by Starr, Faith
“I did some research online and found one with positive reviews. Surprisingly, we’ve never been to it before. They posted pics of the dancers and shit, I got hard just looking at them.” Nick rubbed his palms together and licked his lips.
“That’s because they use models to entice customers to come. We’ve been to plenty of strip clubs where the pictures and dancers looked completely different,” Mason replied.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Let’s at least check the place out and decide for ourselves.”
Nick was on the move toward the front door. He was what we considered the man-whore of the bunch. One would think it would be Mason. There was something about drummers women found sexy. Could’ve also been because the guy was built like the Hulk. The dude was a lost cause, though, still pining after his first love, who I will add, wanted nothing to do with him. She left the guy with a hole in his heart the size of a crater.
What Mason should have been doing was taking advantage of all the women we had at our disposal. But no. Other than a few groupies here and there, he kept to himself. His rationale was that he needed closure before he could move on. What kind of shit was that? The dude was famous and had an abundance of women offering themselves to him. Naked women, mind you. Yet he turned them down left and right. My brother was missing out on the delectable buffets presenting themselves to him.
“I’m game to check it out.” Jonas followed Nick to the massive wooden front door.
Jonas may have been in his twenties, but he had the raging hormones of a teenager. He too was a ladies’ man, albeit more respectable and less overt about it than Nick, the partier of our quartet. Nick always took his behavior to the extreme.
“I’m driving.” Mason joined the other two at the front door and jiggled his keys.
I followed the group outside where we piled into Mason’s SUV. He wasn’t much of a drinker so had been nominated as the designated driver whenever the four of us went out together. I was the backup. Nick was the never. Jonas was the… Who knew what the hell Jonas was. I often wondered.
The lot at the club was packed. We parked a decent hike from the entrance.
The bulky bouncer manning the front entrance recognized us on the spot. It was on these occasions I dug the newfound fame thing. It came in handy, especially when we got to jump to the front of lines.
“Welcome to Club D’s. Don’t worry about the cover charge and the first round is on the house. I’ll make sure to let your server know.”
“Thanks, man.” Nick shook the guy’s hand with a firm grip. “We appreciate it.”
The rest of us shook the bouncer’s hand and gave our thanks as well.
“You kick ass on the drums.” The dude pointed his finger at Mason.
“Thanks.”
Mason wasn’t a man of many words with strangers. He was more of the introverted type, perfectly content being positioned in the back of the stage doing his thing, rather than in the forefront like the rest of us were, especially me.
We entered the dimly lit club. The blaring music overpowered the sensual ambiance, as in, scantily clad servers, some of who were grinding against customers at their tables.
Talk about loud. It was like being front and center at one of our shows. Where were my ear plugs when I needed them?
A long-legged blonde with tits spilling out of her tank top escorted us to a table near the stage. I was happy we weren’t seated near the speakers. Not that our distance from them dulled the sound. I could barely hear my thoughts.
She handed us drink menus and sashayed away, but not before making eyes at Nick.
“I’ll take one of those.” Nick tipped his head in the blonde’s direction, his gaze following her ass as she moved across the club.
“Wonder if the carpet matches the drapes.” Jonas checked her out as well.
“Who gives a shit? I’d be getting two for the price of one. And did you see the vibe she gave me? Any bets against the fact I’ll be fucking her later?”
Cocky bastard.
“She’s all yours.” I had no interest. Women in that category were a dime a dozen. We saw them on a nightly basis after our shows, all of them begging to get in our pants. I wasn’t in the mood for a mindless fuck. My thoughts kept drifting back to the adorable brunette who worked at my grandpa’s center.
“With the eyes she gave me, I’m all in.” Nick grinned wide.
Another hottie, this one holding a tray, approached our table. She flipped her tray over, ready to scribble our order on her notepad when she caught sight of us and lost her shit. Her mouth fell open, and her hands started trembling. A smile took over her entire face and her posture became more upright, giving us a better view of her rack.
“Wow. I love you guys. Your music is so deep.” If the tone of her voice had anything to say about it, nobody was home upstairs. That much I gathered even with the deafening music.
“You like things that are deep?”
Nick had moved on to his next conquest. Guess the first one had been too easy. He always did opt for a challenge. Sure, I too could be a cocky motherfucker if I wanted to be, but my grandfather had preached that I should treat women with the utmost respect. Open doors for them, pull their chairs out, the whole nine yards. And I would never speak to one in such a forthright manner, no matter how famous we became, unless it was with a woman I had been with for a while.
The waitress’s smile grew even wider. “Depends on what you’re referring to.”
“I think we’re both on the same page, babe.”
She could play coy all she wanted with the soft head tilt and slight blush she had going.
Another victory for Nick.
“I agree.”
What an annoying laugh she has.
The fact I heard it over the music proved how true my thought was.
“If you two are done, can I have a Sprite, please,” Mason interrupted.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She sucked in her bottom lip and wrote down Mason’s order. “I’ve been told the first round is on the house. Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger?”
