Burning Cash

While his mom was busy trying to find sources of cash, and his sister was working for a man with gobs of it to spend, Aaron was burning his.

It was a metaphor, of course. The forensic accountant would never dream of burning cash, but he liked to go down to the strip club. Not the fancy pants one, either, the seedy one off MLK.

The stripper grinded her ass against him in the private room. She was Russian, and her name was Nastya.

She was blonde, with a tight, fit body. She did hours of aerobics exercise each week, and he'd never seen a woman with such a tight, flexible body.

"So what are you doing after you're done here?" Aaron asked drunkenly, over a hundred dollars tucked into Nastya's thong.

"I have go please big bosses," she said in her broken English. She nodded in the corner. Aaron could see two big built Black men talking. God ... Aaron thought. This goddess ... with them? The entire thought made his crotch involuntarily spasm.

"Oh ... you cum already?" Nastya said, chiding him in the most loving way possible.