Disclaimer: the characters and all recognizable situations belong to Stephanie Meyer - Last I looked I wasn't her... this story is a work of fan fiction, except for the legends and histories of the Quileute Nation which, of course, belong to them.
Beta'ed by the incredible Mrstrentreznor. Pre-read by the fantastic iamtwilightobsessed-MP and the amazing SparklingFae. Banner by the spectacular GoldenGirl at Printing Paws.
The Swan hooked her leg up on the silver column that ran from the ceiling to the floor and leaned back, spinning around. Her hair flew out behind her and she thrust her chest up, arching her spine. The cowboy hat that was part of her costume, fell backward and hung down her back. Her arm rose, snagging the tie and pulling it over her head. She dangled it off her finger and then she tossed it to the side.
She rose up and twirled around, with her back to the audience, keeping one hand on the pole and the other on her hip.
The arm stayed vertical until after she stopped and dropped down into a backbend. Long blonde hair swept the floor and she moved her head from left to right, swinging her hair around.
The beat of the music changed, and just like it had been choreographed, The Swan lifted herself up and whirled around again, this time reversing direction and moving forward.
She closed her eyes and let the low thrum of the music move through her body. It seemed as if her hips moved all by themselves. Her body rocked from side to side and then she undulated, her hips circling around and around.
She picked herself up, both feet leaving the ground and swirled, her arm and leg wrapped around the silver post. The Swan twisted both legs around the pole and then lifted her torso into the air and spun. One arm lifted her hair and then dropped it, letting it cascade down her back.
Hand over hand, she climbed up and then sat back and extended her legs in front of her. She pulsed her pelvis in time to the beat, the pole firmly in place between her thighs as she rocked on it. First one leg and then the other kicked out, before she straightened them both into a V, keeping the metal rod even with the crack of her ass. The Swan pumped her hips, pulled her legs down even with her body and wrapped her ankles one over the other.
And then she let go of the post with her hands altogether. Long arms extended above her head and she drifted downward, until they touched the floor. She kicked back with her legs and tumbled, feet over head and then into an upright position.
The dancer dropped down into the splits, and leaned forward, bringing her head down on the floor between her legs. This was the time that she always tried to engage the audience. She wanted every man there to feel as if it were a private dance, just for them. She skimmed over the yelling mass that pressed up against the stage.
First, she made eye contact with your average blonde hair, blue eyed, boy next door. The Swan stared at him and bit her lower lip. He waved a wad of cash around and tried to get her to come closer.
She glanced to his left and slightly behind him. She licked her lips when she met the gaze of a red headed, Howdie Dowdie type.
The woman danced over to where they were pushing up against the stage and turned her back to them, shaking her ass hard. She heard their cat calls and moans and she grinned a sultry little smile. She squatted down in front of them and looked over her shoulder.
She was rewarded with bills being shoved into the elastic of her underwear.
The Swan stood and looked around the area again. Her chest moved up and down with the thump of the beat and she kept my eyes in almost constant motion. There was the group of middle aged men that were out for a night without the wives. There were the typical frat boys and jocks, even a few groups that were on their bachelorette parties, and then the ones that were just there to chill. Mixed in with all of them, were the ones that came for an easy score, someone that they could fuck, someone that wouldn't ask questions.
She dropped to the floor and lay down on her stomach and stretched her legs out behind.
Her ass gleamed with sweat. She pumped it up into the air, then back down and them up again. It seemed to move almost of its own accord. She rolled over and pushed back into a standing position, danced her way to the pole and then twisted around it, keeping one hand on the metal column at a time. She turned so that her back was leaning against the steel post and did squats, slithering up and down with the pole centered in her back. She shifted position, spread her legs and then bent over and dropped her head between her spread thighs.
The Swan twisted again so that she was facing the metal beam and swirled her body around it. She lifted her legs and the momentum carried her around. One leg was out straight and the other was bent back, the post between her thigh and calf. She slowed down until she was almost on the floor, and then she straightened both legs out and landed in the splits. The dancer moved, one leg at a time, always staying in a splits position, lifting her body only enough to swing a leg forward, basically walking into the next spot.
The edge of the stage was right in front of her when she twisted around and pushed up. Her ass briefly hung over the men that were sitting there. She thrust it up and down a couple of times and then stood, reached long arms above her head and stretched. She knew that if she were to glance over her shoulder just then, she would see hands moving toward her, trying to touch. Of course that wasn't allowed, not unless you paid for a private dance and this dancer tended to avoid those.
