The man known to others only as Logan, leaned against the bar as the bartender left a bottle of Jack Daniels behind. He contemplated only taking a few shots but decided he’d just drink it all any way. Hell, he could definitely afford it now with all the money that had been thrown his way once he’d started his new job of playing body guard for an American Ambassador months before.

He looked at the empty shot glass and read the logo on it, Silk and Smoke. It was the name of the strip club, or rather the gentlemen’s club that he was now sitting in.

These types of joints didn’t do him much good, because he had someone he called when he got lonely or needed to get off. No, this place was his assignment and it had been for the last month and a half. The staff at the place had started calling him a regular even though he barely ever spent money on the exotic dancers, and even then he only tried to pry information out of them.

The women only danced. They never spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft music that they moved gyrated to, which left Logan feeling frustrated only with the assignment and not sexually. The strippers did nothing for him.

He picked up the fifth of Jack and poured a shot.

Tossing it back he thought back to the day, Charles Xavier had asked him to do this assignment.

He’d just come back from working out in the gym and had showered when Scott Summers, Xavier’s adopted son had knocked on his door. The two of them had never gotten along, because Scott felt there were other men who could do the job his father had hired Logan for. For some reason, it unnerved Scott that Logan barely ever smiled, and the fact that he had history as some sort of assassin.

“My father wishes to speak with you, Logan.”

Logan had taken the younger man in, his cold steely gray eyes twinkling. Logan hated the other man for the simple reason that Scott always had on those stupid ass ruby Oakley shades, even when inside of the house. That day, he hadn’t been wearing them, allowing for Logan to take in the other man’s hazel eyes. “About what?” It was simple and short. He considered himself a man of few words.

“I don’t know, Logan. That’s why he pays you for these things.” Scott had walked away, probable to see that cute piece of ass he was seeing, Emma Frost.

“Dick,” Logan had growled out before slamming the door closed behind him to go and see what in the hell Charles Xavier could want now. The man might be in a wheel chair, but he was a demanding bastard who wanted things done his way, which Logan didn’t mind so much as long as he was paid for his services.

Logan was quiet as he set in Xavier’s study and listened to the man drone on and on about roses. Charles Xavier was also a rambling idiot, Logan thought, when he wasn’t getting down to business. However, he abruptly stopped his speech on how roses needed to be taken care of and loved when he began to gasp for breath and his face contorted in pain.

Instantly, Logan knew Charles was having a heart attack. He helped the old man to the floor before calling 911 and yelling for help.

Logan cradled the man’s head, and tried to get him to save his strength but he wouldn’t shut up. “The assignment, Logan. It’s on my desk, sealed in an envelope. Everything you need is in the envelope.”


Another shot of Jack Daniels made its way down his throat as he turned to see a woman sidle up to him. Her dark auburn hair was pulled up into a French twist and she had on a business suit. She definitely didn’t seem to belong in this club. She seemed way above the place and she defiantly wanted Logan’s attention.

“Hello,” she said it politely enough as she climbed up onto the bar stool next to him.

Logan gave her another glance over and checked out her rack. He’d always been a boob man and she had one of the nicest set of tits he’d seen in a while. They were real and he could always tell just by the way a woman set if they were real or not.

“Whatever, you’re selling lady, I ain’t buying.” His tone was harsh but the woman laughed anyway and stuck out her hand.

“My name’s Jean Grey. I’m the owner of Silk and Smoke. And you are?”

He suppressed a growl and managed to bite out, “Logan.” He shook her hand gently because she seemed like the type who only wanted gentility out of a man. Roughness would not do for her. Logan smirked because rough was the only way he did things and that included women.

Her eyes twinkled. “No last name, Logan?”

He always got this shit. Sometimes he just didn’t wanna give his fucking last name. He knocked another shot back. “Just. Logan.” He bit the words out and Jean Grey seemed to find that even funnier. He held back a growl because it was something about being laughed at that didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Jean looked the man over taking in his appearance. He was probable taller than her and he had the eyes of well…someone who had probable killed before. For the last month or so, he’d been hanging around her place and she wanted to know why. She had an idea as to what his reasons were but she wanted to hear them from his lips alone. She flashed him another smile. “Well then, Logan, would you mind if you came with me.”

