Liza is a twenty five year old inexperienced girl raised in a God-fearing home. She has healthy goals and great friends. There’s one thing missing in her life: a man. Up until now, she’s lived her life by-the-book. When she learns she has three weeks left to live, everything changes. Suddenly she finds herself dating, having sex, and entertaining at her roommate’s lingerie parties. It seems now that she’s dying, she wants to live life in the fast lane.
Ethan, a hot-blooded cop, takes a liking to her. When the rules change, Liza begins seeing life differently. Suddenly, her final days look like nothing she could imagine…and Ethan becomes more than just a plaything. How can she tell him the truth? And more important…will she have to?
Sex and Nudity: yes
Offensive Language: minor
Clean erotic romance; strictly male and female consensual relationships.
Liza watched her roommate Brenda straddle Mr. January on the dance floor. His toned body was glistening with…what? Sweat? Water? Maybe it’s oil. She looked closer, examining his biceps and the six-pack below his erect, just-begging-to-be-caressed nipples. Brenda slid down the length of his thigh muscle…ah, it’s definitely oil.
Catching Mr. January’s glance, he winked at Liza. She blushed and looked the other way, toward the birthday girl, Tara, who was at the bar ordering another round, swaying slightly. Liza wondered if she should join her, but noticed one of the other strippers approaching Tara, who was wearing a “____Me, It’s My Birthday” banner across her body, like at a Miss Universe Pageant. Some of the girls had filled in the blank with very naughty suggestions written in black marker.
Mr. December approached Liza, sitting alone at their table. He was wearing a red Santa hat, drooping to the left, and red silk bikini underwear lined with white fur. Each of the strippers represented a month of the year. Mr. November started his show wearing a military outfit to depict Remembrance Day and then stripped down to a turkey-themed thong for Thanksgiving. Mr. February of course, wore very little, but all in a heart motif, and so on.
Liza looked at Mr. December, whose deep blue eyes contrasted with the red in his outfit, making them mesmerizing. He had long eyelashes and a chiselled, John Travolta-like chin. She smiled warily and glanced at her drink, which was empty, and hoped the woman serving cocktails would notice and interrupt whatever exchange Mr. December was interested in having with her.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” he assured, taking a seat next to her in the banquette-style table. “Is this your first time at a strip club?” he asked, giving her a million-dollar smile.
“What gave it away?” She smiled, looking down. Liza couldn’t help noticing how intoxicating he smelled; very musky; tasteful and light, not potent like some other colognes. His arm rested above her head, “You’re the only one sitting.” He gestured to the dance floor. “Everyone else is having fun dancing and drinking.”
“I’m not used to dancing with half-naked men,” she explained, shouting above the music.
He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
She watched him walk away. The muscles in his rear end tightened with each step. Her breathing hitched. Did he say he was coming back? Part of her wanted to attack him, kiss every inch of his toned body, squeeze his ass, and suck on his please-come-to-me nipples. The other part wanted to crawl into a corner and pull out the romance novel she kept in her purse and read silently and safely…alone.
Brenda called from the dance floor, “Liza! Oh, Liza, you gotta see Mr. November!” She laughed, breathlessly. “I felt his giblets!” Liza giggled and noticed the stripper with the turkey-themed thong. Mr. November danced seductively in front of Brenda as she placed a bill in his g-string. Liza watched him move and felt a pull deep in her belly. He gently pulled Brenda toward him, her back to his front, and ground his body onto her behind. Brenda reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes closed.
The woman serving cocktails swung by Liza’s table. Liza wondered if she should get another drink, or escape now while she had the chance. She spied Mr. December approaching her table in a pair of butt-hugging black jeans and a white linen shirt. Her heart began to beat faster and she impulsively took the drink being offered to her and downed it in one gulp.
“Remember me?” Mr. December asked, standing in front of the table. His arms were crossed on his chest, biceps bulging from his shirt sleeves. “You mind if I sit here?”
“Sure.” Liza scooted over.
“My name’s Stuart.” He offered his hand for her to shake. Liza reluctantly shook it and felt every nerve in her body quake at the warmth of his touch. “Liza,” she said, looking quickly in his eyes.
“I thought you’d feel more comfortable talking if I had some clothes on,” he said, pulling his right leg over his left knee. Stuart’s hair was short, curly and blonde. He had beach hair.
Liza wondered why he wanted to talk to her. As though reading her mind, he said, “I used to be shy, too—if you can believe it.”
She looked at him through her lashes, “How’d you get past it?”
“I got sick a little while ago,” he explained. “I’m fine now, but in the meantime I decided life’s too short to hide. I only do this to put myself through law school.” He wiped an imaginary line on his lips with his index finger and thumb. “A bunch of the girls I hang around with told me I should do this to pay the bills for now.”
Liza looked up at him, intrigued. “How do you like it?”
“It’s alright, I guess.” He smiled shyly. “All the girls get to be a bit much sometimes.” He looked at Liza’s lips and said pointedly, “It’s nice when I meet a quiet one.”
