BetweenTwoBillionairesCompleteStripped (3 page)

“
Come on,
girls. Take it all off!” one of the guys yells. The others join
in chanting “Take it off! Take it off!”

My eyes dance around
the crowd. We're completely surrounded by horny drunk men. It's my
worst nightmare come to life. Ethel is pandering to the crowd, but
I'm just standing there, frozen in place.

Many of the guys
stare at me, expecting me to do something. One even reaches out and
tugs at the sleeve of my dress. I recoil closer to Ethel. It's then
that she acknowledges me. She wraps her hands around my shoulders,
pulling me to her and whispering into my ear sternly, “Just
follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

I turn towards her
the second she lets me go, watching her. She dances to the music
booming through the house, swaying her hips and rolling her head and
doing all these sexual moves I could never master in a million years.
Then she grabs the bottom of her dress and starts slowly pulling it
up over her hips. Her matching red panties come into view, and I know
I can't watch anymore. This isn't me. I have to escape.

I feel hands sliding
around my waist, and every warning alarm planted inside my head in
Catholic school suddenly goes off at once. I turn and push my way
through the crowd. Hell, I barrel through it, not caring who I step
on or offend. This is a bad situation, and I need to get out of it as
quickly as possible. I know what happens when men get like this, and
it's not good.

It takes me a moment
to push through the crowd. Hands grope at me, but I slap them away.
What they want, I'm not going to give. I don't care if I have to walk
home. I'm not staying in this house a moment longer.

Finally, I break
free of the group of horny men. As soon as there's enough of a
clearing, I take off running, accidentally stepping out of one of my
heels. By the time I turn around to retrieve it, there are people
blocking it from view. It's not worth going back for. Ethel will be
pissed that I lost it, but at this point, I'd rather deal with her
wrath then the consequences of staying in this house.

I take my other shoe
off and continue sprinting towards the door. People give me queer
looks, but I don't care. They belong here. I don't. They don't have
to understand that. They can talk about the strange girl running
through the house later. It makes no difference to me.

Once the foyer is in
sight, I turn back for a split second to look for Ethel, and my body
collides with what feels like a brick wall. I lose my balance, fall
back onto my ass, and champagne goes all over Ethel's blue dress and
me. My mind can only process it landing on the dress. It's more fuel
for the fire I'll feel from her later.

It takes a few
seconds for me to realize that I ran right into one of the waiters
carrying the champagne glasses. Naturally, with my luck, most of it
fell on me. The guy scowls at me before he kneels to pick up the
pieces of broken glass. There's no concern for me whatsoever on his
face. In fact, I'm surprised that he doesn't cuss me out for not
watching where I was going.

“
Cinderella,”
a man calls behind me. I die a little more inside. Why can't they
just leave me alone?

I twist around to
see a handsome stranger holding my other shoe. His blue eyes are not
glassy at all. In fact, they have surprising clarity behind them. He
reaches down to help me off the floor before presenting the shoe to
me, holding out his palm and resting it on top while grasping the
strap with his other hand so that it sits upright.

“
You lost your
slipper,” he says with a charming smirk.

I move to take it
from him, but he quickly withdraws. Great. Another asshole. Just as I
thought.

“
Your dress is
soaked. Let me get you something to change into.” He motions
back into the house with his head.

“
I'm fine.
Thanks.” I do my best to seem grateful instead of annoyed. This
is like one of those horror movies where the heroine is about to
escape and then the house sucks her back in.

The guy quirks an
eyebrow at me. “Do you seriously want to get in your car
smelling like that?”

I never really
thought about it, probably because I don't even have the keys to
Ethel's car. I didn't think about what I would do once I got outside.

“
I'm not
getting in a car,” I tell him, though I know it's a lie. I'm
grasping for any excuse to get away.

“
Then how are
you planning on getting home?”

“
That's none
of your concern,” my voice darkens as I stare at the shoe he's
holding.

“
Come on. I've
got something you can change into.” He motions back toward the
living room and then starts walking away from me.

I stare at the shoe
in his hand as it gets further away. I've messed up the dress, but I
can still save the shoes. Maybe I should go after him. Besides, I
really don't want to spend the next hour or so soaked to the bone in
alcohol.

The guy is almost
out of sight when I finally decide to follow him. This is a mistake.
I already know that. But stupid seems to be on the menu tonight.

I'm surprised when
he leads me to the bottom of the staircase. There's a security guard
standing sentry there, not allowing the party goers to go up, but he
waves the guy through. The alarms inside my head go off again as he
ascends the stairs with my shoe in hand. I've watched enough movies
to know what happens if you go upstairs with a guy at a party. This
is something I definitely don't want.

My heart drops as I
realize I have to let the shoe go. With a heavy sigh, I stand there
and sulk for a few moments.

The guy stops and
turns to look at me. “Are you coming?”

“
No.” I
shake my head.

“
Come on. I
have some clothes for you up here.”

“
I know what
happens to girls who go upstairs with strange men.” My words
sound immature and a bit pathetic, not to mention laced with
depression. I don't care though. This night has been horrible. I
can't hide all the negative emotions going through me anymore. I'm
sure that as soon as I get outside, I'm going to have a good cry.

