Table Of ContentGolden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
SIZZLER EDITIONS—HOT FLASHES
GOLDEN ANGEL: UNWILLING SEX SLAVE
Part One: The Abduction of Number Seven
By
CLAIRE THOMPSON
ISBN 1-58873-954-6
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2006 Claire Thompson
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without
written permission.
Sizzler Editions/Hot Fashes B&D
www.sizzlereditions.com
A Renaissance E Books publication
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
Chapter One
"Here you go, sir," Laura said, setting a martini down in
front of the man who nodded absently, barely noticing her.
His eyes were riveted to the woman on the stage. Laura
followed his gaze, trying to ignore the tendril of envy that
curled around her thoughts like a gripping weed.
The dancer gyrated to the techno music pulsating through
the speakers, commanding the attention of every man in the
room, their expressions eloquent with yearning. Laura
wondered what it must be like to have that sort of attention.
She knew she would die of embarrassment if men were
leering at her like that, but at the same time she couldn't
deny a secret fascination. To be the subject of men's sexual
fantasies, the object of their desires...
Laura watched as the dancer gripped the silver pole with
both hands, letting her body hang back as the stage lights
shimmered through her platinum blonde hair. The light
dripped off the gold silky gown that hugged every curve of
her body. Provocatively swiveling her hips and fingering her
mouth, her eyes closed as if about to climax. With a long red
fingernail she let the strap fall and drape over her shoulder.
She moved her leg through the slit of her gown, drawing the
eye down to her glossy and very high heels. Each gesture was
a tease, an implied invitation.
The gown fell from her shoulders, giving her audience a
view of her large round breasts barely covered by the red
satin of her low-cut bra. Facing the audience, the dancer
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
shimmied so her breasts jiggled toward the front row of
tables. A few men clapped, tossing their dollar bills at her
feet.
The dancers could make more in an hour than Laura would
make in a night, but then, Laura only served drinks—she
didn't bare her body, or writhe over men's legs in a lap dance,
whispering seductive things in their ears, making them flush
with pleasure and desire. Not that she was complaining. The
money was certainly better than her last job at the diner, but
she was pretty sure she didn't make as much in tips as most
of the girls. She didn't seem to have the knack the other girls
did for flirting with the men, for letting her breasts slide "by
accident" over their arm as she set down drinks or removed
dirty plates, for making them feel sexy and valued.
It wasn't that she didn't want to flirt—she simply didn't
know how. She had thought she would feel sexy in the outfit
the cocktail waitresses were expected to wear when on shift—
a close-fitting black or red spandex camisole with built-in bra
and a short skirt or shorts of the same snug-fitting material.
But in fact she felt self-conscious—aware her nipples were
poking through the fabric in the well air-conditioned club, the
globes of her ass hugged by the tight skirt.
Laura took another drink order, glancing back at the
dancer as she moved toward the bar. She was near the end
of her act, her shiny gown now a puddle of gold at her feet.
With a kick of one long leg she tossed the dress away from
her. Her sheer black stockings were held up by a black garter
belt with little red satin bows at the clasps. Slowly she bent
her knees, lowering and raising herself against the pole in a
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
kind of erotic callisthenic. Laura felt the sexual tension in the
room as the men leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the
dancer's pussy, covered with only a few inches of red satin.
With a seductive smile the dancer faced the men as she
reached behind to unclasp her push-up bra. A collective sigh
went through the room as her perfect breasts sprung free,
the nipples dark brown and erect. She let her hands glide
seductively down her sides. Her fingers drew a line up her
firm belly to her breasts, which she cupped and lifted. The
glittering body oil she'd rubbed over her body before the
show made her skin glow.
"Waitress, waitress!" Laura turned with a guilty start as
the music faded. She had been so absorbed in the dance
she'd quite forgotten to get her drink order filled. The dancer
was smiling and blowing kisses to the applauding men as she
gathered her tips and slipped from the stage to freshen up
and mingle with the men until she was up again for her next
set. As another dancer ascended the stage Laura hurried to
the bar to place her order with George, the bartender.
"Hi Laura, good night, huh? Place is packed. What can I
get you?" As Laura gave him the order, she watched George
make the drinks. He was a tall heavyset man with a plain but
gentle face. He had been nice to Laura since she'd started the
job two months ago, sometimes giving her advice on what to
expect from the customers and what was expected of her.
He'd seemed to sense her vulnerability. He told her she
reminded him of his kid sister.
"It's a tough gig," he had warned her her first night on the
job. "You have to pace yourself. The guys expect you to be
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
perky and friendly. Some of these guys have too much to
drink and get the mistaken idea you're on the menu, but Pete
and Norm will be watching so don't worry." Pete and Norm
were the bouncers, always discreetly moving about the club,
their eyes darting over the customers, making sure everyone
was behaving.
