SexyFox

There were other girls, and they were beautiful, but each time Elijah Moore walked into the gentlemen’s club, he found himself drawn to her. She was small and shapely, with long black hair and smooth, mahogany skin. Fox. He had seen her dance before, and she was stunning. On stage, circling the pole, she had looked right into him, and he had sat rapt, unmoving, enchanted.

He found a spot in the back of the club and ordered a gin and tonic. His body ached from practice; running up and down the field, tackling and being tackled. He was tired but exhilarated. He had come to the club tonight for one reason: to meet her, and when the DJ put on the new Kanye single, she stepped onto the stage in teal lace and satin. Slowly, deliberately, she pulled at the strings on her top and it fell away. She was lithe and strong, and she writhed around the pole and then onto the floor. Elijah felt a stirring inside him. He saw her look to the back of the room and for a moment, their eyes locked. When the music ended, she descended the steps and made her way to his table.

“I’m Fox,” she said, extending her hand.

He brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

“Elijah,” he said.

She studied his face, pale-skinned and freckled. It was almost the playoffs, and he had done interviews with the local sports commentators, but if she recognized him, she didn’t say anything. She stood above him, her hand was still in his, and he pulled her towards him. She lowered herself into his lap and he felt a wave of electricity run through his body. She had a slight overbite, and when she smiled he wanted to press his lips against hers, kiss her deeply. She held his biceps and moved her hips slowly, languidly. She gazed down into his eyes, and then tipped her head forward and let her hair cascade around her shoulders. He slid his hands up her thighs and squeezed; she tightened her legs around him. She leaned into him and encircled his neck with her arms. She was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. He moved his hands to her ribcage and spread his fingers wide so that his thumbs grazed her nipples.

“I have to see you later,” he said breathlessly, pulling a hotel room card from his pocket and pressing it into her hand.

“I’m staying at the Hyatt. Will you meet me there? After work?”

She stood and smiled and began to walk away.

“Yes,” she said, over her shoulder, “I will.”

He paid for his drink and hurried from the club. At the hotel he ordered up a bottle of Cristal and generously tipped the bellboy. Then he stretched out on the bed, hooked his arms behind his head, and waited.