Losing a Stripper, Gaining a Daughter (w/graverunner, kckolbe)

Eric knew he wasn't where he should be. He was where he'd intended to be, even purposefully planned to be, but not where a father should be, even an irresponsible one like himself. He'd heard of her existence almost a decade ago, confirmed (to a reasonable extent) with his ex that she was his a couple of years later, and kinda done nothing about it since. She was in her late teens now, and according to her mother (who found out via twitter) she'd run off from home and started stripping. That not having been close to the first issue with her, and the now legally adult Delilah having jumped the state, her mom had decided to let her have her freedom.

Eric would have decided the same thing, but lingering guilt, a bit more curiosity than he'd care to admit, and the fact that the club she worked at was a convenient drive for him eventually led to him paying a visit one night. It wasn't a club he'd visited before. There werent any clubs he visited often, as normally he stayed in. Occasionally he'd played around watching webcam shows, but made a point to keep it to a moderate level, as he wasn't a wealthy man. However, this was not the kind of club that he would choose to visit. The girls were attractive enough, but it had a trashy feel to it.

Eric approached one of the girls working and brandished a twenty dollar bill. "Hey, is Delilah working tonight? I'd like to have her private, will pay her double her normal rate." The girl's eyebrows raised and she deftly snatched the bill. "She'll be right there, go ahead and wait for her." She gestured toward a small private stall in the corner.

Club Lynx was the sort of club that looked like it had seen better days. The sort of place that seemed faded at the edges and contained patrons whom dropped by only because it was a familiar watering hole that they had gone to time and again. As far as clubs went, it definitely wasn’t as bad as some she had been roped into visiting on her nights off, the kind that had a desperate air to it and contained girls with dark-ringed hazy eyes who were coked out of their minds half the time. While nowhere near the best nor the flashiest, it was something that one could comfortably slip into for a no-frills affair. Like a raggedy old sweater you turned to at the end of the day.

Delilah knew she shouldn’t be too surprised then that no one cared that she had managed to pull off a particularly difficult move that had left her stumped for weeks. She had kicked her legs out into a fan, inverting herself into a butterfly before arching out into a flatline scorpio, managing to extend her other arm out gracefully this time round instead of it curled in a panic-tight hold around the pole to prevent herself from slipping. Eyes flashing triumphantly, she titled her head to the side to gauge the reactions of her customers, only to notice that most of their gazes were trained on her chest, probably willing the slip of white fabric that just barely covered her nipples to lose its grip completely.

Figures, she thought, more amused than annoyed. She couldn’t fault them for having a one-track mind, not when half of her moves were deliberately executed to lead their thoughts in that direction.

When the call came that she had a booth customer, Delilah couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of relief. Ordinarily, she preferred working the floor, but it couldn’t hurt to take a break from the crowd now and then.

She offered no pleasantries when she entered the stall. Delilah had learnt long ago that the customers who requested the stalls had no need for scintillating conversation, and those who tried were better off having their mouths kept shut anyway.

As it was, she did not even catch a glimpse of her customer’s face, simply strode in and poured herself into the lap of the man waiting on the battered couch.

“Finally,” she breathed out, arms winding themselves around the stranger’s neck and hips rolling down. “I was wondering how long I’d have to go without cock for today.”

Obeying instructions, Eric followed the gesture to one of the small rooms. He paused along the way to watch the girl currently on stage. Between her agressive movements, the poor lighting, and his interests lying elsewhere on her body, he only caught glimpses of her face. As he didn't really know what his daughter looked like, and expecting that she would be somewhere in the back (where the first girl had started walking), he didn't watch her with the reserved curiosity of a father looking for his daughter, but more as a middle-aged man watching a young, attractive, barely-dressed woman put herself on display. He found himself wishing he were setting up a private encounter with this girl instead of an awkward introduction with his daughter. Maybe Delilah would be busy and he could spend some time with this girl first, enjoy himself a bit and feel a little less stressed for the meeting he'd come here for.

His wishful thinking resulted in a less than critical observation of her performance. So while he was impressed by some of the moves, and occasionally raised his eyebrows at one seemed like difficult maneuvers, usually his attention was more on the way what little clothing she had shifted and displayed more of her skin. He noted her name-Dahlia-and wanted to stay and watch to see if her next show took more off, but he needed to head to the booth for Delilah.

