Dance for the Billionaire

By: Jewel Moore

Disappointment flooded Chantelle. She knew that a few of the dancers occasionally had private dates with select club members—Colin was aware of it, but ignored the practice once nothing occurred on his property—but she would never sleep with a man for money.

She had wanted to make the lap dance memorable for the client, had been willing to stretch Colin’s rules but stay within their boundaries. He would never know how grateful she would always be to him.

But she wasn’t that grateful!

“Most men seem to think that the words stripper and prostitute are synonymous. I was mistaken in thinking that you were intelligent enough to know the difference,” she told him scornfully, abruptly swinging her right leg up and over, narrowly missing his arrogant head. Standing, she glared down at him and snapped, “Look up the meaning in a frigging dictionary.”

Whirling, she raced out of the room, only stopping to grab her handbag and robe before slamming the door behind her. Then turning left, she headed to the back door.

It was hard to walk away from the money she had earned tonight although it was a paltry sum compared to the amount she had in the handbag clutched at her side. Tomorrow she would call Colin to let him know that she wouldn’t be returning. And she would forfeit the night’s wages—a small price to pay for his generosity. Technically she didn’t need that money now and though there would no doubt come a day when she would regret not collecting them, she was certainly not going to wait around!


Dominic took a moment to bring his body under control before he left the private room.

He cursed as he almost stumbled in the now-darkened club.

The dancer on stage was using the lights as an effect, so they’d been dimmed further to enhance her act. Glancing left and then right, he saw no sign of the dancer who had given him the lap dance. As skimpily dressed as she was, she would have to get changed first, he decided, and rushed to the exit. He would be waiting when she left the club.

He dialed Alvin’s mobile number as soon as he was outside and instructed, “Pick me up at the entrance.”

Alvin came speeding around the corner moments later. He was more suited to a race track, Dominic always thought, but he wasn’t about to let a brilliant, safe driver out of his employ. He paid the man more than double what he would have received elsewhere, which may him less likely to try out as a stunt car, or racing, driver.

“Did you see a woman leave the club?” he asked the driver as he jumped in the car besides him—this wasn’t the time to stand on formality and get in the back. If by chance she’d left the club, he needed to start pursuit immediately.

“A tall black woman?” Alvin queried as he swung the car around to the exit.

“Yes,” Dominic confirmed, banging his fist on the beautiful, wooden inlaid dashboard in front of him. “Where did she go?”

“She just swung out of here in a Ford Escort, boss.”

Alvin knew the brown envelope contained cash—it wasn’t the first time the man had conveyed money to Dominic from his butler. Dominic knew that the driver would immediately jump to the wrong conclusion, but there was no time to explain. He ordered, “Follow her!”

Alvin immediately gunned the engine.

“Faster!” Dominic ordered.

“She raced out of here, boss.” The driver obediently accelerated, but he shook his head ruefully. “I don’t think we’ll catch her.”

“We have to.”

“Yes, boss.”

Dominic fumed as they raced along the quiet road. He would have been faster in his Lamborghini, even if it meant breaking the speed limit. Damn his wayward cock! He usually had more finesse than he had displayed tonight. But the thought of her writhing under him, those long legs wrapped around his waist as he buried himself deep within her had destroyed his customary style.

They came to a major intersection and Alvin said apologetically, “Sorry, boss, I think she’s gone.”

Dominic cursed again, this time aloud. He’d envisioned the night ending somewhat differently—with the two of them making love in the back of the limousine and several times more when he got her to his place. Now, all he could do is go home and imagine it was her tightness, instead of his hand, wrapped around him as he jerked himself off. There were a dozen or more women he could call and all would be willing for him to come over and warm their bed, but no other women would do tonight.


Chantelle reached under her pillow and ran her fingertips over the edges of the envelopes that would radically change her life.

Nothing in the way the night had begun had prepared her for the way it had ended. When she noticed the man and had had the strange reaction as their eyes had connected, she had dismissed it as one of those strange, freaky moments in life.

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