by Terry Towers
And that brought me back to my current situation. Stripping. Hmm. Everyone seemed friendly. That was nice. Another stereotype I’d had about strip clubs was that it was a dog-eat-dog world, and maybe I was wrong on that as well. But then again, I was new and not a threat...yet. Their attitudes could certainly change. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t a stripper. I didn’t want to be a stripper. It was a stupid, crazy thing I’d done. Never to be repeated.
Entering the dressing room, I went straight to the locker I’d crammed my stuff into and opened it. Quickly, I got undressed and put on my regular clothes. Once dressed, I gathered the costume I’d worn and realized I had no idea what to do with it.
“There’s a bin at the back of the room. Throw it in to be cleaned,” a slender black woman with legs that seemed to go on forever said as she walked past me. Her costume of choice seemed to be that of an Amazonian warrior-woman.
“Thanks.” Heading to where she’d directed me, I found the halfway-full bin and tossed the costume inside.
Well, I guess that’s it, I mused, staring into the bin.
But that wasn’t it, not by a long shot. My brothers were out there, at least I presumed they still were and no doubt anxious to speak to me. Crap. There had to be a back way out, right? I scanned the dressing room and came up empty. Exiting the dressing room and stepping out into the hallway, I scanned left and right—one way led to the club and the other to the stage.
Hustling my way back towards the stage, I silently prayed for an exit.
BINGO!
Sure enough, just before I got to the stage, there was a lighted exit. Not hesitating, I burst through it and into the cool night air. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in and slowly released it, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. Yes, I would have to face Sam and Eric when I got home, but at least I’d have a half of an hour to gather my thoughts so I could explain to them why I’d been nearly naked, shaking my ass for strangers and dollar bills.
~*~ TT ~*~
Eric
“I really don’t need to go to the strip joint to loosen up, Sam,” I protested as we entered the club. In truth, it was a half-assed protest at best. While Andrea may not have thought that I cared for the bar and whether it went under or not, that wasn’t the case. It stressed me out as well.
“What? You’d rather stay home and study? Gotta loosen up a bit, bro.” Sam smacked me on the back and smiled as we walked through the club and found a couple of unoccupied seats right up front.
Once seated, I took some time to survey the club. It was busier on a Tuesday here than it was on a Saturday night at our bar. But then again, the strip scene was a completely different entity.
“Damn, I wish we had this type of business.” I looked over at Sam. His eyes were everywhere, though mostly on the women. I grinned. Typical Sam. He pulled his eyes from the woman on stage and met my gaze. “We’d make a killing! This place is rocking.”
I cocked a brow up at my brother. “Yeah, what a great way to honor Andrea’s family, turn it into a titty bar.”
“You make it sound so dirty. Shit.”
I leaned into him. “It’s a strip club.”
“Judgemental! Damn. Nothing wrong with that. It’s legal.”
“Just barely, in this area, anyhow. This isn’t exactly a liberal part of the country. You saw the damned protesters outside.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes at me. “If you were a superhero, you’d be named Captain Buzzkill. ‘Cause bro, you can suck the fun out of just about everything. Even a place like this. Tell me again why I brought you.”
“You have no friends?” I fired back with a grin, knowing that was far from the case. Sam was always a popular dude all through high school and into college. I sometimes felt like I rode his coattails a bit. Sam was the fun brother, I was the realist. Realists are never as fun as blind optimism, which is what Sam had in spades, Andrea too, to a lesser extent.
“Yeah.” The song changed up, and the MC announced that there was a new girl coming up named Felicity. Hmm, a new girl. I focused my attention on the stage.
A moment later the song Lady Marmalade began to blast from the speakers, and we waited. No girl. Huh? I looked over at Sam and we exchanged what-the-fuck looks. Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer and we both immediately returned our attention to the stage. A blonde woman had appeared from behind the curtain in a scarlet red burlesque outfit. The front of the skirt was short, falling halfway up her thighs, while the back was long, trailing behind her on the floor. She had a figure that could stop traffic, but I’m a boob man, and so that’s where my eyes fixated—her wicked cleavage.