She swayed from side to side, pushing her hips in different directions, and then she kicked off, her hands hit the floor and legs swinging over my head. She didn't lift up right away; instead, she extended her legs, one at a time perpendicular with her body. She kept my toes pointed while she bent and then straightened her knees. She took a deep breath in and with a slow, controlled movement; lowered her legs in an upside down splits, and then shifted her body until she was balanced on her hands. Her body came to rest on the floor, rocked back into a flip and then she stood, facing the audience.
Once again, she was up against the cold metal post. She breathed deep, knowing that the hardest part of the routine was coming up next. The Swan grabbed the cold rod and lifted her body, extended her legs on either side and then pulled them up and over her head. She was hanging upside down on the column on the stage. One at a time she bent and then extended her legs over and over until she reached the point in the song, where she could lift her torso and hug the pole. Her legs slid down until both feet were on the floor.
For a few seconds, she was granted a short respite. It didn't last long enough. With muscles screaming, she grabbed the post with both hands above her head, lifted again and for the second time, her legs rose until they were above her head. They twisted around the post and she let go with her hands, stretching out so that they would touch the floor first, and she let herself slide down. The tips of her fingers touched, followed quickly by her palms. She used her arms to walk outward, until she was lying on the floor with the post between my legs. The dancer rolled so that she was on her back, stretching one leg out while she moved around the post.
When she was flat on the stage, her chest lifted and at the same time she brought one leg up straight until her forehead touched her knee. She did this same move with the opposite leg and then lowered it down to the stage. The Swan leaned back, pushed her chest up and her head tilted backward. Right as the music ended, she pushed her body off the stage and held the position.
The crowd went wild. Her chest heaved and she tried to catch her breath. Seconds later, the lights dimmed and she slowly sank to the floor. Then she quickly got up and ran behind the curtain to change clothes.
It was scary as fuck to dance on a pole in nothing but a bra, and a matching pair of boy shorts. Back in the dressing room she had a fringe covered vest that she would put on. She even had a badge that pinned onto the front of the outfit. She snorted, she was supposed to be the new sheriff in town. She wasn't sure what it was about that particular look that the men liked but... oh well, it gave her some extra cash.
How on earth they ever agreed to let her fill in, she didn't know, but she loved it. It was empowering. The woman loved knowing that at this very minute, there was a room full of men all shifting in their seats, trying to ease their cocks into a more comfortable position.
What made it even better was that this was a part time gig, one that she was doing just to help her roommate out. Angela had been her best friend since sixth grade. When her dad had suffered a heart attack, Bella had offered to fill in for her at the club so that Angela wouldn't lose her job.
No one here would ever connect the stripper, The Swan, with the prim and proper Isabella Swan, English major. It was like living a double life, one where she could experiment with her exhibitionist nature. And damn but it paid; well at least it did most of the time. She plucked the ones, fives and tens from her thong and hid them in the secret compartment of her lipstick case. Just from the dance alone she had almost $300.00. And the night was still young.
She ripped off the mask that she wore and adjusted the blonde wig that was used as a disguise. The Swan had made it a condition of her employment. She slipped on the cowboy boots and vest that went with her outfit. She added a wide belt that sat low on her hips, a pair of holsters and two cap guns.
The entire ensemble looked like something you might find in the role playing section of any adult toy store.
She wasn't sure what men found sexy about a cowgirl, maybe it was the image they got of being ridden? She would remember that snarky little thought. She might could put a twist on it later on, it might help her get more in tips.
Bella ran the brush through her fake hair, coated her lips with a fresh coat of lipstick and grabbed the tray. Before the next act was over, the dancer was headed out the door, ready to hit the floor and earn some more money.
In the back of the room, up against the bar, three men stood and watched the show.
"So what do you think? I told you she was amazing, didn't I?" Embry smirked.
"Yeah man, you really did. Do you have any idea who she is?" Seth asked.
"None, but I'd love to tap that fine piece of ass."
"She's wearing a mask; it might not be easy to find her."
"Too bad it's so smoky and crowded in here. It would be simple to tell otherwise, all we need is her scent." Paul responded.
Seth nodded. "I'll just look for the blonde with the killer legs."
"Damn, look at that ass." Embry smirked. "I'd like to get in on that action." He reached his hand down and adjusted himself.
On the stage, the woman in question was bouncing her butt up and down, the rounded appendage hanging over the edge, up above the fawning men on the floor.
