by K. Webster
“Are you Sandy?” I grin. She looks like the caricature version of Sandy from Grease. “Lola, you look pretty hot.”
Her lips flatten out, baring her teeth and I think she’s smiling, although it’s hard to tell with those red balloons.
“Tell me about it, stud,” she giggles.
I’m chuckling with her as I stand and step into my high-heeled shoes. I tower over my balloon Barbie doll boss.
“You look like hell on Earth. Go kick some ass out there,” she tells me proudly. When her eyes mist over, my heart tightens.
She’s told me before that I’m like the daughter she never had. You’d think, with five husbands, she’d have conceived somewhere along the way. But her real baby has always been her love for plastic surgery. That baby she fed lovingly and gave a lot of attention to.
My thoughts drift to when we first met.
“We’re looking for sultry performers. Not runway models. I get it. You’re a pretty girl. However, you can’t dance any better than my other pretty girls. But what my other girls have is tits. You are definitely lacking in that department. What are you, a B cup? A C cup?” the blond woman asks. She’s smacking her gum and keeps flicking her eyes up to the clock on the wall.
I need this job. There is no way in hell I am calling to ask Dad to help me out of this credit card hellhole I’ve dug myself into. No fucking way.
Instead of rewarding her with an answer, I turn my back to her. My voice suddenly fills the entire room as I begin singing “Beautiful” by Christina Aguilera. I give that song every bit of my heart. The lyrics saturate every wall, piece of furniture, and soul in the building. Nobody interrupts. Nobody tells me to stop. And when I finish, nobody claps.
Choking back a defeated sob, I rapidly blink away my tears and straighten my back. I gave it my all—that’s all I can ever do.
“Why are you here?” the woman finally asks.
I blink away my tears and lift my chin as I turn to look at her. “Because my first job just doesn’t cut it. And if I have to work a second one, I’d like for it to be doing something I love—singing.”
She eyes me with an arched, blond brow. “You do realize this is a gentlemen’s club?”
I nod. I’m not embarrassed. She might not like my body, but I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin.
“What’s your name?”
“Nora Storm.”
I watch her chew on her bottom lip for a moment. “Why aren’t you doing any real Vegas shows, Miss Storm?”
My eyes are rolling before I can stop them. “Because I’m not good enough.”
She waves me silent. “Nonsense. You’ve got talent, darlin’. I’m lucky to have snagged you up first. Welcome home, Lady Hurricane. I’m Lola.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, babe,” Lola quips, jerking me from my memory. “You’ve been purchased for a private VIP session after your set.”
My nose scrunches up in disgust. When I started working for her, I told her to keep me off the VIP session list. I wasn’t into the lap dances—just the performances. We struck a deal that stated she’d only make me do them if I was specifically asked for and if the price was right. The entire eight months I’ve been here, I’ve only had to do three. And all three times, those men paid over five thousand dollars for a half hour of my time. As much as I hate doing them, my cut is thirty percent plus whatever they tip. I could really use fifteen hundred bucks right now to throw at my credit card.
My thoughts drift to Donnie. He was so freaking protective over me. If he knew some man was about to have me dancing all over his lap, I’m sure he’d flip the fuck out. I’m about to tell Lola I won’t do it when she guilt-trips me just like always.
“Before you say no, remember that the club has been slow lately. This will really help me out, babe.”
My heart is sick, but I feel a sense of loyalty to this woman. She picked me up at a time when I needed help the most. Surely I can get through half an hour unscathed. The men aren’t allowed to touch me, so that’s a plus. All I have to do is shake my ass and thrust my tits in his face for thirty short minutes. No big deal.
“Of course I’ll help, Lola,” I finally sigh in defeat.
“Great job, darlin’!” Lola gushes as I come off stage.
I think the part about the club being slow lately was a lie. The place was more packed than I’d ever seen it before. I can’t help but wonder if that was because of all the media attention I’ve garnered as of late.