My dick jerked in my pants. Damn, I needed to get laid soon. Maybe Sam had been right, I’d been out of the game a little too long if a pair of breasts—albeit amazing one—started to get me riled up.
“She looks familiar,” Sam remarked. I tore my eyes away from the woman to see Sam squinting as he leaned forward in his chair. “Do we know her?”
Looking back to the stage, the woman stepped into one of the spotlights, and the beam of light displayed her stunning facial features with precise clarity.
“Holy fuck!” My mouth dropped open, and all I could do was stare at our stepsister as she began to remove her top. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my balled fists. Surely I was seeing things.
“That’s not…Shit!”
Removing my hands from my eyes, I blinked, and my breath caught in my throat. It was her. Or her fucking switched-at-birth twin. I couldn’t pull my eyes away, even though I knew I should. It was like watching an auto wreck—I didn’t want to look, but for some reason, some perverted reason, my body wouldn’t move. My eyes refused to focus on anything other than her jiggling tits.
She grabbed onto the pole and swung around it. It was a little rough, but she managed. She got a little more ambitious and tried to jump onto and straddle the pole, and she promptly nearly fell on her ass, just happening to catch herself before she made contact. Next came the skirt. She undid it and let it fall from her fingertips and onto the stage.
“I need a closer look.” Standing, Sam pulled out his wallet and grabbed a bill. Putting his wallet back into his back pocket, he walked over to the stage and held the money out, waiting for her to come over to him. He yelled out “Andrea!”
She turned, froze, statue-still, and all colour drained from her face.
Holy fuck on a cracker, Batman! It was. It really was Andrea standing on stage, dozens of people staring at her as she stripped. My goddammed sister! After a moment, she seemed to break free from her initial shock, grabbed the cash and her costume from the stage and bolted, her heels wobbling slightly as she ran.
After she disappeared between the red curtains, I redirected my attention to my brother, who was taking his seat next to me. “That was her.”
“Yeah, no shit. What in the fuck is she doing stripping?”
I shrugged. I really had no idea. “Well...the money situation isn’t that bad.”
He cocked an eyebrow up at me.
“Yeah, alright. It’s bad.” A seductive new song began to play as a new girl took the stage. “But regardless, it’s never so bad that she has to do that for living.” I motioned to the woman on stage.
How in the hell was I ever going to be able to look at her the same way again? Sure, I’d seen her in a bikini and with a tiny towel wrapped around her, but this was different. In those instances, it was just an everyday occurrence. This, on the other hand, was sexy and seductive. I was sporting a half-mast erection and feeling pretty damned uncomfortable.
I looked around me at the sea of faces. I bet my stepsister got them hard as well. It was a fight to keep myself from getting enraged at the idea. Andrea wasn’t a piece of meat. She wasn’t something to be oogled at and used for some pervert's wet dream. The irony that I was also one of those ‘perverts’ wasn’t lost on me, though.
“I’m going to go see if I can talk to her, you coming?” Sam asked, standing.
�
�Nah,” I ran a shaky hand through my short hair. “I’m not sure what I would even say to her right now.”
Our gazes locked a moment, and he nodded. “All right, I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah.” As Sam began walking towards the bar, I attempted to focus on the woman on stage. It was no use. The worst of it was that I felt like I'd failed her. I was supposed to be the responsible one. I was the one who was supposed to take care of them both. I’d made myself a mental promise when our parents died, and I’d failed. The family business was going under, and Andrea was getting naked for cash.
I didn't think I’d ever felt so defeated.
Chapter 7
Andrea
My hands were shaking as I fumbled to put my key in the ignition. After the third try, I forced myself to relax, flopping back into the car seat and closing my eyes a moment, taking three deep, slow breaths. Opening my eyes, I looked down the street, towards the club. The brothers weren’t following me. No doubt they were attempting to process what they’d seen.
