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“Hey, girl, hey,” Crystal shouts at me before sticking her tongue out as I drop my bag on the counter at my station.
“Hey yourself. How’s it been so far?”
“Little slow, but there’s two biker hotties out there dropping lots of cake. We could make a nice payday. They are fishing for a little something, something. Know what I’m saying?” She flips her sleek dark hair over her shoulder. “You know we make a good team.”
“Bikers?” I scrunch my nose thinking of the fat smelly bastards that were through here a few weeks back. They were terrible tippers, grabby, and rude. I unzip my bag and pull out my heels.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Crystal dabs a sponge across the bridge of her nose. “But trust.” She thrusts a palm outward in my direction flashing the tips of her neon green nails at me. “I said hot. I know hot. These men are sexy, and they got the paper. I need a good payday. Bruno’s been breathing down my neck.”
At the mention of Bruno is when I see the dark shading under her right eye. The dickhead is always broke.
“You’ve gotta cut loose of him. He’s a user and he hits you.” I know I shouldn’t say anything. It’s not like she will ever listen.
“He’s Dayvon’s daddy. Been with him since I was thirteen. I love him. And yeah, I know he’s a leech but he’s what I got. Period. So, we gonna nail these bikers tonight or what?” She adjusts her boobs in her red sequined bikini style top.
Bruno is a shitbag who knocked her up at fifteen. Who also doesn’t have a job and takes her car all the damn time to do who knows what while Crystal foots the damn bill.
Men like him are why I’m single. Men like my ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Men who think they can play women for a fool. He was nothing but red flags. Caught him in so many lies. He lied about his truck. The fact that he lived with his momma still. I didn’t need to be impressed. I wanted honesty. He only gave it to me because I caught him, but if he would lie about simple shit then what else was he going to lie about? I couldn’t deal with that. Had to cut him loose. Cute or not.
I unzip my hoodie and kick off my sneakers before I shimmy out of my leggings. I could use the extra money. I live on my own and rent here isn’t cheap. Some of the other girls live together to pool resources. I could get a roommate, but I prefer to be on my own. Less drama.
Lord knows there’s plenty of it to go around. I work with some catty bitches.
I dust my shoulders with some body glitter. I toss my shit back in my bag and secure it in my locker. Layla is working tonight, and we all know the whore has sticky fingers. “Let’s go make it rain.” I smirk and slip into my heels, securing the straps around my ankles.
I follow Crystal out to work these bikers and get them into the champagne room. Everyone will tell you there is no sex allowed. It’s the golden rule but on occasion Dirty Tony is known to break rules for personal favors outside the club. Sometimes he hooks us up with side parties and runs security for us behind Lefty’s back. He ever found out how much money was exchanging hands behind his back he’d kill us all. He tries to run a tight ship. Noses clean. No drama. No spouses or lovers allowed while you’re on the floor or the pole.
All it is, is a fight waiting to happen.
I stop off at the bar and get my courtesy shot of liquid courage to loosen me up before I hit the stage for my first set. I bring the glass to my lips and tip it back fast, following with a lemon. My lips pucker every damn time. My skin crackles in awareness. I glance around the dark room searching for the source of the weird vibe I’m getting. Call it self-preservation or intuition. I learned at a young age to always trust my instincts because you can never trust other people.
There’s something to be said about the atmosphere of a gentleman’s club. Dim lights. Hot bodies. Fat wallets. Liquor flowing. Music pulsing through the speakers. Blood pumping fast. Money hungry women desperate for attention and lonely men eager to give both.
I spot a few regulars, but Crystal was right. I clock two biker hotties. Daylight and dark. By that I mean the first guy is tall and broad with light hair. Not my type but hot, nonetheless. The other guy is what I call tall, dark, and deadly. Me-fucking-ow. His gaze meets mine and a shiver courses up and down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck spikes.
The urge to down a second shot hits me. I turn back to the bar. “I need another,” I tell Jazz. She’s on bar duty tonight. She must still be on Lefty’s shit list for getting a little too touchy with a few customers last week.
“You know the rules.” She smirks while pouring me a double.
“You’re a gem.” I knock it back then look back to where the biker hotties were to find them gone. Weird.
No matter. I got an ass to shake and money to make. I see Crystal leading the biker with blond hair and tribal tats to one of the private rooms. Guess that means his friend is all mine.
“Another shot for the beautiful lady,” a voice grates in my ear smoother than butter.
I suck in a breath and straighten my shoulders. “Thank you.” I meet the gaze of the dark-haired biker. He smiles and my insides go all warm and lusty. He has a great smile. One that seems familiar. “Have we met before?”
“Maybe in my dreams or a past life,” he tells me.