Paul watched as she moved from side to side and then did a handstand, kicking her legs up and down in the air.
In a slow, controlled movement, she brought her legs down and balanced on her hands with them out to either side, then she lowered them to the floor, did a backflip and stood, her back to the silver post.
She flipped herself on the pole so that she was hanging upside down and for just a brief second, their eyes met. For Paul, it was a life changing experience. For the girl on the pole, nothing changed. In fact, from where she was, with the lights shining in her eyes, she couldn't even see most of the men in the room, just a few around the stage.
Her hands touched the stage and she moved her arms, her body sliding down the pole until she was on the floor. She rolled over to her back and then, just as the music ended, she lifted off the floor and her head hung back. She held the pose as the lights dimmed and then turned off in her area. The curtain closed and a spotlight in a different section of the room turned on, causing most of the mens eyes to turn in that direction.
But not his.
Paul stared as she hopped up off the floor and ran to the back of the stage. He glanced around the room and then headed for the door that led to the dressing rooms.
Seth and Embry watched as their friend headed off in the opposite direction than they had expected. They looked at each other and Embry shrugged, then started to walk across to the floor to the area where the next dancer was performing.
Seth watched Embry walk away. He glanced at Paul and then turned and followed Embry to the other side of the room. He didn't know what Paul was up to, but somehow he just knew that the petite dancer was going to be involved.
It didn't take Paul long to find the door that led to the backstage area. He entered the darkened hallway and looked around, took a deep breath and filtered out the scents of alcohol, smoke and sweat. Underneath the others, was the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and vanilla with just a touch of sandalwood? It gave him an instant erection and he knew that it was her; this scent belonged to her, his mate, his imprint.
He stalked down the long corridor¸ following the delectable odor until he came to a closed door, and then he stopped and stood there.
He didn't have to wait long. Slight footsteps sounded across the floor growing slightly louder as they reached the door, the knob turned and a small brunette barreled into him
He reached out, almost by instinct, just to keep her from falling. "Whoa now, you alright?"
A tell-tell stain graced her cheeks. "Uh… yeah, thanks for that, for uh… keeping me from falling on my ass that is." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her hands fisted tightly at her sides.
"Well uh… I've got to get to work, so uh… yeah…" She bent over and picked up her tray, giving Paul a stimulating view of her ass, and then she started to walk away.
"Wait," he called out.
She turned to look at him and for the second time that night, he lost his heart in a pair of deep brown eyes. And he couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to see exactly what she tasted like.
He slowly, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers.
The Swan was shocked. She wasn't used to having men turn up outside her dressing room door, kissing her. It took her a moment to respond, but when she did, even she was surprised by what happened.
She was lost in a flood of sensation. His taste was as addictive to her as the most controlled substance. His feel was the most powerful aphrodisiac that she had ever encountered. Instant need overwhelmed her senses.
Her hands dropped the tray once again and rose to tangle in his short dark hair. As her head tilted back, the cowboy hat fell to the floor beside them.
Paul pulled her closer and savored the sweet surrender. Her lips molded themselves against his and she sighed when his tongue slid effortlessly inside her mouth.
He had heard his pack mates talk about how much better it was when you were with your imprint, and now, for the first time, he finally understood exactly what they were talking about. Kissing her was just, it was just wow!
For the dancer, the kiss was different than any she had ever experienced. He was hot, as in fever hot. And it felt good, real good. She leaned into him and pressed her body up against him. And he took control.
Paul shifted his arms so that he could hold her tightly up against his body and then he deepened the kiss. His tongue searched out and tasted every surface of her mouth, skimming over her teeth and then danced with her tongue.
He memorized the feel of her, the way she tasted, the sounds that she made. They all worked together to create an experience unlike any he had known, and he had known a lot.
Bella didn't know when or how she had gotten pushed up against the wall. In truth, she didn't care. She wasn't aware of much of anything except his hands moving around her body and his lips trailing fire down the side of her neck.
Three kisses. That was all it had taken for them to lose all sense of where they were and become solely focused on each other.
His hands worked their way up her sides, skimmed across her breast and then pulled the material down so that her chest was fully exposed.
A warm mouth covered her nipple and she gasped and arched into him. Her hands wrapping themselves in his hair as she struggled to keep him close to her.
He stood and picked her up so that her chest was even with his mouth. Her legs fastened themselves around his waist and much like she had worked the pole earlier, she now used him. She humped and grinded and she desperately sought friction right where she most wanted it.