I’m making long strides toward the VIP room with Lola scrambling behind me to catch up. I just want to get this shit over with so I can go home. As I reach the door, Lola grabs my wrist to stop me.
“Nora, wait. I have to tell you something.” She looks guilty as hell and my guard instantly goes up.
“What?”
“I double-booked you,” she starts. When my eyes widen, she quickly continues. “Well, they’re at the same time. Brothers. It’s no big deal. Same time frame. And they agreed to pay double the fee. Your cut on this is three thousand, babe.”
I can’t help the glare that forms on my face. My heart squeezes because I feel slightly betrayed.
“Lola, this is asking a lot. Even you know that. Make my cut half and I’ll freaking do it,” I snip out, cocking my eyebrow at her. I dare her to balk at my requirement of half. She can do it her damn self if that’s a problem.
Her eyes narrow as she considers her cut but wisely nods. “Of course, babe. Oh, and one other thing. They said they’d pay extra for privacy.”
I’m already shaking my head because I’m used to one of the powerhouse monster twins standing inside the door protecting me if anyone tries to get handsy. Without them, who the hell knows what could happen.
“Absolutely not,” I snap. I’m furious that she’d even suggest it.
“There’ll be cameras on like always, babe. I’ll give you seventy-five percent of their fee. I’ll take the other twenty-five percent plus the additional privacy fee. I know you can really use this money, right?” she asks hopefully. “Both of my boys will be just outside the door. All they’ll need is my word and they’ll be in there in a flash. I’ll be watching those cameras like a hawk.”
I feel sick to my stomach. But seventy-five hundred bucks plus tip will really catch me up. I could even quit this job with those earnings. Lifting my chin, I decide that this is the only option that will do.
“Okay,” I finally agree.
I expect her to smile, but she just looks down at the floor.
“They want you to wear this.”
My eyes gawk at the red material in her hands as if it’s a snake.
When she sees my horrified expression, she quickly sets to calming me down. “Don’t worry, Nor. They didn’t bring this outfit. I let them browse through the costumes. I’m quite aware this isn’t customary, but they are big clients. It’s just an outfit.”
Knowing that it came from our costume wardrobe, I breathe a small sigh of relief. I’m used to wearing my Lady Hurricane costume. Not whatever flimsy, red bullshit this is.
“You owe me, Lola. Watch me. If I so much as look at that camera, I want out. Do you understand?” I instruct firmly.
She nods emphatically as she hands me the outfit. “Hurry and go change in the VIP room. I’ll send them in when you’re done.”
Exhaling heavily, I take the red shit and stomp into the VIP room.
Our VIP rooms are only ten-by-ten rooms. Lola had them decorated to match the rest of the club. They may be small, but they are very ornate, with cherry wood furniture and plush, burgundy cushions on the sofa. There’s always a small table with a bucket of wine or beer per the client’s request as well.
Once I get inside, I hurry as I change out of my black corset into the motherfucking red bra and matching thong. I’m going to kill her. I’ve barely managed to stuff myself into the too-small bra and slide on the barely there thong when the door cracks open. With the toe of my heeled shoe, I kick my other costume under the couch and morph i
nto character.
“Welcome to the VIP room,” I purr and gesture for them to come in.
Instantly, their demeanor makes me nervous. Both of the men have dark, slicked-back hair, reminding me of mobsters or some shit. They are both wearing immaculate, neat suits and are clean-shaven. Some women might even think they are handsome. But not this woman.
No.
As they enter, they bring in with them a sense of danger. Power ripples from them in waves and engulfs me on the other side of the small room. I watch them close the door behind them and sit down, never taking their almost black eyes from mine.
The one that came in first seems to be the friendlier of the two because he flashes a smile at me. “You’re looking lovely tonight, Lady Hurricane.”
I swallow down the fear in my throat and bat my eyelashes at him. “Why thank you, Mr. Sexy.”
He chuckles, and I try not to recoil as I watch him slowly devour every inch of my appearance with his wicked eyes. “I’m Mavi. This is Mort.”