Every cell in my body is aware of him in ways I can’t explain. There’s something about him. Surely, I’d remember him if we’ve met. His hand brushes against my hip and one simple touch sets me on fire. My nipples tingle with anticipation of more.
Jazz places a shot on the bar.
“Bottoms up,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around the base of the glass filled with what is likely water. Lefty likes us fun but not drunk. I knock it back. My lips pucker as the liquid coats the back of my throat and burns in the pit of my stomach.
“Suck,” the word leaves his lips like a command as he presses a lemon wedge to mine. It’s hard to make out the color of his eyes due to the poor lighting in here.
What is it about this sexy stranger that has me wanting to drop to my knees to suck something else entirely? Our fingers graze and I close my eyes at his touch. The sounds of the club fade away. The music. The men. Everything but his thumb brushing lemon juice from my chin before licking it off the pad. Thoughts of him touching me everywhere and him kissing me consume me until his hand drops and the spell he pulled me under breaks. I put the lemon in my empty shot glass.
“Good girl.” Two words nearly undo me and have me throwing myself at him.
What can I say? I have daddy issues.
“Honey, you’re on,” Jazz says, and I can only nod.
I’m afraid if I open my mouth to speak, I’m going to say something embarrassing like push me against the wall and kiss me stupid or fuck me even.
Crazy stupid is what I am.
I don’t know this man, but I’m drawn to him. Like magnets. I crave him. Like I said, he’s tall with dark, silky hair that keeps falling into his eyes.
There’s a dangerous air about him. Maybe its his tattoos or his black leather cut, but I’ve always had a thing for damaged bad boys.
My feet move on their own. My music starts and I nearly miss my cue. I blink and take a breath. Time to focus on what I’m really here for. Money. Not being stupid over a man I don’t know. I can’t afford to lose control and yet when I sense his attention on me as I wrap a leg around the pole that is exactly what I want to do.
Let go of all my inhibitions.
I do a slow half turn never losing sight of him as he moves closer to take in the view of me gyrating in a simple black bra and booty hugging coordinating shorts.
His dark gaze holds promises of him fulfilling my every desire.
I try my best to block him out and get lost in the beat of the music. Moving my body fluidly like I’ve done what seems like a million times before. I’m a huntress and these men are my prey. It’s not supposed to be the other way around. But as I dance and watch him watching me, I know the tables are turned, and I could easily get addicted to the high of being chased. I tease at unhooking my bra, giving him a peepshow of my nipples, feeling sexier than I ever have.
I’d like to say it’s the liquor giving me a confidence a boost, but it’s him. The way he’s watching me. Like he wants to come up on this stage and fuck me six ways to Sunday.
I drop to my knees, crawling to the edge of the stage where he stands. His lips curve around the brown bottle of beer as he sucks back a drink. The muscles in his throat move with the action beneath the ink of his tattoo that covers most of his neck. I can’t make it out from this angle, but something tells me its hella sexy.
Spreading my thighs, I roll my hips. My breasts bounce up and down as my hair whips across my face. I shift to my back and pump my hips. Money showers over my body, but I ignore it and continue the show hoping for a good night.
Trailing my fingers between my breasts I pretend they belong to him. Carving a path to where I want his face between my thighs with that tongue he’s teasing along the seam of his lips. I run my fingers along the crotch of my shorts as though I’m fucking my own hand. I never get turned on when I dance but tonight is different. My sexy biker isn’t like other men that much I know. They come for the fantasy but the way he staring at me it’s as though he’s here for me. Only me.
It thrills and scares the shit out of me.
I finish my set and Crystal is on her way out of the room. She grabs my arm. “You and me plus the biker hotties after closing. Girl, he had a load of cash on him. We leave Dirty Tony out of this one. I have that good shit. Swiped it off Bruno. He won’t care when I bring home extra paper. Besides, I need laid, and that limp dick motherfucker owes me a night. I know he’s been fucking around with Latonya again.”
“His other baby mama?”
“Yeah. Nasty bitch. Don’t even take care of their daughter. Dumped her and her three other brats on her momma and sister. Least I take care of me and mine.”
I grimace and keep my mouth shut. There’s nothing I can say I’ve not said till I’ve turned blue in the face. Bruno finds out she fucked a biker he’ll beat her and take her money. Though he’ll probably do it anyway so who am I to judge her for getting her kicks where she can.
I still wish she’d leave his ass. Crystal deserves better. I get so damn mad at her because she should want better too. This isn’t the life I would’ve chosen for myself, but it’s the hand I was dealt.
I touch up my lipstick and think about my tall, dark, and sexy biker.
I could go for some fun myself.