He whirled on her, his face betraying nothing. “What the fuck do you want lady? I ain’t in the mood.”

Jean smirked at his gruffness. “And neither am I. I honestly just wanted to talk to you about why everyday you’ve been in my bar. In all fairness, you’re starting to scare my staff.”

He cocked an eyebrow. So this was her joint, huh? You could have knocked him over with a feather at that moment. Logan stood then and latched onto the bottle of Jack Daniels that was still sitting on the bar. “Mind if I bring this?”

Jean shook her head. “I do mind.” She turned away from him then, her heels clicking into the floor and he watched her go before taking another shot and following.

The bartenders watched the two of them leave and relief washed over them. They honest to God were afraid of the feral looking man who always seemed to be in the worst fucking mood and they always seemed to have his ass on their shift.

Logan watched the careful sway of Jean’s hip and defiantly decided that he wouldn’t mind tapping that, but only if he could do it rough. He didn’t like to hear women screaming because it hurt with the way he was fucking them.

Delicate.

That was defiantly the word that described Jean. The woman probable hadn’t done one kinky thing in her life except running this damn strip joint.

Logan closed the door behind him and looked the place over. It was a large back room office, plenty of space and a desk behind which Jean Grey sat.

“So, as I said before, Logan, I want to know why you’re here.”

He chuckled. “I’m just enjoying spending my money in your place, lady.” He reached around inside of his leather jacket and found what he was looking for. A cigar. “You mind?”

“I do.” She sure as hell minded a lot about what he did. Instead of denying her wishes, he stuck the cigar between his lips and chewed the end mindfully.

“So darlin, I’ve got the feelin you could help me with my problem.” He watched as she raised a coopery brow before leaning forward, interested. He was a mystery, and if Jean enjoyed nothing else in life, she loved a good mystery. “I’m looking for someone. A woman.”

X


Ororo Munroe walked into the club known as Silk and Smoke with a duffle bag slung over her arm, and made her way to the bar. Victor Creed, or Vic as Ororo called him was standing by the bar having a drink when she finally approached.

“Hey,” she smiled good naturedly and he gave an appreciative roam over her body. The man didn’t know much about the white hair, blue eyed black girl, but he knew she had a killer body and should’ve been a model instead of a stripper.

“Hey yourself, ‘Ro.” Victor had felt overly protective of Ororo since the first moment they’d met and he didn’t really understand why. He just knew that she was the kind of woman who deserved protecting.

One of the bartenders slid Ororo a shot of Grey Goose with ice in a glass and she cradled it before drinking. “Please tell me, Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary is not here tonight. I need the cash.”

Vic gave her a look that said it all. “Sorry sweetums!”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Why is he after you?”

Ororo shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I ran over his dog and killed it. Why is the sky blue?” She polished off the drink and picked up the duffle bag with her
Wonder Woman costume inside. “I don’t care if he sees me tonight, I need the cash.”

That was a total lie. Ororo had never needed money a day in her adopted life. Her adoptive father had seen to it that she had a credit card in her name since she was at least sixteen, one that had no limit. She moved to the back of the club ignoring many of the patrons who gave lusty leers and made it into the dressing room where she found one of the dancers, Lorna Dane, waiting for her with a message.

Ororo sat down with a small sigh. “Wus up, Lorna?”
The other woman who had died her hair a weird tint of green grinned from ear to ear. “Jean says she has a customer for you.”

“Private?” Ororo turned and wondered what the smile was all about, especially since Lorna didn’t smile much.

“Uh huh! And he has deep pockets and seeing as how you haven’t danced in a while…” Lorna trailed off as Ororo began to strip and was about to pull on the Wonder Woman costume when she decided against it. If this customer was rich, then this needed to be sensual and sexy, not something that could be made a mockery.

