Her Predator

Meeting the devil

Natalia

I felt his arm tighten over me, reminding me of my place. I stared down with contempt at this man's limb around my waist. I was no longer a vulnerable 15-year-old. All of these men were the same—old asses seeking women half their age and impressing them with ill-gotten money. Tonight was the night I finally performed my first lap dance. Hopefully, it won't be as horrible as it sounded.

"How about we go somewhere more private?" Said the rich snob to me.

I knew what he was getting at, so I just disregarded it.

"Mr Cameron, your time is up. And I don't do anything more personal than this," I muttered as I moved away from him.

I felt disgusted as I walked out of the VIP room.

***************

In the enormous vanity mirror, I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup.

"You are next Nat, let's go!" As he made his way among the hustling half-naked women backstage, Rocco cried out.

"All right, I'm coming!" I returned the call as I reached for my trench coat on the coat rack.

He said, "You're giving a private dance in room 4."

"What's this, a private dance? Again? Can't Candy do it ?" I inquired.

"I understand, but these are highly wealthy and influential patrons." He put his hand on my cheek and patted it. "Aren't you in desperate need of cash?"

I sighed deeply and rolled my eyes.

************

Alessandro

Slow, seductive music played in the background as the space was softly illuminated. Pink velvet adorned the walls, with pink fabric flowing in waves from the ceiling. A luxurious couch was positioned against the far wall, facing the curtained entryway. I couldn't believe it when I found out a hooker was impersonating my girlfriend! I could have pulled her out and skinned her alive, but what fun would that have been? It would be more pleasing for me to play with her for a while.

I sat alone on the sofa, eager to get things over with. I was certain the dancer would be a stunning blonde stripper of some sort. The scent of a naked lady, s*x, testosterone, and perfume filled the room. It was completely revolting. There's a reason I don't go to some of my lesser clubs very often. Perhaps I should rip it up and replace it with something more elegant.

Suddenly, the curtain parted, revealing a woman in the doorway. My gaze was drawn to the beauty in front of me. I started with her painted toes, which were encased in red "f**k me" stilettos, and followed the map of her pale skin. My gaze moved from her long, toned calves to her strong thighs, halting at her scarlet hotpants with black lace edging. Her abdomen contracted as she swayed her hips back and forth like a pendulum. She walked seductively towards me. Her breasts were covered in red and black lace triangles, yet there was enough skin visible to glimpse the precise curve of those alluring mounds. Her long neck gave way to an angular face with high cheekbones, luscious lips, and green eyes hidden under arched brows. Her dark brown roots could be seen coming out from beneath the blonde bob wig she was wearing. I imagined how long her real hair was, how it felt, and how she would scream if I tugged on it while in the throes of passion. I could see she was a natural beauty beneath the layers of make-up.

I shook my head, recalling that I wasn't here for that. She took two more big strides before straddling my legs. She sat on my lap after parting her legs and carefully winding her hips down.

"Master, I am Lily, what would you like to do?" She said in a sexy tone.

I made an effort not to roll my eyes. It was a stage name, of course. She smirked as she pushed forwards and pressed her breasts into my chest, her hands on my shoulders. She pressed her lips to my ear and remained there, moving her hips to the beat.

As she twisted and twerked her body on me, tantalising every nerve ending, I groaned.

I put my hands on her thighs and squeezed them. As I gripped her thighs and twisted her hips, I heard her gasp.

My c**k twitched and shook. What kind of effect did she have on me? It was all too easy to visualise her passion beneath the sheets thanks to her dance. Aside from that, the sight of a beautiful woman never failed to arouse me.

She stroked her fingers down my chest till they reached my stomach. When I put my fingers around her wrists, she jumped.

"Cara, you're going to make me lose it," I said softly.

Neither of us moved for a moment. My fingertips moved slowly down her sides, feeling her smooth flesh. I could tell she was an amateur because her discomfort was palpable.

She abruptly slammed her palms on top of my hand, halting my fingers. She instantly brushed my hands away and stood up.

She whispered, her eyes wide with humiliation, "I'm sorry, that is unprofessional." She averted her gaze from me.

"I don't mind being unprofessional," I said, smiling. It was time to have some fun.

I took out my wallet and took out several 500 bills. I could feel her tremble and see her eyes squint as she saw the money. This was far too simple. She turned away quickly.

I approached her from behind, my hands on her naked waist. Her breathing became more rapid. I pushed some cash into her pants.

"This does not have to be the end." I felt like a man possessed. I hadn't approached a dancer since I was 18 when I took over my father's business. I was young and immature at the time, eager to show off my wealth and express my power.

"Excuse me?" She said.

I almost felt lost in those eyes when she turned to face me.

"I am a very wealthy man. I'd like to make it count if you accompany me home tonight."

I smirked as I noticed her eyeing the cash. I had a feeling she'd fall for it. But what occurred next caught me off guard. My cheeks stung as she slapped me. The b***h dared to slap me!

"You jerk, I'm a stripper, not a f*****g hooker!"

With that enraged expression on her face, she took a step back. My shock and disbelief were quickly replaced by rage. I'd never been rejected by a woman before. I looked good and I knew it. I couldn't let this mystery woman get away after insulting me. Usually, any other woman would have jumped at this opportunity, but she was different. I snatched her wrist and turned her to face me.

"What..." Her eyes widened in surprise. With my body, I pinned her against the wall, preventing her from fleeing. I held back a groan as her barely-clothed flesh rustled against me. I tightened my grip on her.

"Let me go! You can't touch me!" She locked her gaze on me.

"Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do? Shout? You can scream all you want, but no one will come to your aid?"

She glared at me with utter contempt.

"Come on, I want to hear your scream," I said.

As she tried to shove me away, her fury was replaced by panic.

"Rocco! I need help !" Looking at the VIP door, she yelled.

"No one's going to come for your love," I said, relishing her terror and anguish.

"I don't assault or kill women. That's not to say I wouldn't torture her in other ways. In ways that would make her wish I had treated her like the men who had crossed me instead."

"Let me go!" She screamed as I tightened my grip to make sure she couldn't get out.

"Cara, you have been a bad girl. I'm about to demonstrate what happenes when you're bad."

"What do you want?" She inquired, her voice cracking.

I locked my gaze on her, taking in her terrified expression. These club girls were used to flinging themselves at me. Drunk, noisy, promiscuous chicks, all looking for a guy like me to take care of them for the rest of their lives. But she seemed different. It added to the amusement of the situation.

"Isn't it too bad you didn't recognise your boyfriend?" I stated.

She was perplexed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Does Alessandro Costello ring a bell ?" I asked.

She stopped struggling and stared at me open-mouthed, her eyes bulging with surprise.

"Alessandro Costello?" She muttered.

"That's me," I suppressed a grin. This entire situation was hilarious.