Two Is Better Than One (Steamy Menage MFM Romance Collection)

by Terry Towers

  He did have a point. Why should we care? Wasn’t being happy the most important thing? If we weren’t hurting anyone, then why would it matter?

  After a minute or two to consider it, I nodded, smiling. “You’re right. We’ll both marry her, and the three of us will be together forever.”

  “She’s going to be so excited. She gets us both!” Sam returned my grin. “This is going to be so much fun.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Yup.”

  Chapter 6

  Present

  Andrea

  Sinners. Whores. Sex is not love. Go back to your wives, sinners. They were chanting, toting signs with various slogans. I shook my head as a walked past them, waving off pamphlets they were attempting to pass me.

  “You don’t need to whore your body,” a woman said to me, grabbing my forearm as I was about to clear the group.

  “Get your hands off of me!” I pulled my arm from her grasp and shot her a dirty look. How dare someone assume I was a stripper or have the nerve to tell me what to do with my body! If I wanted to dance for a living, I’d damned well do it. It’s not something that ever crossed my mind, but then again, until last night, being a porn actress hadn’t been on my radar either—although the whole cam thing was now officially out the window. It just wasn’t something I could do, but I certainly didn’t fault those who did.

  I passed my ID to the bodyguard as I approached him. I heard someone yell “whore” behind me. I had no doubt they were referring to me.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the guard said, giving me a sympathetic smile as he passed my driver’s licence back to me.

  “Are they out here every night?”

  He snorted. “Pretty much. I swear, those people must have some sorry-ass lives if standing out there harassing patrons is their hobby. Again, I apologize.”

  “No need.” With a nod, I walked past him and into the club.

  The lighting was dim, with a spotlight on the stage. A stunning Latina woman was currently onstage, swaying her hips and grinding against the pole to the song “Pony” by Ginuwine. I really loved the song she was dancing to and found myself swaying to the music as I stood in the back of the club watching.

  “It’s about time you showed up!”

  Huh? I looked over to my left and frowned as a lean, middle-aged man quickly approached me. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just anxious, but either way, he wasn’t happy.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t…”

  “You should have been here twenty minutes ago!” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a bill. “Here’s your money upfront. Plus whatever tips you get, you keep. The flat fee is only good for this rehearsal. If I hire you, you’ll be dancing for tips, and the club gets a 20 percent cut.”

  “But I don’t…”

  He placed the hundred dollar bill into my hand. “We need to hurry. Chastity and Barbie have already done a triple. You’ve missed two slots already.”

  Either he didn’t care or wasn’t interested in listening. I have to say that I was too surprised to know what to think or say as he ushered me across the club and toward a door that said Employees Only.

  I looked down at the bill in my hand. I certainly couldn’t deny I could use the money right now. But to strip for it? I’d taken some dance lessons when I was younger and as a teenager, but that wasn’t exactly the same type of dance these people had in mind. I’d never even done a lap dance for a boyfriend before. Not that I was expected to do a lap dance…or was I?

  My gaze shifted from the bill that I stuffed into my jeans pocket to the man I presumed to be the manager or owner or whatever. A bolt of panic shot through me. What in the hell was I thinking? I couldn’t do this.

  “Please. Listen.” I stopped in my tracks, refusing to budge until he listened to me. “This is a mistake.”

  The manager let out a loud huff as he slowly turned to face me with a look of annoyance on his face. As his eyes locked to mine, his expression softened. “Is this your first time?”

  I nodded.

  He took a couple steps towards me and stopped a couple feet away, then placed a hand on my shoulder. “Look, all of the new girls get nervous the first time. Once you’re on stage, it’s fine. Just a little pre-show jitters. Girls here make good money.”

  My curiosity peaked, overruling my hesitation. “How good?”

  “If they like you, then you should have no problem scoring a few hundred per dance. There’s a bachelor party sitting up front, and they’re throwing money out like it’s candy.”

  After a moment's hesitation, I nodded. “I’ll do one dance, and if this isn’t for me, I walk.”