Sadly she reached into the bag and pulled out another costume, one she rarely wore. She used it only for private dances. It was a simple black corset that had matching panties. When she wore it, she didn’t feel degraded, but instead liberated.

A sigh escaped her lips because the feelings of liberation were dwindling, especially now that her father had sent his henchman after her.
She looked her reflection over in the mirror after she’d dressed herself, and was a couple of inches taller with the stilettos. Her cloud white hair was pulled back into a simple pony tail and her exotic blue eyes stood out the most because of the black makeup she’d rubbed around her lids making them smokier, if that were possible.

Need the money, she reminded herself before going up the step to the back room where the private dances were held.

She was in control of the situation. If she got into to trouble, Victor or the other bouncer she’d made friends with would rescue her.

The room was darkened. Just the way she liked it. The only thing in the room was the man, the pole and herself.

She could make him forget about his day, his life, and if it came down to it, she could make him forget about his wife. Through dancing all this was possible for the patron, but not for her.

She could never forget.

The music started and she instantly knew it was one of her favorites that would be forever tied to her emotions. Sheryl Crow’s Can’t Cry anymore wafted through the speakers as she spun around the pole and began to dance.

Her movements were liquid as she spun and dipped and moved even closer to the shadowed man who was hidden in the room.

Suddenly, she got the oddest feeling and shook it away. It couldn’t be him because Jean, best-friend Jean, knew her situation. Best-friend Jean wouldn’t sell her out to her father and with renewed confidence and the movements of eight years worth of ballet and other training she continued to dance for the stranger, still having removed no clothing.

Logan took in a ragged breath as he watched the white haired woman he’d only glimpse briefly around Xavier’s mansion and in photograph. He now understood, even as he cock became harder at the sight of her dipping gracefully, why Charles Xavier wanted his child home. Ororo was a woman who was beautiful in every sense of the word and she needed to be protected from the likes of…well him.

He knew that the moment she had walked into the room, that he should have stopped her from dancing.

But he decided to see how far she’d go after a month of not taking off her clothes.

He knew he should have stopped her the moment she came closer to him, unlacing the corset and letting it drop to his feet.

But he didn’t.

Why? Because he wanted her, not only so that he could go the fuck back to Xavier’s but because he plain and simple wanted to fuck her. As his now hard cock demanded. But Logan was a smart man, and he was a patient man.

Once she was on top of him, grinding away at the erection she’d created, she finally looked into his face and what he saw in hers was one of pure hatred.

“What the fuck?” She questioned, stumbling in the impossible high stiletto heels.

Logan caught her wrist and pulled her back to him as he stood. “Fer a month now, darlin. A month. I’ve been hunting yer ass down. Yer coming back with me to Westchester.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Wolverine.” She looked behind her to the door and wondered where the fuck Victor and Bishop were not seeing the look of surprise run across his face at the name she's thrown out without care.

“They ain’t comin, darlin.”

Ororo turned back to him. “First, unhand me. Second, what do you mean they’re not coming? And third, why the fuck are you here?”

The Wolverine only reared its ugly head but so often and when it did all hell broke out. Logan was desperately trying to keep his emotion in check but this woman was enough to make him loose his mind. In the last ten minutes she’d made him feel emotions he’d thought he’d buried a long time ago, not to mention she’d given him a raging hard on. “Darlin, I suggest you shut you pretty mouth and listen up.”
Ororo, ever the one to calculate how things worked, turned her back on Logan. A dangerous move. She went immediately to the door and tried to open it but to no avail. It didn’t budge or give and she nearly slumped against it in defeat.

“You ready to listen, darling?” She watched him closely and noticed the way he moved towards her, like he was being careful. She also noticed he’d gotten hard and that brought a blush to her cheeks. She nodded her head and indicated that she would listen. “Your father obviously sent me after you. Now, we can play this game one or two ways. You come with me and go back home. Or you keep running and I track you down each time.”