A loud crash sounded at the start of the hallway and Bella jumped, startled. She pushed against his head. "Wait… stop."
Instantly, Paul released her, setting her feet on the floor and keeping her steady as she cleared her head.
Awkward silence stretched out between them.
"I uh... I really need to get back to work." She shuffled around, righting her clothes and finger combing her hair.
"Sure," he replied. He looked her over and smirked. "You look beautiful."
Her cheeks turned red. "Thanks."
"So uh... I'll be around, alright? Will you talk to me when your shift is finished?"
"Yeah, I guess so." She picked up her tray and hat, and then turned and walked toward the busy bar.
For the next few hours, Paul watched while she picked up empty glasses and brought out more drinks. She smiled, she flirted and she utterly captivated the men in her section. He saw men tucking bills into her cleavage and into the waistband of the belt that went with her costume.
Twice more he had to endure the cat calls and whistles when she took to the stage and danced. Each one seemed more provocative and sultry than the one previous.
He had mixed emotions. On the one hand, he liked knowing that once they were together, he would be the envy of many different men. After all, his imprint was fucking hot! On the other hand though, he didn't like knowing that so many people had seen her almost naked form. And how many of her patrons had she entertained like she almost had him? He hadn't smelled any other men on her, but that could have been because she just hadn't gotten the chance that evening.
He frowned. That would stop. He would make sure that she was happy from now on. He wouldn't be giving her a reason to ever seek out companionship from someone else. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he knew how to please a woman.
He chuckled. His lovely dancer would be aware of that soon.
She was aware of his eyes, following her around the room. It made her nervous. Aside from what had happened between them earlier, she had never had any sort of relations with anyone from work. She enjoyed the money she made dancing, but she had never sold herself. Oh, she'd had offers, a lot of offers, but she had never accepted, and she didn't intend to start today.
Last call came and went and the three men were asked to leave. They walked outside, Embry and Seth walking to the truck, Paul hanging back to wait by the door.
Seth turned and looked over his shoulder. "Paul, dude, you coming?"
"Soon, I've got a lovely lady to wait for."
Embry walked back to his friend. "Really… the dancer?" He whistled lowly. "What's her name?"
"Uhhh…" Paul chuckled and shook his head. "I never asked."
"You imprinted, didn't you?" Seth confirmed.
"And you don't even know her name?" Embry asked.
"I'll know it soon enough."
Inside, like the others, Bella busied herself picking up glasses and the occasional empty plate. She helped set the dressing room to rights and she got dressed in her regular street clothes. She pulled off the blonde wig and pushed it down inside her bag. And then following the others, she snuck out the back door and into a co-workers car. She felt bad, knowing that the man was probably waiting out front, but she hadn't actually agreed to meet with him, and it was scary, the way he made her feel. She'd never completely forgotten herself or where she was before. She didn't even know his name!
In front, the three men waited, and waited and then finally, the bartender and manager came outside.
"Have the dancer's left?" Embry asked. "I was supposed to stay and give my step-sister a ride home."
"Huh… they all left out the back about twenty minutes ago. You sure your sister was waiting for a ride or maybe you were just waiting for something else?"
"Chill man, my step-sister, she's the dancer that everyone knows as The Swan. You know, long blonde hair and endless legs."
"If she were really your sister you would have known what color her hair really is. That blonde stuff, it's a wig." The two guys ignored the three wolves that were no longer calmly waiting. The made their way down the block and disappeared.
"Fuck!" Paul exclaimed, his body slightly shaking. He was pacing back and forth in front of the building, his hands buried in his hair as he fought to keep control.
"Dude, stay calm," Seth muttered. "We'll find her."
"I don't even know her name." Paul commented again.
"I know, but we will find her."
"Fucking hell, why didn't I ask her name?" His hands gripped his hair in frustration.
"Seriously man," Embry said. "Keep control. We can come back tonight and this time you can find out her name."
"Yeah, I can do that. Come back tonight."
In the back seat of the car, over five miles away, Isabella Swan finally sat up. She absently rubbed at an ache in her chest while she thought about the man she had encountered in the hallway. She wondered, briefly, what it would have been like if she had met him. She scoffed, she was probably over reacting. She was certain that he hadn't actually been out front waiting. That was silly. A guy that hot, he could have had anyone. She'd done the right thing by leaving, she was certain.