How in the hell was I going to face them? I asked myself for what felt like the hundredth time. Attempting the ignition once more, I breathed a sigh of relief as I was able to steady my hand long enough to start the car.
The drive home was filled with so many thoughts that by the time I pulled into the driveway and entered the house, my head was throbbing. It was easily one of the worst headaches I’d ever had in my life, and I’d been having plenty since our parents' death.
Making my way upstairs, I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Quickly, I changed into a pair of flannel Snoopy pajamas and entered my private half-bath in order to remove my makeup. I mindlessly went through the motions and stood staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked so different now than I had at the club, as though for those brief few minutes, I’d been a completely different person. And I can’t say I had entirely hated that other person, not at all. Up until I’d seen my stepbrothers, I’d actually kind of enjoyed stripping.
Maybe trying it one more time wouldn’t hurt, I asked myself. Confused blue eyes stared back at me, offering no solution to my dilemma.
The sound of the front door opening sent a surge of fear through me. It was the same feeling I got as a kid when I knew I was in trouble and was waiting for my father to give me the big lecture.
I was tempted to lock my bedroom door, bury my head under my blankets, and pretend I was asleep. But I didn’t. I needed to face the brothers and sort it out, including the possibility of turning The Foxy into a club like that one I’d danced at. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be better than nothing. At least it would have a fighting chance, instead of being the sinking ship that it was at the moment.
Or maybe I was crazy, hoping to salvage something that couldn't be salvaged.
“Andrea!” one of the brothers called out. By the sternness of his tone, I assumed it was Eric. Eric tended to approach things head-on with ferocity.
“Hey, Andrea!” An identical voice called out. It was Sam. There was sympathy in the second voice, which confirmed that I was right.
Time to face the music, I groaned inwardly, walking to my bedroom door, turning the handle and pulling it open. As I walked through the doorway, I turned towards the staircase to see Eric reach the landing. He stopped and stood dead still a moment, staring up at me.
As much as I wanted to look away, I didn’t. Standing a little taller, my chin jutted out and up, I met his stare. “Eric.”
“We need to have a talk about what we saw tonight.”
“Alright.”
Sam reached the landing and nudged Eric aside, standing next to his brother. “How long have you been stripping, Andrea?”
“I’m not going to have this conversation in the hallway.” I moved past the brothers and began making my way down the stairs. “You guys want coffee?” I didn’t bother to wait for a response, but kept going down the stairs and into the kitchen. I could hear the brothers following behind me.
I kept my back to them as I prepared the Keurig, grabbing each of their favourites from the silver spinning holder. None of us spoke until the coffee was made and sitting on the coffee table.
Letting out a loud huff of air, I decided the best way to tackle this was to just get it out and over with. “Look, this was my first time stripping.”
“So this is your job now?” Eric asked, not bothering with his coffee, but getting right to it, the distaste for that I’d done clearly evident in his tone.
“No,” I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “I mean, I’m not sure.” God, I felt like a kid being scolded. A part of me knew it was my life, and I could do with it as I pleased, but on the other hand, I hated that I’d disappointed him and prayed it didn’t affect the way he saw me.
“Not sure?!” Eric stood and slammed his fist down onto the table, his expression incredulous. “I’m telling you right now, it’s your last time!”
My eyes narrowed at him. As much as I was embarrassed over what I’d done, rage flared up within me. Regardless of what he felt about my decisions, how dare he! Standing, I stared him down. “You will not tell me what I can and can’t do, Eric!”
“You’re damned right I will, because no one else in this house seems to have any common sense.”
“Whoa,” Sam stood as well and placed a hand on each of our shoulders, guiding us back down into our seats. “Let’s just talk this out and not let emotions make us say things we’ll regret.”
Eric’s jaw clenched as he continued to stare at me. I could tell he was trying to get his feelings in check.