Laura had been leery at first of taking this cocktail waitress
job at a strip club, but like George, the manager, Lewis
Hampton, had assured her the waitresses were "off limits" to
the customers. She was to keep them happy with a steady
supply of drinks, and to look pretty in her little outfit, but that
was it. So far Laura had to admit, though the hours were
long, the club really was a very nice place to work. It was a
cut above the typical strip club. Billing itself as "the most
exclusive gentlemen's club in Manhattan", its clientele were
well-heeled and better behaved than Laura's preconceived
notion of guys who hung out at strip joints. The space was
elegant, with chandeliers splashing soft light over the plush
chairs and mahogany woodwork of the long bar and little
tables set about the large room. The carpet was of fine thick
wool, the walls paneled in oak, hung with tasteful pictures of
nude and nearly nude women painted in oils during the
nineteenth century.
"You here for the dancer spot?" Lewis Hampton had asked
when Laura had come to apply late one afternoon before the
club was open for business. He stared pointedly at Laura's
body and she flushed.
"Oh, no," Laura had answered, somewhat flustered at even
being asked the question. It wasn't that Laura didn't have a
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
good body. In fact her body was better than some of the
exotic dancers she so admired on the stage, and unlike many
of them, hers had not been enhanced by plastic surgery.
Laura had round, high breasts, a long narrow waist and
gently flaring hips. Her legs were muscular, but the muscles
were lean and feminine, rising to a small but shapely ass.
Because she was so painfully shy, Laura honestly had no
idea of her own beauty or potential erotic appeal. She kept
her blond wavy hair pulled back and dressed simply in t-shirts
and jeans. At twenty-four she didn't need makeup—her
complexion was soft and fresh, her large brown eyes fringed
with thick lashes, her lips sensuously full and rosy red even
without lipstick.
"Well," Hampton had said, his eyes gliding up and down
her body as he slowly licked his lips. "You could still try out if
you want. I'll need to see your tits of course."
Laura had blushed, her cheeks hot as she shook her head.
"I'm here about a waitress position. I saw the ad. If it's still
open?"
She'd gotten the job, her references apparently checking
out to Mr. Hampton's satisfaction. Sometimes she wondered
what would have happened if she had applied for the dancer
spot. Would the men who all but ignored her now be gazing
at her with adoration and lust as she moved before them on
the stage? Would they be calling out her name, begging her
for a lap dance, for a kiss, for a special hour in the VIP
lounge?
Laura sighed. Of course that was a ridiculous fantasy. She
wouldn't have had the nerve to strip for a boyfriend in the
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
privacy of their bedroom, much less a room full of jaded men.
If she had had a boyfriend.
When asked, Laura would tell people she was "between
boyfriends" but in fact she hadn't dated in months. Not that
men didn't ask her out—they did. But she rarely accepted, not
willing to sit through hours of boring conversation with guys
who usually focused on their favorite topic—themselves. After
a meal they would take her back to her place, asking to be
invited in, usually expecting a little sex in exchange for the
dinner.
If she liked the fellow she might even go along, but
invariably the sex was dull, no fireworks, no passion. She told
friends she was tired of kissing toads while waiting for her
prince, and that she'd rather curl up with a good book. While
she liked sex well enough, her heart never raced at the
thought of any particular man, her pussy moistening with
desire, her nipples tingling with need, like in the romance
novels she liked to buy from the supermarket. Maybe she just
lacked the capacity for romance? Maybe romance was just a
fairytale. Maybe she should settle for Tom or Joe or Frank—
select someone to start a family with and get over her silly
notions of true love.
Laura was pulled from her reverie by a waitress named
Janet. "Laura, you gotta take my station. Lewis said you could
handle both stations. I'm really sick."
"Gosh, Janet. What's wrong? You look awful."
"Gee thanks for the compliment," Janet said, trying to
smile but failing. "I think it was the oysters I had at dinner. I
think I'm gonna puke. Sorry to dump this on you but..." Janet
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Golden Angel, Unwilling Sex Slave #1: A Hot-Flashes Novelette
by Claire Thompson
thrust a handful of tabs toward Laura, one for each table at
her station.
Laura took them, adding them to her own stack in her
pocket. "No, that's okay. Go on, really. I could use the extra
tips anyway." As Janet hurried toward the bathroom Laura
surveyed Janet's tables. She walked toward them, introducing
herself and checking at each table to see what the gentlemen
might need. At a back table a tall man with dark hair brushed
straight back from his forehead sat alone. As Laura came up
to him he reached out and touched her arm lightly. "Excuse
me, miss. Another glass of Cognac when you have a
moment."
Laura nodded, sifting through the tabs Janet had given her
till she found his table. She saw he'd had two glasses of a
very expensive Cognac already, plus an order of fine caviar
and some cheese and crackers. Should be a good tip in this
one, she thought.
As she placed the snifter on the table in front of the man,
Laura observed that he was dressed in a pearl gray suit with
matching tie. At his very white cuffs were real cufflinks,
emerald stones set in white gold. His face was lean-boned
with a high-bridged, broad nose and rather piercing gray
eyes. As she put a fresh napkin down for him the man's hand
came over hers.
"What's your name? Mine is Kramer. Gordon Kramer."
"Oh, I'm Laura," she said, gently extracting her hand from
his. "I'll be your waitress for the rest of the even—"
"Laura," the man cut her off. "That's a lovely name. To go
with your lovely face."
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