“
They get a
change of clothing.” He raises an eyebrow at me, acting
oblivious.

“
That's not
why you want me to go upstairs with you.” I wrap my arms around
myself protectively, refusing to look at him.

“
Would it make
you feel safer if I promise we won't have sex?” He takes a step
back down the stairs.

“
Not really.”

“
Well, if you
want this,” he raises the shoe up, “and some dry clothes,
then you'll come.”

I want both, but
it's not worth the price. He could just as easily bring the clothes
down here and show me where the bathroom is, but he won't do it. That
means he has other intentions.

“
Thanks, but
no thanks.” I turn, preparing to leave.

The guy quickly
descends the rest of the stairs, reaching out to grab my hand. My
eyes land on our joined hands, and I scowl. “Let me go.”
I jerk away from him. He doesn't resist.

“
Hey.”
He calls my attention up to his face. His expression is gentle and
sincere. “I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to do
anything to you that you don't want. I promise. I just thought we'd
go upstairs because changing takes a while, and both restrooms
downstairs have a line to them.”

When he puts it that
way, it does make more sense. The house is packed, and if there are
only two restrooms downstairs, then I imagine they would be crowded.
There are a lot of people drinking, and that means a lot of people
who need to use the restroom.

I hesitate,
exploring his face for any signs of deception. It's always the nice
guys who are the worst. And this guy seems way too nice. He retrieved
my shoe. He helped me up off the floor. He offered me clothes to
change into. And now he's offering me a private place to change. The
warning alarms are still going off, but I decide to trust him anyway.

“
Alright,”
I reply timidly.

My heart is racing
as I follow him into the unknown. Up here, I'm not safe. I know that.
He could do things to me, and it's highly likely that no one would
hear me cry for help. Even if they did, would anyone come? It's
doubtful.

He opens a door at
the end of the hallway, and we step inside. As I feared, it's a
bedroom. My stomach churns unpleasantly as I consider the possibility
of being trapped with a man who could easily overpower me. It doesn't
help that he closed the door behind us.

I fidget with the
strap on my other shoe as the man breaks away from me and goes to
rummage through one of the drawers. It doesn't take long before he
has two articles of clothing in hand. He returns to me, holding up a
white T-shirt and a red pair of shorts. “They're not your size,
but they'll do. The shorts have a tie on them, so you should be able
to make them fit.”

“
Thanks.”
I reach out to take the clothes from him, but he recoils, the same
way he did with my shoe earlier. It's then that I realize he
conveniently left it on the dresser.

A devious smirk
crosses his lips as he walks over to a chair in the corner of the
room and sits down with both garments in hand. I give him a confused
look.

“
Strip,”
the word is cold and unmistakable.

“
What?”
My stomach rolls. Of course, this guy is a creep. They say that if it
seems too good to be true, it probably is. I should have listened to
those warning alarms going off earlier and just left.

“
You didn't
really think I brought you up here just for a change of clothes, did
you?” his tone darkens. “You're a stripper, so strip.”

My jaw tenses in
anger and disgust. What a pig.

“
I don't feel
good,” I lie. “Why do you think I was leaving? If I felt
like stripping, I would have done it downstairs.” My words are
calculated. I have to get myself out of this situation and save
Ethel's night at the same time. It's a real pain.

“
You don't
seem ill.” He's not convinced.

“
Well, I am.”
I hug myself, glaring at him.

“
This is the
trade. If you want the clothes and the shoe, you give me a private
strip tease.” He makes it sound like a compromise, but it's
not. I lose, either way.

“
You know
what? Forget it.” I throw my hands up at him before turning
around to stomp out of the room.

He's on his feet in
an instant, closing the distance between us, his hand wrapping
tightly around my wrist, keeping me from leaving. He pulls me back to
him until we're facing each other, our bodies dangerously close. His
eyes are filled with lust. If I wasn't so frightened, I might be
attracted to him. But he's all predator right now. Just as dangerous
as the monsters downstairs.

I'm terrified. I'm
not sure whether to scream or strike him. If I strike him, I'll
surely go to jail. I'm not even supposed to be here. But I can't
possibly give in to his demand. That's not who I am. I'd rather end
up in jail than defiled by some stranger.

We stand in a
stalemate for several moments. I try to pull my arm away from him,
but he doesn't let go. His eyes move over my face, falling to my
lips.

“
You're
scaring me,” I whimper. As if in time with my words, I begin to
shake, the adrenaline and fear too much for my body to handle.

He lets go of me
immediately, taking a step back. The lust leaves his expression and
is replaced by a look of concern.

“
I'm sorry,”
he stutters, casting his eyes to the floor in shame for a few brief
seconds. “Turn around,” he tells me, retreating toward
the chair where he left the clean clothes he found for me.

“
Why?”

“
Just do it,”
his voice is firm.

This is the moment I
should run. I know that. He's planning something horrible for me.
That's just the way men like him are. They think they can do whatever
they want because they have money. I need to run, but instead, I
obey.

“
Are you going
to let me go?” I ask.

“
Yes, but not
yet.” His footsteps move away from me, and then I hear him
returning. The closer he gets, the faster my heart beats. “Take
off your dress,” he tells me.