I bite on my lip because nervous laughter is threatening to escape. The scary one closest to the door is named Mort. No fucking way.
“Hello, boys.” I go with a playful smile.
“Well, time is ticking, love. Get right to it.”
Seductive music softly begins playing, and I try to slow my rapid breathing. Knowing that Lola is watching my every move and that two men—much bigger than these two guys—are standing just outside the door helps too.
Since Mavi seems to be the leader, I sashay my way over to him first, purposefully moving my hips to the beat of the music. One side of his mouth curls up into an appreciative smile as I climb onto the sofa and straddle him.
“You’re quite a sight, Lady Hurricane,” he growls as I run my palms along the chest of his expensive dress shirt underneath his jacket.
I force myself to get into character even though I’m horrified at the growing erection I can feel pressing through the thin material of my thong through his pants. Lola is so going to die for letting them choose this outfit.
“Do you feel that cock touching your pussy?” he inquires as he slightly thrusts it against me.
I ignore the urge to scramble off him and run out the door because I can do this for twenty-four more minutes. Thank fuck for a clock in the room. Now, I just need to will it to go a bit faster.
“Oh yes.” I feign a turned on moan. “It feels so good, baby.”
When he growls again, a shiver courses through me. His growls make me feel like I’m his fucking prey. My eyes flit over to Mort and I almost choke when I see him stroking himself through his pants. Quickly, I jerk my line of vision back over to Mavi.
“Put those pretty tits in my face,” he demands.
I suppress a whine. I fucking hate this part. Thankfully, I don’t have to get naked or anything for these sessions. But I do have to rub my tits all over their faces. They know they aren’t allowed to touch or taste.
I lift off his cock and sigh softly, happy for a reprieve. As my fingers slide into his greasy-from-product hair, I try not to cringe.
“Do they feel good?” I’m pushing his nose between my cleavage.
I never had a problem in any of those other three sessions. Never. Not once did they ever break the rules. But tonight, I can sense we’re about to have a real fucking problem.
“I bet they taste delicious.”
I’m about to pull away from him when his mouth tilts to one side and sucks my tit hard. When I go to yank on his hair, his large hands grip my ass and push me back down onto his lap.
“Ride my cock,” he orders. His eyes are no longer playful—they’re malevolent.
I slap him across the face and pointedly look into the camera. “Get me out of here,” I shriek.
I’m shocked when his brother, stupid Mort, bounds from the couch quick as lightning and blocks the door. What in the hell? I try to scramble off Mavi’s lap, but his fingers dig into my hips.
“I said, fucking ride my cock,” he barks.
Tears prickle my eyes at the sting of his thumbs jabbing into me. “Help!” I scream.
Both brothers laugh as he continues to press me against him. Where in the fuck are my boys, and why don’t they have me out of this situation? My hands go right for Mavi’s throat and I claw my fingernails into him.
“Fucking bitch!” he snarls and spins us so that he has me pinned beneath him on the couch. “I’m not going to fucking rape you. I paid for this fantasy. Your boss took my twenty grand and said I could dry-fuck you in here. As long as your clothes and my clothes stayed on, we were good. Now, I’m going to come pressed against your pretty little cunt.”
Angry tears now rush down my cheeks. Fucking Lola allowed this. Twenty fucking grand?
“Mario! Bruno!” I scream.
I can hear people arguing outside the door, but still, nobody has come to my aid.
“I bet your pussy is so wet, Lady Hurricane. If I weren’t worried about going to jail, I’d rip those panties right off just to see.”
He’s so strong—it’s like trying to push a brick house off me. “You will go to jail. That video footage will incriminate you!”
He and his brother laugh hysterically. “What the fuck do you think I paid twenty thousand dollars for? Just to dry-fuck you? Your boss is a greedy bitch and gladly signed off on no video. Now shut the fuck up—I’m running out of time.”
