-breaking version of Geraldine Carson with whom I was so familiar donned her armour and went into battle.

      Chapter Four

      I didn’t like the look of pity on Tania’s face when I walked into the office.

      ‘Geri, Daryll asked to see you about ten minutes ago,’ she said. ‘I covered for you but I think you should go straight away.’

      ‘Really, Tania? If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,’ I said, smiling sweetly.

      I could feel myself losing my cool but had to hold it together for the meeting with Daryll. God knows what he was going to say about the incident at the Pearl.

      He saw me approaching and smiled in that annoyingly paternal way of his. ‘Geraldine, my dear. Do come in and sit down. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

      ‘No thanks, Daryll. You’d better just say what you think of me,’ I said, preparing myself for the worst.

      ‘What I think of you?’ he repeated. ‘Let me tell you something, Geraldine. When I was a naïve young man on the dealing floor, there was such a thing as an initiation ceremony. My colleagues took me out to a strip club, where a lady of the night stripped me down to my underwear as she removed her own clothing. I was utterly humiliated and obviously the butt of my colleagues’ jokes for some time.

      ‘What you did at the club last night, my dear, was to turn the initiation on its head. Almost literally, when you did that extraordinary move on the pole. Geraldine, after all your time here, you finally initiated yourself into the Brothers. Well done,’ he laughed.

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