Isn't it? She doesn't know what I do. All this money's source.
Arcadia's eyes widen as I inform her, "I own the strip club you used to work at." "I own the club where we met in the taxi."
"A strip club?" Asks Arcadia.
"Besides," I say. "My dad was big in s*x"
"If you owned the club," she says, approaching. Why didn't I dance?
Arcadia softly pulls me back and I settle in the leather chair next to the video call display.
Arcadia cranks up her phone's music.
At 7:47 am, the sexiest lady I've ever encountered is giving me a lap dance.
Arcadia turns her back to me and removes my shirt, exposing her back.
Her toned behind jumps as she shifts weight.
She's not a stripper. Her tanned skin doesn't show neon evenings, and her face is fresh and honest. She doesn't appear like a product desi