Liza caught his glance and looked down at his lips, feeling her pulse in her ears. “You don’t have a girlfriend?” she asked, almost breathlessly.
“No time,” he explained. “But I’d make time if I found someone special.”
Feeling the last swig of alcohol hit her blood stream, Liza visibly relaxed and allowed her eyes to remain at his lips.
“You wanna dance?” he asked, looking from her lips to her eyes then back again.
Normally she’d decline, but the thought of his rippled body against hers, combined with the fuzzy feeling the alcohol had created, she couldn’t say no. She didn’t answer, but rose and held her hand out for him. He grasped it and softly ran his thumb down the inside of her palm, sending delicious shivers down her spine.
As if on cue, the song changed to a slow, eighties-style ballad. Some of the women left the floor, thankful for the change of pace. A few stayed and danced with the remaining strippers. Liza and Stuart looked like a normal couple dancing together. He placed his hands on her waist and she put her arms on his shoulders. For a moment, they were far apart and not making contact. Liza exhaled.
As they danced, Stuart looked at her; she was slightly shorter than him. “So what do you do for a living?” he asked.
“I work for an accountant. I’m an assistant,” she said, allowing him to move closer to her. They were almost touching. Every few beats, their knees gently made contact.
“Is that your friend?” he nodded towards Tara, who was dancing with Mr. October.
“Yeah, it’s her birthday.” Then she smiled, feeling silly as she remembered the banner Tara was wearing. “I guess you figured that out.”
“Your other friend…she knows how to party apparently.” He nodded towards Brenda and Mr. November. She had her hands on his ass and he had his face in between her breasts. His g-string was full of bills—it looked like a small palm tree had been tucked in there—bobbing with his every move.
“That she does,” Liza giggled. “I live with her, so I’m used to it.”
“And she hasn’t rubbed off on you?” Stuart asked, slowly tracing his index finger along her jaw line.
“Well…I’m here, aren’t I?” Liza whispered, looking into his eyes as if in a dream.
“I’m glad,” he whispered. Stuart’s arms wrapped around Liza’s waist, bringing her against him. She extended her arms around his neck as he nestled his face into her neck. Liza could feel him breathing seductively on her exposed skin, and then planting gentle kisses. Her pulse quickened and she was suddenly conscious that he could feel it.
“I’m not making you nervous, am I?” he asked. “Because if you want me to stop, just say so and I will.” His voice was even, but reassuring.
Liza said nothing. She enjoyed his lips and then tongue against her neck; slow, soft, like feathers, kissing her. Her eyes closed instinctively—the feeling was exquisite.
When he reached the bottom of her ear, her mouth opened naturally and she bent back slightly, so that they were face to face. His nose rubbed hers in an Eskimo-like kiss. Her eyes remained closed, locked in his spell. Liza burrowed her fingers into his hair, feeling its softness. She opened her eyes and observed him enjoying her touch. Stuart’s eyes were closed and he rubbed his nose against hers again and slowly, seductively, caressed her ass.
The song was almost over and although she was dying to feel his sensual lips on hers, she was painfully shy to make the first move. Is it too forward to ask? She lifted her head slowly, so they made eye contact, and just as the song ended, he looked at her with dilated pupils and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. Although she enjoyed the kiss, in the back of her mind Liza was walking away, stomping like a spoiled child, disappointed that she didn’t get the chance to kiss him deeper, the way they did in the movies.
As the music reverted back to faster, disco-style tunes, Stuart took Liza’s hand and directed her back to the table. He motioned to the bartender and the cocktail girl walked by, bringing them each a drink. “I think Mr. August is next. All the girls will go berserk when they see him,” Stuart said, clinking his beer against Liza’s cocktail glass.
“Why? Does he do something particularly naughty?” Liza asked, watching Stuart’s dreamy blue eyes scan the dance floor. She downed her drink in one gulp.
“Well, since August is the hottest month, he showers himself in front of the ladies, and lets them lather him up.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Liza giggled, curious how he was going to manage a shower on the dance floor.
Stuart winked and took a sip of his beer. Liza melted. It took everything she had not to catapult into his lap and take him right there.
“What’s the craziest thing you’ve done with stripping?” she asked. Feeling brave, she touched his leg.
“I oil myself up sometimes, but I don’t do water…too messy,” he answered, tracing his thumb down the length of her hand. She looked at his lips without realizing. He took the cue and leaned in. The warmth from his skin reached her nose and she watched him scan her face closely. Her eyes drooped slightly with the effects of the alcohol. There was a familiar dampness between her legs and as her hand accidentally grazed his outer thigh, she closed her eyes.
She felt his lips touch hers gently, like a butterfly kiss, and she opened her mouth, impulsively wanting more. His hand reached over and cupped her face, sending juicy thrills up her spine. Her tongue found his first and she could feel his breath on her cheek and a small vibration. Is he moaning? She leaned in closer to him and placed her hand on his chest, feeling his tough yet soft pectoral muscles.
