Daddy’s Possessive Friend
Kelli Callahan
Copyright © 2020 by Kelli Callahan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Cruel Temptations
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Chapter One
Kiana
I shouldn’t be here.
Not behind this curtain. Not on this stage. Nowhere near this club.
My parents named me Kiana because it means full of grace. There’s nothing graceful about what I’m about to do. As soon as my music plays, I’m going to step into the light and take off my clothes—for men who will throw money at me until the music stops. My body has never been touched by a man, but tonight, I’m going to let strangers salivate over it.
This isn’t the life my parents wanted for me, but I’ve never been much more than a disappointment.
Now I’m going to live out their worst nightmare.
And mine.
I wish I had a choice.
“Gentlemen, you’re in for a real treat when our next performer hits the stage! She comes from Sin City, and trust me—she loves to sin. Give it up for…” The DJ hits my music before he rattles off my stage name. “…the beautiful, vivacious, Lavender Rose!”
That’s my cue.
Lavender for the color of my wig. Rose for the color of my lipstick. One of the other dancers told me the contrast will get the crowd excited. It will make them think about my lips, doing things I don’t even want to imagine. Anything for one more dollar. I’m adopting their philosophy as my own, because every dollar brings me closer to freedom.
The curtains open, and I take a step forward. It’s time for the show to begin—my show—but this isn’t the stage I expected to be on when I made my grand debut.
I’m wearing an outfit that is both provocative and taboo. I’m young, barely nineteen, and the owner of the club told me I need to accentuate that. That’s why I’m dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl, even though I’m not sure if there is a God, and I’ve certainly never been to church. If he’s up there, he abandoned my family a long time ago, and I found a way to send my soul straight to hell.
The other girls made this look so easy—classy in a twisted sort of way. I don’t know how to do that.
The guys who watch me begin my routine don’t care. I’m their fantasy—their dirty thoughts—the things they would never admit to anyone outside of these walls.
“Take it off, darling! Let me see those tits!” A man to my right tells me what he wants to see, and I tease him with a devious smile as I begin to oblige.
My mother taught me to respect my elders, and the guy with lust in his eyes is old enough to be my grandfather. I wonder if he has a wife, children, grandchildren my age; do they know that he comes to a seedy strip club after they’re safely tucked into bed? I hope not. His vulgar comments continue as my clothes begin to land on the stage. Others join him; they demand my body like it’s nothing more than a commodity, which is what it is tonight.
The dollars begin to hit the stage. I’m not allowed to pick them up. In any other strip club, I could tuck them into my panties, but those aren’t staying on. I have to let the money stay where it is until I’m done. Someone will gather my ill-gotten gains for me when the lights come on. I have to trust them not to steal what I’ve earned.
“Come closer, baby!” A younger guy who looks like he should be at home doing his homework for college waves a five-dollar bill at me. I do what he asks.
They like my breasts. The moment they’re revealed, more money starts to land at my feet—or gets tucked in my panties when I’m close to them. They’re not supposed to touch me. I glance nervously at the bouncer, but he doesn’t seem to care. That rule must not apply if they’re waving money. I consider running off the stage, but I keep moving. I keep a smile on my face, and I let them touch me as long as their hands don’t linger.
I wonder how many compromises I’ll be forced to make before I have enough money to pay off my brother’s debt.
“Stop teasing us, little girl! I want to see what I paid for!” A guy to my left, who has been generous, points at my skirt, but that isn’t the only thing he wants me to take off.
I play the song in my head. It’s past the halfway point. I’m supposed to wrap up when it ends. I try to pace my steps and ignore the demands of the crowd. One of the other dancers told me not to drop my panties until the last thirty seconds, otherwise they’ll get to see too much and won’t care about the girl who takes the stage after me. She’s been doing this for a while, so it sounds logical.
I make my mind go elsewhere, anywhere but where I am. I think about the happy times in my life, even if there haven’t been many, because that seems better than living in the moment. That will probably be easier in the future. It’s almost impossible right now, but I do my best.
I feel like I’m about to vomit.
“You want this; don’t you, darling?” The older man moves closer to the stage and waves a twenty.
I do want it, but to walk over and let him push it into the waistband of my panties makes me feel less human. I have no idea how the women backstage do this every night. I’m going to find out, but I can’t wrap my head around it right now. The moment I don’t want to live in is the only one I can focus on.
“I put my phone number on this.” A guy next to the stage grins as he drops a five-dollar bill at my feet. “Call me if you want to make some real money tonight.”
I almost vomit when I realize what he’s insinuating. I won’t be calling him. I’ll be lucky if I’m not curled up in a ball crying my eyes out when I’m done for the night.