  The look of annoyance surfaced in his expression again, and he shook his head. “Fine. Deal.” He turned without waiting for me respond. “Now hurry up!”

  Closing my eyes, I gave myself a brief pep talk, then raced to catch up to him. I’ll do it. Just once. Just to see. I caught up to him at a door marked Dressing Room.

  “Go in, pick out a costume from the rack, and meet me back out here in five minutes. I’ll escort you to the stage.”

  Five minutes? That’s it? I didn’t question him, but nodded, and when he opened the door, I scurried into the room. As I was entering the room, I was nearly knocked over by a young woman in a maid outfit. She didn’t even attempt to apologize, just shooting me a dirty look as she exited.

  Alrighty, then… A few manners wouldn’t hurt.

  Whatever. With the shake of my head, I scanned the dressing room. There were six women in various stages of dress, all frantically getting in and out of outfits. Along one wall was a line of vanity tables, most with a name taped at the top. There were three from the row of roughly fifteen with no names.

  As I continued to scan the room, my eyes spotted a long rack, roughly twenty feet long with dozens of outfits hanging from it. Realizing I’d spent at least two of my allotted five minutes standing at the center of the room taking in my surroundings, I sprang into action. I wasn’t sure what would happen if I went past the five minutes—not like he could spank me and send me to my room, but regardless, I rushed to the rack and quickly began thumbing through them.

  Nurse. Schoolgirl. Cowgirl. Naughty policewoman. I chuckled at a number of the costumes. How in the hell was I expected to wear these skimpy things on stage?

  You’re not only supposed to wear them, but take them off, a little voice in the back of my head chimed. I forced the voice from my mind. I’m going to do this, for myself. Just a one-time crazy thing. Nothing wrong with that, nothing at all. No one has to know.

  Suddenly, a shiny red custom caught my eye. Pulling it out, I discovered it to be something out of a burlesque. The removable skirt was short in the front and long on the back, black lace lining the edges. Black ribbon laced up the very low-cut corset. The bodice also had the black lace edging. It came with a black top hat and black cane. Grinning, I gathered the dress, hat, and cane in my arms, ran over to a bench, and deposited them on it. Not wasting anytime, I began stripping off my clothes. It just so happened that I was wearing a black thong. What in the hell was I expected to do if I hadn’t? Or if I hadn’t been wearing underwear at all?

  I didn’t have time to ponder, as I heard him calling to me from the other side of the door.

  Shit, shit, shit! I looked down at myself. I couldn’t do this. I was out of my mind. Nope, I wasn’t going to do it.

  “I need you out here!” It was the manager again.

  “You better get out there, Vince doesn’t like to be left waiting, it messes with the whole lineup.” I looked over to see a pretty, petite brunette woman staring at me. When she realized she had my attention, she held out her hand to me. “Bonnie. And you’re the new girl?”

  “Umm.” I took her hand and gave it a brief shake, looking nervously towards the door. “Felicia.” I’m not sure where the name Felicia came from, but it seemed to pop from my mouth before I could even give it much thought.

  “You’d better go—we can talk later.”
Bonnie gave me a nudge towards the door, and I allowed myself to be urged forward. I didn’t think, I just started walking towards the stage. Once there, I took a deep breath in and slowly released it, gripping the door handle, twisting it and exiting.

  I didn’t have time to think, as the manager took my arm and nearly ran me down a new corridor. The music became louder as walked until we came to the back end of a set of red velvet drapes.

  The manager grabbed a walkie from his back pocket and after pressing a button said, “The new girl is coming up. Put on Lady Marmalade as soon as Candy finishes up.”

  Lady Marmalade? Damn, I barely knew that song.

  After a moment, the music that was playing stopped, there was a hearty set of applause and whistles, and then a blonde with insanely big boobs came bouncing through the curtain, her skin a sheen of oil, glitter, and sweat. I didn’t miss the bundle of bills clutched in her hands and in her g-string. Hundreds of dollars!

  My nervousness skyrocketed. I hadn’t even oiled up. Was I supposed to? Would I even make close to as much?