The private room was little more than an area in the corner closed off by a thick, black curtain. A small, cheap chair sat in the corner of that corner, and on the walls behind it hung two leather straps. Eric sat down in the chair, thinking of the girl dancing from earlier. So when a young woman strode in to the dark room and poured herself on his lap, her hips rolled her small body down right on top of his erection, something she clearly noticed. It was an uncomfortable sensation, yet not one that he physically wanted to end. As the rest of his body stiffened for different reasons, one of his hands went to her hips while the other attempted a simple readjustment. "Hi," he managed at last. "Not really sure how to start this off. How long do we have here?"

Newcomer, Delilah noted, taking in the rather uncertain air the man emanated, her opinion only cemented all the more with the next question that he asked. It was a rather refreshing turn from the men who usually wanted her in the back stalls, more often than not comprising of those whom simply wanted a warm body to drown out their troubles in.

“As long as you’d like,” she replied, before flashing a small grin with a little more teeth than was necessary for someone in her trade, squirming in his lap in a way that seemed accidental but was very much designed to rub as much as she could of the man’s growing interest. “Or as much as your wallet permits.”

There would be some who might have decked her for such a line, but Delilah figured that this one was too new to bring up a complaint and in any case, she was making sure that his concern was kept on other more pressing matters. She settled her hips into a leisurely rhythm, making sure that what she could feel outlined of the other’s erection settled comfortably against the cleft of her bottom each time she rolled down.

“All of this at your beck and call and yet you keep your hands to yourself,” she murmured, trailing her fingers over the hand clenched on her hip, urging it to go up higher, bringing it to a stop near the edge of the snug white cloth that barely covered half of her breasts. A simple finger hooked in would have been enough to spring them free, but even without this, how little fabric there was in the first place meant that his hands would have essentially been palming the bottom swell. “Could make a girl feel more welcome by touching me.”

Delilan did not let him continue the rest of the conversation, instead opting to lean in and lick into the seam of his lips, the aggression of the gesture blunted by the sweet “pretty please?” she offered upon drawing back, the rest of her body warm and pliable and clearly wanting more.

He began to bring his hand up from adjusting himself, the other still resting on her hip. He wasn't sure if it had initially gone there to halt her from straddling his lap or to guide her onto it, but now it just remained there. Not sure where to put his hand, he paused in trying to decide when she responded that they had as long as he liked. "Oh, okay..." he started to add, though a quick "wow" also escaped his lips as she rolled down on him. "Yeah, money's...not a problem. This is, a...special occasion."

Once he stopped talking, the sensation was too good to resist focusing on. Eric found himself involuntarily grinding back against her, the rhythm she so effortlessly created taking him over, and he found himself looking forward to every time he felt the cheeks of her supple ass slide on either side of his shaft. He nodded, barely able to speak, when she challenged him about keeping his hands to himself, but he did everything he could to remind himself why he was here. "Just needed to find you," he managed, his thoughts quickly derailing as she brought his hand up to the underside of her breast.

He looked to her in shock, his eyes wide in the dark room. Before he could respond, though, he felt her lean in against him. He thought it might be a kiss, and he didn't pull away. He hoped it was because he was too surprised to react in time. He nodded again, this time more in acquiescence of her request than acknowledgement. "I saw you on the stage," he said, apropos of nothing. His free hand drifted down to her thigh, resting there while he looked her in the eyes, trying again to get back on track. "This is...this is nice, but I need something else. Maybe somewhere...else? Maybe...after work?"

Delilah was vaguely pleased to see that, despite still seeming unsure on touching her even with open permission to do so, he was at least responding to her. He had begun to thrust up in time with the movement of her hips, giving her something to brace herself against and allowing each downward roll to fit his length even more comfortably against her cheeks. She had loped her arms around his neck, pretty much settled in comfortably for a little more grinding, appreciative little noises tumbling out from time to time, though something that he said had her drawing back a little.

“Hmm… Heard about me then?” she asked, tone still silky-smooth though there was a bit of iron beneath it now. "I’m pleased to see word’s been getting ‘round.”