Sam directed his attention to me, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.
Looking over at him, I flashed him a smile of appreciation.
“So what happened? Why were you stripping, Andrea?” Sam asked. There wasn’t any judgement in his tone, just concern and curiosity.
“Well,” I shrugged, “I happened across the club on my way home and decided to stop in. It’s pretty new in town, and I was curious to see if it was actually getting business or not.
“So you just decided to get naked while there?” Eric cut in.
Sam glared at his brother. “Eric, that’s enough. Let her talk.”
Ignoring Eric, I continued. “The club owner was waiting for his new girl to arrive and do a live audition. He saw me alone, and I assume I looked like the girl, so he came up to me and gave me some money to get on stage.”
“What did he say when you told him you weren’t a dancer?”
“Well.” I pulled my eyes from his and stared into the cup. Picking up the coffee, I took a tentative sip. Normally, I loved mocha, but tonight, I couldn’t even taste it. “It happened so fast. I was so surprised and then next thing I knew, I was picking out an outfit and being rushed to the stage.”
“Really?” Eric sat back in the high back wooden chair and shook his head at me. “At no point did you think to say ‘Hey buddy, I’m not a stripper?’”
“Of course it did.”
Eric put his hands out to the sides, palms up as if to say, “Well, there you go.”
“But I saw the money, and I’ve been feeling so knotted up inside lately.” I sighed. “I don’t know, I guess I was kinda hoping that doing something crazy might get my mind off of everything.”
Sam put his hand on mine, and a rush of need raced through me as I looked over at him. But this time, it wasn’t a sexual need, but a need for comfort and understanding. “I get it. I do.”
“You’re both fucking nuts,” Eric muttered.
We both ignored him.
“But you’re not going to strip again, right?” Sam’s eyes seemed to plead with mine.
“I’m pretty good at it.”
“But that’s not you, Andrea.”
“Who says? Who are you?” I looked at Eric’s disapproving face and then back to Sam. “Who are you to say what I am or am not?”
“The bar is your heart and soul, Andrea.”
“And we’re going
to lose it.” Tears filled my eyes. Dammit, why was I always crying or on the verge of tears lately? I just wished I could be stronger. That I could turn off my emotions. But to my dismay, I couldn’t.
Sam’s expression saddened. “Don’t say that. It’s not like you to give up. Your optimism and the fight within you is the most beautiful part of who you are, Andrea.”
Sam was so sweet. As I looked deep into his eyes, the uncomfortableness of the past day seemed to fade. This was Sam, the guy I ran to when I needed to be cheered up. Or when I screwed up and needed a wingman to help lighten the blow of my poor decisions.
“I was being impulsive.”
He nodded. “You’re not going back, are you?”
I hesitated.
“No, she’s not.” Eric cut in.
“Eric. Stop. It’s her life.” He gave my hand a squeeze along with a reassuring nod.
Thank you, I mouthed to Sam.
“Truth is, I don’t know.”
Sam’s smile faltered for a moment. “Why not?”
“The money was good. And I think it would be good research.”
“For what?” I couldn’t avoid Eric's semi-hostile glare any longer. Keeping my hand in Sam’s for strength, I focused all my attention on Eric. “Don’t tell me you’re still on that ridiculous porn idea, are you?” I really don’t think I’d seen him as agitated as he was at this moment.
“Because it could be a direction The Foxy could take,” I defended.
“No,” Eric laughed. “Just no. There’s no way in hell that is going to happen.”
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table and settling my glare on Eric. “If it’s so distasteful, then why were you there?”
His jaw clenched as he challenged me with his eyes. But he had no answer. After what seemed like an eternity but was closer to perhaps a half minute, he growled and stood so quickly and violently that it sent the chair toppling behind him. “I’m done with this idiotic conversation.” Spinning on his heel, he stormed out of the kitchen. A moment later the front, door opened and slammed shut behind him.