He came closer and in that moment, she realized that she was still topless and at his mercy. Abruptly she turned back to the door and screamed. “Damn you, Jean Grey. When I get my hands around your neck I’m going to squeeze the life out of you.” She turned back to Logan then. “Can you at least hand me my corset then. Please.” She added that for effect, not that it would have any on him.

He smirked and handed her the ridiculous garb. Xavier would have another heart attack if he realized the other man had seen his precious daughter naked.

“Thanks, Wolverine.” She began to lace it up and stopped when she noticed he was watching. “What?”
“Why this place? Why Silk and Smoke?” He waved his hands to indicate and get his point across.

She smirked going back to her task, and finishing up the laces and then letting her hands drop to her sides. “Why are you what you are?”

He slammed her against the door of the darkened room and she became aware that if he raped her, no one would help her because no one was on the other side of the glass. “And what is it you think you know about me, little girl, huh?”

She sneered up at him as he pressed himself against her. He was taller than her by a few inches. “I know you’re a killer.” She squirmed to get away from him but he only pressed harder. Suddenly he wound his hands through her hair.

“You got a pretty mouth on ya’ darlin.” He watched as her eyes became skittish and then he realized he was to close. To close to becoming someone else. He needed her to trust him, not be scared of him as if he was the fuckin boogeyman or some shit. He stepped away from her. “Look, I’m going to give you five minutes to get your shit. Clean out of this place and do it quickly.”

“You don’t own me,” she sneered lightly before she heard a resounding “click!” on the other side of the door and realized that someone had opened the door from the other side.

He nearly growled. “Darlin, you wouldn’t want me to own ya.”

“Okay, one, I’ma need you to stop calling me darlin. And two, did you just growl at me? Seriously?” She rolled her eyes at him and left the room. Once she reached the dressing room, a woman with fiery tresses made her appearances.

She cringed inwardly at the fact that he’d growled at her. Jesus! What a freak. He was obviously deprived of love as a child, she thought. So unlike her.

Charles had made sure she had the best of everything.
“How could you?” Ororo demanded of her so called best friend.

“How could I what?” Jean asked. “Look, ‘Ro, the man has been looking for you for a month. I have a business to run, honey. I’m sorry but he was scaring off customers.” Jean eyed her wearily.

“Really? This is about money. Jesus, Jean when did you become so fucking money-hungry?”

“This from the girl who lived life as Malibu-fucking Barbie. ‘Ro don’t give me this shit. Logan is obviously here for a real reason, not just to drag you back home.” A few of the girls in the back room turned to look at the two.

Ro sighed and leaned against the table that held the remnants of her life as exotic dancer. “I just don’t want to go back. There is nothing there for me anymore.”

“Your family is there.” Jean quirked an eyebrow. “And your hot brother.”

“Ewe! Jean I’ma need you to stop thinking of Scott like that.” She tapped her bottom lip. “Besides, Scott is still dating that gold-diggin ice bitch Emma Frost.” Ororo honestly disliked Emma for everything the other woman represented to her. She rolled her eyes mentally and turned back to Jean.

“You know you love your soon-to-be sister in law,” Jean smiled playfully.

“I hate that bitch,” Ro smirked. “Anyway, now that the feral caveman has come to drag me back home, I have no clue when I’ll see you again.”

“I know. I hate this part, Ro. I really do.” Jean looked like she was about to become weepy eyed like she usually did.

“I got it. Why don’t you take a few days off and come back with me.”

Emma gave her a look that said, girl please .

“You’ll get to see Scott,” Ororo through out there.

“Well…” and she was hooked. She hadn’t seen Scott since that summer they had made out in the rain, right after her freshman year at NYU. “Okay, but the first time Emma says something to me, I’m gonna go Jet Li on her ass.”

Ororo had no doubt about Jean doing just that. The other woman had one of those belts in karate.

“Alrighty then, now I just have to explain this to grumpy butt!”

Jean sighed, and Ororo laughed.





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