Previous clients recommending her always meant more cash and that was something she could always be contented with. Still, something about the way he had said “finding” had her pausing for a beat. It wouldn’t be the first time that some got a little too obsessive. She already had one to contend with and definitely did not need another creep on her plate.

This one did not quite seem like stalker material though. There was something a little too hesitant in him to truly strike her as malicious. But she had been mistaken before.

“Just nice?” she teased, sliding down lithely so that she was now framed in between his legs, the positioning allowing her to look up at him from beneath her lashes along with the added bonus of letting him see right down her top. Once his attention was drawn there, she shifted a little, arching her back slightly to deepen her cleavage.

“There’s nothing you’d need that I’m not willing to offer right here,” she purred, laying her face against his thigh, eyes fluttering as she rubbed her cheek on it. “I’m entirely at your beck and call.”

One night stands were not entirely out of her purview, but she was a little leery of bringing anyone new home when McAsshole stalker was still bothering her.

“Anything you want,” she breathed out, flashing a disarming smile as she brought her arms up to drape across his legs as well, chin placed atop them.

Eric found himself really liking it when she loped her arms around his neck. The way she sat on his lap and hugged him...yeah, there were obvious differences, but this was the first time he'd even halfway felt like a father. Of course, that realization was not stopping him from continuing to match her rhythm, or from becoming more turned on with every cute little noise she let out. When she asked about her reputation, he laughed, knowing what she meant, and that it wasn't what he'd meant at all, but that didn't change the fact that nothing about this situation was appropriate for telling her he was her father.

He let his hands slide off of her body as she slipped down to the floor, his legs pushed apart. He looked down at her face...mainly. The way her breasts were presented it was difficult to not appreciate them at least a little. When she laid her cheek on his thigh, though, her pouty lips inches away from the shaft she'd expertly hardened a moment ago, the gravity of the situation hit hard. "I definitely believe you could do...anything that a man could need, but I'm not really looking for anything amazing." He stopped, distracted by the two hands placed on his upper thighs.

An announcement about the night's drink special blared out through the somewhat garbled PA system. Eric looked up, then scanned the area a bit nervously as he made a more concerted effort to get back on track. "I was actually hoping we could go somewhere else and talk. I'll pay for the time."

Delilah cast her eyes at the obvious bulge only inches away from her face and couldn’t help but be inordinately pleased. With the way the man had seemed so jittery, she had assumed that he would have needed a little more time to get comfortable, but it seemed that he was perfectly fine in this aspect at least. She had started teasing her hands closer, hands sliding a little higher even as she hummed noncommittally in response to what he said, attention neatly divided between his words and gauging his response to pushing things along a little further. The rates that he had offered meant that he likely wanted something more than a simple lap dance.

Only for her to stop in her tracks at what the man said next.

“Talk?” She couldn’t quite help the small giggle that escaped here, the lack of artifice in it a contrast to the surroundings around her, affording a rare glimpse of what her persona might be like outside the confines of the club when she was not actively intent on tempting someone. “Mister, there are way more places out there where it would be more appropriate to talk someone’s head off. Our specialties here don’t really tend to lean in that direction.”

But it was definitely not unheard of. There were clients here who simply wanted to chat out their problems and were looking for nothing more than a listening ear with a sympathetic bent. It also explained the way he was behaving, not entirely disinterested but reluctant in pressing for more.

“I did say anything you want,” Delilah mused.

Going somewhere else meant an extra layer of trouble to the proceedings. There wouldn’t be anyone to diffuse the situation if it got tricky or violent, but the man before her now seemed…. safe for reasons she could not put a finger on.

“Sure, why not,” she said, still amused. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say. If you don’t mind waiting, that is. Lucky for you my shift ends a little earlier today. You can hang around for a bit here, I’ll call on you later when I’m done and we can head off.”