I hear the musical cue. It’s time. I push my panties down, and the money cascades to the floor. The dead presidents create a circle of shame around my feet as I expose myself to the crowd. I have a routine to do, one that gives them a glimpse and nothing more. I remember the steps as I move to the pole and complete my dance.
I’m dying inside, and I wish that feeling would spread through my body. I want to be put out of my misery, but that isn’t an option.
Misery is my penance.
“You did good out there tonight, honey.” Rhonda, who goes by Ravishing Rachel when she’s on the stage, walks up as I’m removing my makeup.
“Did I?” I ask, with a mixture of sarcasm and sorrow in my voice.
Rhonda is confident, strong, and she loves her job. I knew that within five minutes of meeting her. I wish I had some of that. It would make things easier.
“Yes, you’ll be a natural
in no time.” She leans forward and gives me a hug from behind.
“I’m not sure about that,” I say as a sigh passes across my lips.
“The guys loved you. That’s what matters. If you make money, Max makes money, and if Max makes money, you keep dancing.” Rhonda begins to twist the top off the pendant she’s wearing, and it separates to reveal a tiny spoon filled with white powder. “Want a hit?”
“No,” I reply quickly but remember my manners. “No thank you.”
I can’t tell if Rhonda is upset with my choice or has simply lost interest in me. She mutters a few things after snorting what I assume is cocaine and leaves to check on one of the other dancers.
I’m alone again. It feels better than trying to carry on a conversation. I just want to scrub the makeup off my face and go home. I see a bouncer walk by my dressing room and reach for something to cover my breasts, then I remember that he’s already seen them. Covering up doesn’t even matter at this point.
“Not bad, Kiana.” Max’s voice echoes behind me, and he walks into my dressing room. I do cover up when he enters—even if he did see me on the stage.
“That’s for me?” I motion to the money in his right hand.
“Yes.” He nods and throws the money down on the table beside me. “Why are you taking off your makeup? You’re not done.”
“I thought I only had to do one dance tonight.” I blink in surprise, and a feeling of uneasiness settles into my stomach.
“One dance, yes.” He nods and motions toward the club. “But I want you on the floor until closing.”
“Oh.” I look down and feel a lump rising in my throat. “I didn’t realize I was doing that tonight. You said…”
“I know what I said, but that was before you made them fall in love with you.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Put your outfit back on, and go give them all a reason to come back tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” A feeling of defeat settles into my veins, but I simply nod in agreement with his request.
Max watches me while I dress. He doesn’t even pretend to look away. I do my best to reapply my makeup, but I don’t put as much on as I wore when I was on the stage. Max gives me a slap on my ass when I finally walk through the door. I’ve seen him do that to some of the other girls too. Most of them smile, so I do as well, even though I don’t want his hands on me at all.
I wish I could hate Max. He gives me the creeps. It just isn’t that easy.
Nothing like this ever is.
I walk out into the club, and the bartender calls me over. He gives me a few drinks on a tray and points out a table. Guys stare at me as I walk by. There are comments—dirty, filthy comments. I smile and pretend that they excite me, because that’s what Max expects. I watch some of the other girls and see how they flirt with the patrons, so I try to do the same thing. I feel foolish, but the guys don’t care what I’m saying. They just want to stare, fantasize, pretend.
“I was hoping you would come out here tonight.” The older man, the one old enough to be my grandfather, smiles at me when I set a glass of whiskey in front of him.
“I’m just delivering drinks.” I smile at him.
“How much to go back there?” He motions to the curtains where the girls take the guys that pay for a lap dance.
“I’m sorry; I’m not allowed do that yet.” I shake my head and pretend not to be happy that I have to turn him down. “Maybe in a few weeks…”
“I’ll be your first customer then.” He flashes a devious grin, and it looks ridiculous. “Save your first dance for me; I’m here every night. The name’s Bill.”
“Okay, Bill.” I nod and almost introduce myself as Kiana but catch the name on my tongue; he already knows my stage name. “I can’t wait!” It comes out with more enthusiasm than I intended because I almost got tongue-tied.
I have no idea if I’ll even have a say about who I take behind the curtain when I’m allowed to do it. I make a mental note to mention Bill’s request to Max. If he comes into the club on a regular basis, Max will probably let him pop my lap dance cherry.
I’m not looking forward to it.
Chapter Two
Bram
One week later
I hate strip clubs. The only reason I’m here is because my newest client is a punk kid who just turned twenty-one and has never been to one. Trust fund kids. I hate them almost as much as I hate strip clubs, but his daddy’s money is going to save my company, so I have to pretend that I’m happy with his choice of entertainment for the evening.