  “They’re ripe for you, kid.” Candy gave me a pat on the shoulder and scurried off.

  Lady Marmalade began to play.

  Oh god, oh god, oh god. I started to turn to get away, run back to the changing room, get dressed and get the fuck out of there. But Vince had other ideas. He spun me back around and gave me a gentle shove, I stumbled onto the stage and froze.

  How in the hell did I get myself into this?

  I’m sure I looked like a deer in the headlights standing awkwardly at the top of the stage, not sure how to proceed as the sultry music started up. I know I was supposed to move—dance. But I couldn’t. I’m not sure how long I stood there, blankly staring out into the crowd—even though the lights shining down on me didn’t let me to see much beyond the tables next to the stage, all filled.

  “Come on, baby!” A voice called out.

  “Show us your moves,” another yelled.

  The voices and whoops spurred me into action. Swallowing down my fear, I took a step forward, then another. I took a moment to let the music encircle me, telling me how to move.

  Don’t think, just do.

  I’d seen strip teases before—on television. Yeah, sure, I could do this. I’d just pretend that it was for some old flame. The thought increased my confidence, and I began to sway my hips, pulling the boa from my shoulders, and I kept it in my hands and twirled so my back was to the crowd, dropping it to my backside and grinding against it.

  I got a few cheers and whistles. The enthusiasm of the crowd urged me on, making me feel more brazen. I spun back around, my hair slapping me in the face. I blew the strands from my eyes and moved down the stage a little further, dropping the boa to the floor as my fingers gently tugged at the strings at the front of my corset holding the top part of the red, satin garment together.

  The song seemed to go by in a blur. I vaguely remember attempting the pole—without much success, but I still managed to save some grace from the stunt. I danced, teased the audience, and it actually seemed surprisingly natural to undo the corset and let it fall to the floor, exposing my breasts to the audience. The roar of clapping and cheers from the crowd kept me going, making my stripping of my frilly skirt a cinch. I tossed the skirt to the side, leaving me in just my g-string as the song ended.

  All around me, men were waving bills—as were some women. This had to be the most awkward part of the entire ordeal. Dropping to my knees and letting people place bill after bill into my panties made me very self-conscious, but I told myself that the worst was over. I’d done it, and despite the uneasiness that I was feeling right now, actually going out there and strutting my stuff made me feel empowered. It made me feel wild, and for the span of one song, I’d forgotten about all my worries and fears. Having no money and being on the verge of losing my family's bar was the last thing on my mind.

  That was, until I heard an all-too-familiar voice as an all-too-familiar hand slapped a ten at my hip. “Well, well, well, Andrea.”

  I looked up and gasped. I’d heard right. Ohmygod, I couldn’t believe it. My gaze locked onto that of my stepbrother, Sam Hughes. And to his left, his twin brother Eric.

  I swear, my world seemed to come crashing down onto me. Holy shit, I was naked, and my stepbrothers were staring at me. Every exposed inch of me!

  Chapter 6

  “Eric! Sam!” I looked from one surprised and disappointed face to the other and back again. At least, it looked like disappointment to me, but then again, I was too flustered to gauge anything at that moment.

  Again, it hit me that I was virtually naked, and my stepbrothers were feasting their eyes on all of me. Every single inch. Quickly, I gathered up the money and discarded costume and rushed off the stage. As I fled through the curtain, my heart thudding in my chest, I let out a sigh of relief. They were still out there, and I feared they’d be there until either the club closed or they saw me again. It would have to be the former, because there was no way I was going out into the crowd to have the confrontation with them here.

  “You did great.” I felt a strong clap on my shoulder.

  My gaze met Vince’s, and I gave him a sheepish grin, my cheeks growing warm. “Thanks.”

  I began walking away from him giving the girl who was about to go on a timid smile as we walked past each other. I had one thought and one thought only—get the fuck out of here.

  But the club manager was on my heels. “So I’d like to see you back here tomorrow night.”

  “I umm…” I began grabbing the bills from my panties. “I don’t know.”