He nodded in nervous relief when she questioned him about his desire to talk. Even as she teased him about this not being the kind of place people came to to find a conversation partner, he only nodded again in acknowledgement, chuckling at the oddness of his request, and beginning to speak more quickly as he responded. "Yes I know, not what you usually get, I get that. I'm sure most people who come in are perfectly happy to just let you do whatever you feel like doing. You really are great at this. Like I said, I saw you dancing before I was brought back here. You were really good. So...trust me, I get it," he wrapped up anti-climacticly. He was aware that he was rambling, but he really wanted to drive home that he wasn't looking for the kind of "special" request she seemed to be thinking of. That would be a near Greek tragedy, and would be just about the only way he could top his current level of "epic" parenting.

"So just wait here then?" He pointed down at the chair. "I can do that, I guess. I'll screw around on the phone for a bit."

"Yes, right there." Delilah answered, clear by the look on her face that she was still finding this entire situation fairly humorous. "Or anywhere else if you want to." She slanted a teasing look at him here. "Shouldn't be too difficult to pick you up. The one guy screwing around on his phone instead of one of the gals here."

By the time she returned to wherever Eric had parked himself, Delilah was looking a little more considerably clothed, having changed out of her skimpy work fabric for a loose over-the-shoulders top and a faded cabled knit cardigan over that to keep out some of the chill. She tapped on his shoulder to catch his attention, and once she had, tugged him up by the hand to follow her, keeping a hold as she led him through the club and out.

There were a few goodbye's called out to her, some with a couple of insinuating remarks thrown in as well, as they automatically assumed that Eric was her latest mark for the night. Which she didn't really do anything to dissuade. Played it up in fact by returning those remarks with a wink or a salacious look.

It was only when they were outside and some distance away from the club that Delilah dropped their linked hands to fully face Eric.
"There's a 24/7 diner near here. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm famished. Takes a lot of energy to do the splits and gyrations that you've seen. If you want to talk, I'd rather you do it over some fries and a---"

She couldn't quite finish her sentence because it was at that point that a "H-hey!" was called out in their direction. Whomever it was that had called out the greeting, it caused Delilah to scowl as she caught sight of the person over Eric’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” she hissed. “Pay no attention, c’mon, c’mon, we gotta go.”

“Hey!” the call came out again, still just as desperate sounding but more emboldened this time. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you! You never look anymore, I just want--- Wait, who, who the fuck is that—Fucking bitch I knew it--”
Delilah had winched herself by Eric’s side at this point, all but trying to drag him along with her away from the increasingly volatile ranting coming from behind them.

Eric clenched his jaw as she continued to chide him. What a little shit he thought. "I'll stay here. I think I'd rather be out of the way. I'm guessing by your...reaction that I stand out a bit more than expected." He knew that he was, by any objective standard, a weird "customer," even without accounting for why he was really there. Turning down offers for "extra services" while simultaneously trying to get her alone probably made him appear like either the weirdest of perverts (which he felt like, given how aroused he'd become during the short interaction) or a paranoid john.

That last musing made him wonder was she a prostitute? She definitely given the impression that more than dancing was on the menu, but maybe that was just talk to get the customer's hopes up and make them pay more? He wanted to know. As a father, if he was going to assume that role, he needed to know, and if it was the case then get her out of that line of work, even if he guiltily suspected she was quite good at it. However, to know he'd have to ask, and he definitely didn't want to solicit sex from her and then say he was her father. He didn't know how she'd react to something like that, but he couldn't think of anything but her being weirded out by it.

He unconsciously let out a sigh of relief when she reappeared. Her current clothing was a lot less distracting, and would make talking to her a bit more...possible, really. He smiled, clearly more relaxed now, and gave her his hand without protest. He awkwardly waived to her co-workers with his one free hand as they called out goodbyes and occasionally other things.

The moment she mentioned a diner, Eric gave her a hearty two thumbs up. Diners were good, casual, non-sexual. And being able to fill moments of silence with food wasn't a bad idea. He'd been ready to fully agree and offer to pay (which he expected that she expected, but wanted to make clear anyways) when someone on the street called out. Eric hesitated only slightly in following her, figuring the aggressive yeller to be some customer. She'd mentioned stalkers after all. Unfortunately, the man moved a lot faster than they did, and he caught up to them before they could get inside the diner.

Seeing that this confrontation was going to happen in some way, Eric reluctantly turned to address the man. "Evening," he said, in what he attempted as a confident, annoyed demeanor.