For a moment, Liza forgot that they were in public. Her hand reached down to his crotch and she felt his hardness against the zipper. His hand reached up to her breast and he gently squeezed it, causing her to combust. She grabbed a handful of his hair and straddled him on the seat. Her knees found their place on opposite sides of his thighs and his hands slid down to her ass and he squeezed her towards him.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” he panted, finding her breasts with both hands as she continued to kiss him voraciously. His lips were sweet, like he just ate a cinnamon roll, and they were soft, like two small down pillows. Stuart knew how to kiss—gentle but strong. He was sucking on her tongue and lips while his tongue tickled the inside of her mouth.
“God, you’re so sweet,” he breathed, taking a handful of her long, soft brown hair and guiding her head so he had better access to her mouth.
She pulled his shirt out of his pants and placed her hands underneath, feeling his six-pack abs. Liza groaned, wanting so badly to suck on his chest.
“You want to get out of here?” he offered, breathing rapidly. “We can go wherever you like.” His tone was gracious; like he didn’t want to be overzealous, but he also wanted to let her know his intentions.
“Don’t talk,” she said, kissing his neck. He closed his eyes, feeling her lips suck tenderly, but with need. “I gotta tell you, Liza,” he said, trying to stay in control, “believe it or not, it’s been a while for me,” he explained. “If we keep doing this I’m gonna explode.”
Stuart looked around the room. Almost everybody else was still on the dance floor. There were a few other strippers doing lap dances at some of the tables furthest away, and one guy who arrived a few minutes prior to pick up his girlfriend, was making out with her a few tables over. He didn’t see Liza’s friends anywhere.
Stuart ran his thumbs up Liza’s thighs, wishing like hell that she was wearing a dress or skirt. But her jeans were so sexy, hugging her ass and thighs so seductively, he decided they’d do under the circumstances. Liza’s shirt was loose enough that he could reach up and touch her bra. He slipped his fingers under the wire and gently fondled her nipples. They hardened with his touch and she groaned. “Liza. God, I’m gonna explode,” he urged. “It’s been too long.”
The thought of him exploding was half scary to her, but at the same time sexy as hell. She’d never experienced that kind of power before. Coupled with the alcohol and the atmosphere, she was feeling really brave. She pulled his shirt over so its long apron in front was covering his pants. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth as he continued to kiss her passionately. When he felt her hands reach down to undo his pants, he hesitated. Looking around, he saw his boss nowhere in sight. He leaned back and slid his hands up her shirt, thankful that their booth had the least lighting in the whole place.
Liza’s head reared back, allowing him better access to her breasts. Her heart was pounding and she could feel her pulse beating between her legs. As he gently squeezed her erect nipples with his thumb and index fingers, she slid her hand down his pants. His cock was pulsating and so hard, she could barely get her hand around it. Stuart cried out softly as she tugged on it, slowly at first, then building a rhythm.
“Oh, baby, it won’t take long,” he panted. “Are you sure you don’t want to go someplace?”
Liza’s head was beginning to spin with the alcohol, the heat between them, and the music, which had reached an ultimate volume. “No, I…I want you here.” She hesitated, feeling the room sway and blur. Liza’s hand began to slow and Stuart, thinking she was just tiring, wrapped his hand around hers and helped. “God, Liza it’s so good,” he said under his breath. His ass rose and fell with the rhythm as his tongue continued to find hers. She could hear his breath hitch, while his cock pulsed and became impossibly harder. The thought of him this aroused for her was heady. Feeling very drunk and unlikely to remember the experience, she whispered in his ear, “Come for me.” She gently nipped his earlobe. He suddenly gasped and slowed his movement. Liza watched his eyes shut tight as he spilled himself on her hand and on his belly.
“Oh God, what a feeling,” Stuart breathed. “I’d love to take you into one of the private rooms and return the favour,” he offered. Liza looked up at him and suddenly the room began to spin out of control.
“You okay?” he asked, lifting her over to his side. “Do you need some water?”
Brenda approached from behind. “No, but I think she’s had enough of you.”
Stuart stilled, suddenly aware that his semi-hard cock and shirt were still hanging out. “Shit,” he said, tucking what he could back where it belonged.
“Jesus, Liza,” Brenda exclaimed. “As if I don’t have enough babysitting to do with Tara.” She gestured over to the table closest to the dance floor. Tara was passed out cold; her body was lying down across two chairs, and it appeared Mr. October was nursing her.
“What is it with you guys?” Brenda said to Stuart, draping Liza’s purse strap over her head, messenger-style. “Did you have a bet going tonight?”
Stuart’s face wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“You see a couple quiet ones off in the corner and you figure it’s fair game?”
“It was nothing like that,” he argued, righting Liza’s shirt. “She looked like she needed an ice-breaker.”
Brenda rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Lucky for you she won’t remember in the morning.”
Liza’s head was lolling and her eyes were glassy. Brenda took Liza’s hand and bent toward her. “You need to puke?”
Liza shook her head.
“Come on, let’s get you two home.”