  “What?” He placed himself between me and the dressing room door. “Why not?” He looked down at my fistful of money, grinning. “You did great!” I had to give credit where credit was due, unlike the sleazy strip clubs you hear about, he didn’t oogle, me despite my being more or less naked. His focus seemed to be strictly on the business.

  Looking down at the money, I had to admit, it had been a good haul. My rough estimate would be maybe 400 dollars! Pretty damned good. What did he say he’d get for a cut? 20 percent, something like that. Between the price of admission, drinks, and then the club’s cut of the tips, the strip club was making a killing. If our club was even making half of what they were here, we’d have no money worries. We’d be back in the black and turning a profit in no time.

  “It’s not that.” I finished, pulling the bills from my panties and neatly piled them in my hand.

  “Are you worried about the lap dances?”

  Lap dances? Shit, I hadn’t even considered that.

  “None of the girls are required to do lap dances. It’s just extra cash for the ones who do.”

  Were my stepbrothers getting lap dances right now? In my mind’s eye, I could envision one of the women from the changing room gyrating on Sam or Eric’s lap, getting them hard, making them come. I’ll admit it, it filled me with jealousy. I’d never felt jealousy like that before over any of the women they’d dated. Perhaps a tingle or two, but not full blown jealousy. What had changed?

  Sam. A voice in the back of my head chimed in.

  Giving my head a shake, I forced Sam from my mind. I didn’t need those thoughts right now.

  “How about giving it another shot tomorrow? I won’t even ask for the club’s cut for tomorrow, just so you can get a taste of the money you can make. The crowd really liked you, and I’d like to add you to the normal lineup.”

  Looking down at the money again, I sighed. I had no idea what kind of reaction to expect when I got home and had to face my brothers. I was dreading it. No doubt they’d be upset, disappointed, surprised—I could see it in their eyes when I looked down and locked gazes with them.

  But maybe there was something more to be learned about this business? Should I just shrug that off? It could be a way to save The Foxy. I looked up from my fist full of cash to the manager. “I’ll let you know by tomorrow afternoon, that’s the best I can promise.”

  He fr
owned, certainly not impressed. If he pressed the issue, it would be a flat-out no.

  I waited. He opened his mouth, no doubt to attempt to persuade me into an answer right here and now, but seemed to rethink it and snapped it shut again.

  “Fine.” He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a business card. “On the back is my personal cell number. Call me.” He wagged his finger at me. “By noon, or consider the offer off the table.”

  Nodding, I smiled. “Of course.”

  “And if you want to work here, I need your info for personnel. We run a legit business here.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  Without another word, he spun and left down the corridor he’d brought me from. Just as he turned the corner and went out of sight, the door behind me was flung open and smacked me square on the back, sending me stumbling forward on my heels. Luckily, I was able to steady myself on the opposite wall, though I did end up dropping my hard-earned, sweaty cash.

  “Shit, fuck. Sorry.” A woman I hadn’t seen earlier bent down and helped me gather the bills. A vibrant red curl fell over her eye, and she blew it back. It was no use, the curl just returned to its position over her eyes.

  “It’s okay.” I gave her a smile of reassurance. “I should have known better than to be standing in front of a closed door.”

  She returned my smile, passing the bills she’d gathered for me. “You’re the new girl, right?”

  My cheeks grew warm. “Well, I’m not sure if I’d call myself the new girl just yet. I’m just trying it out.”

  “You’ll be back.” She gave me a wink and raked her hand through her hair, pushing it back. “The money is addictive.” With a wave, she scurried off in the direction of the stage.

  Indeed, the money could become addictive. I had no doubt of that. I had to wonder if the same went for porn stars? Did the money become so addictive that they lost sight of a future beyond adult acting until it was too late? Time had a way of going by so quickly, and in a blink of an eye, I’d be in my thirties, then forties, and so on… It was at that moment I realized one thing—I couldn’t quit school. I needed to go on, just in case. Which meant one important thing: the situation with The Foxy needed to be figured out, one way or another.