“Nope. A plain Sprite is all.”
“Does anybody else want to order something?” Her eyes went to Nick’s.
“How about you? Are you on the menu?”
He wasn’t bashful one bit.
She giggled again.
Christ. This chick and fingernails scraping against a blackboard were one and the same.
“That could be arranged. I get off at one.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. You’ll get off when I’m ready for you too. As in, multiple times.”
Kinky asshole.
I sighed at the notion of how easily some women could give it away like it meant nothing.
And I’m one to talk?
“I can’t wait.” The waitress bounced up and down similar to how a giddy teenage fan who had just won a meet and greet with the band would. In a sense, she had. In her case, it would be a meet and greet with Nick’s dick.
“I’ll have a Heineken, please.” I’d had enough of this shitshow.
Jonas gave his order after I gave mine. “And I’ll take a scotch and soda.”
“I’ll take a Heineken too. Nothing strong for me tonight. I want to remain fully coherent.” Nick winked at her.
She licked her lips. Her chest rose and fell with more gusto.
“Can you please get our drinks? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m kind of thirsty.” Mason stared her down.
His frustration made me laugh for some reason. It also snapped the server back into reality.
“Oh, yes. Right away. I’m sorry.”
Yet, she stayed put.
Mason finally shooed her away and off she went.
Nick leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “That, my boys, is skill. The three of you should be taking notes instead of sitting here looking pretty.”
Mason picked up one of the cardboard coasters resting on the table and chucked it at
Nick’s head. Nick dodged it, and the thing landed on the floor next to our table.
“Your loss.” Nick shrugged.
“I’m crying over here.” Mason balled his hands into fists and pretend wiped fake tears.
“What happened to the hostess you’re supposed to be fucking by night’s end?” Jonas mocked.
“I’m always game for a threesome.”
There was no doubt in my mind that if Nick wanted one, he’d get his way. He usually did when it came to willing women.
A dude pushed through the curtain and pranced to the front of the stage. And I mean pranced. He was a pretty boy with full make-up and spandex pants in bright blue with hair that matched.
Showtime.
Not that I cared. The cutie at the memory care center was where my focus remained.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves at Club D’s. If your servers haven’t told you, which they better have”—he pointed at a few with mock reprimand—“tonight is two for one on specialty drinks. Friday night is ladies’ night. The first drink is on the house. What?” His voice hiked up a notch. “Bring your dates, your wives, your girlfriends, your mothers, your lovers, and come party with us.”
Our mothers? My mother wouldn’t even watch our videos because she thought they were too risqué.
“Tonight, we have several dazzling performers eager to entertain you. Remember, no touching is allowed. Our burly bouncers are manning the stage. If anything gets out of hand and we see any customers breaking the rules, they will be escorted out of the club. No exceptions. Club D’s provides visual pleasure. Nothing more.”
Yeah, right. I could only imagine what took place in the back rooms.
“Other than tipping our sultry temptresses, please keep your hands to yourselves. With that out of the way, I can’t wait to introduce our first act. She’s one of our newer girls so be extra gentle with her. She’s sensitive, and her feelings get hurt easily. Please give it up for Lissette!” He guided his hand in the direction of the red velvet curtain behind him which opened in the center. He strutted across the stage and exited, using a small staircase on the right.
Lissette strolled out wearing satin pink girlie pajamas with white polka dots and white fluff trim along the edges of the sleeves and short-shorts. Her hair was pulled in a high ponytail. Instinctively, I cringed. The whole little girl shtick she had going was the ultimate turn off. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to predict she was going to become a bad girl as her act progressed.
No thanks. She’d lost me from the get-go with her adolescent gestures. How anyone else in the club found it appealing was a question I didn’t want the answer to. I tugged my phone out of my pocket and checked out our band’s social media pages. Our media team was always adding new stuff to them.
Jonas elbowed me and tipped his chin toward the performer. I brushed him off with the back of my hand.
Our drinks arrived. The server set them in front of us, of course standing next to Nick while delivering them. She demonstrated a few of her own seductive moves. I paid her no mind. My phone was more entertaining, and my drink quenched my sudden thirst.
The MC returned to the stage after Lissette’s departure to introduce the next stripper. It must have been our server’s signal to scram because she took flight. For whatever reason, I wasn’t digging this outing. Staying home to work on music would have been more fun.
“Hey, watch it!”
A server fell against my back, her drinks spilling—luckily, not on me. I acted fast, preventing her from falling on her ass. She regained her balance and adjusted her mini skirt, all the while her back toward me.
She righted the glasses on her tray. Using the now damp cocktail napkins on it, she tried to stop the rainfall of alcohol dripping off the sides and onto the carpet. I rose and handed her a stack from our table.
“Thanks.” She took the napkins from me and patted the damp liquid with them. “I’m sorry. The customer at the next table tried to grab me.” She finally gave me her full attention.
Holy shit!
“Ryan?”
“Lizzie?”