“Do you want a drink?” I look over at the spoiled brat I’m babysitting, Clarence Jackson IV—people call him Jack.
“Hell yeah, bro.” He flashes his billion-dollar smile and walks over to the bar.
Bro. Another entry on the list of things I hate. It’s a new addition—I added it ten minutes after I met Jack.
“His drinks are on me.” I hand the bartender my company credit card before Jack can place his order.
“Let me get…” Jack taps his chin a couple of times. “Vodka! The good shit.”
“You want a drink or a shot?” The bartender glances at the bottles on the top shelf.
“Both, bro! Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.” Jack grins.
“Coming right up.” The bartender and I exchange glances. He shrugs. I do the same.
“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.” I point at the bottle I want.
Jack downs his shot as soon as it is placed on the bar, then grabs his glass. He walks to a table while I wait for my whiskey. When I turn around, I see that he has chosen a table that is as close to the stage as possible. Just fucking fantastic. We’re going to be so close that we will have to throw money at the girls or look like a couple of assholes. It’s a good thing I carry cash.
“This place is lit, yo!” Jack grins at me as I sit down. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“Yeah,” I say as I take a drink of my whiskey.
I miss the days when my life didn’t require me to cater to the whims of assholes with more money than common sense. I never thought I would see the day when I could say I preferred combat over civilian life. So many of those days have passed me by now that I’ve lost count.
“I like her.” Jack’s grin gets wider as a woman who is introduced as Salacious Sandy saunters to the stripper pole. “Do you think it’s one of those places?”
“What do you mean by those places?” I grunt my response at him.
“You know what I mean, bro.” He nudges me. “Can I take her home if I like what I see?”
“I have no fucking idea.” I reach into my pocket and pull out some money so I can tip Jack’s new infatuation; it looks like his only intention is to drool.
“Well, find out for me.” He snatches a couple of bills and tosses them at the stage.
“Yes, sir…” I avoid a disrespectful reply, somehow.
The list of things I hate is getting long, but I think there’s still room to add solicitation to it. I have no intention of asking the owner of this club if the girls on the stage moonlight as prostitutes when their music ends, but I’ll let Jack think that is why I’m leaving the table.
I walk to the bar, make conversation with the bartender, and then disappear out of Jack’s line of sight once I have a fresh drink in my hand. I’ll get another one on my way back to the table. If there’s a god in heaven, he’ll make my current trip to hell as short as possible. There’s no reason for Jack to be in a place like this. If he wants a girl, he’s got the money to get someone a lot better than the ones on the stage.
I know that for a fact.
I’ve had my fair share of girls who chase money without taking their clothes off—professionally, at least.
Maybe Jack is just too young to know better. He certainly wouldn’t be investing in my fucking company if he had as much sense as dollars in his bank account. Then again, he didn’t earn a single one of them. At least I intend to do something good with the check he’s going to write. It’s enough to sav
e my company and keep an awful lot of people from standing in the unemployment line; enough to end the financial woes my company has been under since my best friend decided it was time to cash out.
“Bad news, Jack.” I take a seat at the table across from him. “You can get a lap dance, but that’s about it.”
“Well, that sucks ass.” He folds his arms across his chest like a toddler that’s about to start pouting. “Maybe we should go somewhere else…”
“That’s your call.” I sip my drink and shrug. “If you’re ready to go, so am I.”
“Hold up, this girl’s cute.” He motions to the girl that is walking toward the pole. “Let’s stay a little bit longer.”
I pull out my money, and Jack grabs some of it. He has a lot more to spare than I do, but I’m not going to complain. I motion for one of the waitresses to bring him another drink. If I can get him drunk, my night might end a lot earlier than he intends for it to. He’s barely more than a kid. He might have some tolerance from his college years, but I doubt he knows a damn thing about pacing.
“Thanks, babe.” Jack winks at the waitress and stares at her cleavage as he hands her a tip.
“Wait.” I put my hand on her arm. “He’s supposed to get a shot of vodka with every drink you serve him; the bartender should have explained that.”
“Good looking out, bro.” Jack grins. “Yeah, babe, hook me up.”
The waitress gives me the same confused stare that I got from the bartender when Jack essentially ordered the same drink twice, but she simply nods in agreement. My plan is one step closer to becoming reality. With any luck, he’ll be waking up in his bed tomorrow with a headache, and I can fill him in on all the adventures he never had. It’s not like he’ll remember either way.
Daddy's Possessive Friend (Once Upon a Daddy Book 12) Page 1