He doesn’t even bother trying to muffle my screams. When I claw at him again, he easily yanks both of my hands away from him and smashes them into one of his. I sob as he pushes his cock through his pants between my legs. Over and over, he thrusts until he finally comes in his pants. I blink in shock when he pulls away and stands up. My heart is pounding a thousand miles per second, but I feel it start to slow as I realize that this horrible time is over.
And Lola will fucking die.
I scramble into a sitting position and attempt to cover myself.
He eyes me once more. “Oh, I almost forgot. Those belong to me now—part of the deal. Mort, will you do the honors?”
Comprehension fills me that he wants to take my clothes just as Mort pounces on me. I scream and thrash wildly as the massive man forcefully rips the red fabric from my body, leaving me completely naked on the sofa.
“Get away from me!” I scream through my tears.
“Time’s up, gentleman,” Lola’s voice informs them calmly on the speaker. “Nor, get dressed.”
I start cussing like a sailor at her but she never responds. The two men slip out of the room and leave me a shaking mess on the sofa. When I snap out of my shocked state, I fall to the floor and find my costume. After many tries with trembling fingers, I manage to cover myself with the outfit. As soon as I’m dressed, Lola steps inside.
“You’re an overnight sensation, Nora. I had to profit from that somehow.” Her eyes are blank. Indifferent.
“Fuck you, bitch. The cops will bring you down hard,” I threaten. Even without my heels on, I stand much taller than she does.
She cackles like a witch. “Nice try, love. And what evidence will they have? Were you raped? Was their video footage of this alleged crime? Who do you think they’ll believe?”
I blink at her several times in horror. She’s right. They’ll never believe me. I’m the new fame-seeking media sensation. It’ll seem as if I’m trying to extend my fifteen minutes of fame. Fuck that. Fuck them. And fuck her.
“I’ll burn this motherfucking club to the ground,” I promise.
She fucking rolls her eyes at me. “Oh, Nor. You don’t have it in you. Goodbye, darlin’. Today’s your last day.”
Red.
All I see is fucking red.
And her red fucking balloon lips are on my radar.
With every ounce of hate I have for this woman at the moment, I haul off and punch her hard right in the mouth.
She screams in agony and blood instantly begins gushing from those swollen lips.
“Sorry to burst your balloons, bitch, but
I just did you a favor. You look like a fucking cartoon. Now go to hell.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” June asks, biting her lip. She’s standing in the doorway of my room, eyeing me nervously, while Bobby buckles Sutton in the car.
“June Bug, I’d be better if you’d help me wash my back in the shower. You want to help with that?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re always tryin’ that crap when Bobby’s out of earshot. He’d beat your ass if he heard that.” Her laughter is music to my ears, and I’m sad they’re leaving.
When I was released from the hospital this morning, Bobby and June came to take me home. We danced around the subject of our “permanent hiatus” of the band and tried to talk lighter subjects. I know they both wanted to demand answers as to why I would try and overdose. Thankfully, though, I think my sister advised them not to press me about it.
My sister.
Speaking of, she’s already decided to make it her life’s mission to take me on as her forever patient. I’ve been informed that she’ll be checking in on me at every break and she will come visit me after her shift. It’s a shame that it took something so drastic to get my sister back into my life.
“I’ll be fine, June,” I promise seriously. This girl is every bit my sister as Daphney is. I love her hardcore.
She hugs me tight before pulling away. “I want you to be better than fine, Donnie. Promise me.”
I kiss her forehead. “I promise.”
“Good. I’ll call you later to see if you want supper. Rest, Donnie.”
After I hear the front door shut, I take a much-needed shower. As soon as I towel off, I hear banging on my door. I ignore the wave of dizziness—I’m still not quite myself—as I yank on a pair of jeans over my naked body. Not bothering with a shirt, I hustle down the stairs to see who is making the goddamned racket. It sounds like a fucking bull is beating its body against my front door.
Once I’ve unengaged the lock, I jerk open the door to see a mess of woman on my doorstep. Both of us stare at one another, frozen.