Her brows fell, and her body stiffened. “Forgive me for crashing into you.” She pulled her skirt lower. It didn’t help. It still revealed the small crease underneath her ass—a nice ass too. Interestingly, I wanted to pull the fabric even lower so other men in the club wouldn’t gawk at her like I seemed to be doing.
“I’m glad you did,” I replied.
She took a step back.
“I mean, I would’ve hated for you to get hurt because that jackass over there couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” Using my chin, I pointed in the direction of the guilty party at the next table. The guy was drunk off his ass.
“Oh. Yeah. Right. Thanks for breaking my fall.”
“I wasn’t aware you had a second job.”
“Yup. Sure do. What can I say?” She shrugged. “It pays the bills. Anyway, if you’ll please excuse me, I have to get refills on these drinks.” She darted off to the bar, taking a peek at me over her shoulder during her mad dash. I smiled. She didn’t.
I returned to my seat.
“What was that all about?” Mason leaned in to ask.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Your entire face lit up when you saw her. Do you know her or something?”
“Not really.” But I wanted to. Now more than ever. Why was the sweet and patient activities teacher from the center working in this shithole, of all places? Fine, it was an upscale club but still. And seeing her saunter off in that barely-there skirt pissed me off. I wanted to clobber the animal at the next table for trying to put his paws on such pure skin.
What the hell? Why was I getting worked up over her lack of clothing? Or that another man tried to touch her? For all I knew, she could be making extra cash in the back rooms by providing lap dances and blowjobs. The thought alone riled me up higher.
Nah. Not Lizzie.
My gut told me she belonged anywhere but in a place like this.
4
Lizzie
Of all people, Ryan had to be at the club. Sure, I didn’t owe him an explanation or anything. After all, I had only met the guy once. The issue was, I kept this life and my life at the center separate. They were two different entities that I didn’t want colliding. Try, couldn’t let collide. I had too much to lose if anyone found out about my job at the club. The old adage that we were only as sick as our secrets was true. But in this instance, I didn’t have much of a choice but to keep them.
Damn Ryan for showing up!
Oh well. There was nothing I could do about it now. I would simply go on with my night and finish out my shift.
Wait… Back to Ryan. It bugged me to see him at the club. Not that I knew him from a hole in the wall, but it disappointed me to know he was the strip-club type. Then again, what guy wasn’t? And he seemed so surprised to see me. As surprised as I was to see him.
“Lizzie?”
“Huh?”
“Your drinks. They’re ready.”
“Oh. Sorry, Mike. I zoned out for a minute. Busy night.”
The bartender shoved the drinks toward me, narrowing his eyes at my odd behavior. “It always is.”
“Good thing too, right?” I placed the glasses on my tray and redelivered them to the patrons.
While passing Ryan’s table, I glanced at him to find him looking at me as well. I broke the eye contact first, not wanting to take another tumble and spill the tray of beverages I was carrying.
With the cocktails delivered I took a bathroom break. For some reason, Ryan had me on edge. Men didn’t affect me that way. I did a superb job of keeping myself in check at all times. Plus, after working at a strip club for so long, I had learned to separate myself from my job as a server so I could go home with my self-respect intact.
I splashed cold water on my face.
Which dancer caught Ryan’s eye?
What if he asks one of them to go w
ith him into a private room? Worse, what if he asks me?
Oh my God! Who knows what he thinks about me now?
Thinking about either scenario irked me.
Whatever. I couldn’t let Mr. Sexy Pants distract me from my job. Men harassed me at this place. It was part of the package. I shrugged them off and ignored their advances, always keeping my eyes on the prize: the wad of cash I brought home with me.
I fixed my high ponytail by tugging my hair in various places to make it even all around. With that task complete, I exited the bathroom, bumping into of all people, Ryan. I grabbed my chest, startled. Had he been looking for me? Woohoo, if he had.
“Hi, Lizzie.”
“Ryan.” I had difficulty catching my breath.
Because of him!
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
How sweet.
Stand your ground. He might be working you to get you in a back room.
Even though I didn’t agree with that last thought, my guard was up again. “Why wouldn’t I be? I had to use the restroom.”
“K. I was just checking.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m good. I’m used to all this.” I waved my hand toward the main stage and bar area.
Yup, I was used to strangers trying to cop a feel and making disgusting and derogatory comments to me.
“Are you?” He cocked a brow.
“If you don’t mind, I have to get back to work.”
When I went to leave, he grabbed my wrist. It wasn’t an aggressive act. Far from it. I snapped around. “What?”
He released my hand and held his up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. You just don’t seem the like type to work here.”
“You don’t know anything about me or my circumstances.” I hated to sound so bitchy, but I didn’t need him frowning upon my choice of employment. Was it my top choice for a job? No, but the high cash flow made it more than worthwhile.
“I didn’t mean it that way either. Guess I can’t say the right thing tonight.”
The defeat on his face had me feeling bad for jumping at him.
“Let me ask you a question?”