Smoldered

by Rachel Blaufeld

  It was a totally different sexed-up look than my Leop days, where I tried to completely disguise myself under layers of makeup, and flat-ironed my hair to fall around my face. Working at the Tunnel, I was proud of what I did, no matter what. I didn’t need to hide, and I was getting noticed.

  In Florida, they needed top-shelf female dancers who knew the ropes, who could put on a smutty act without a second thought, and mostly, who could train others how to work the floor and suck a man dry, financially speaking, for the evening. Miami was hot to trot right now with real high-class places popping up that catered to the older spring break crowds, bachelor parties, foreigners, and business travel.

  I needed a few more months to make sure I had enough saved, and we were off. Making sure I had a cushion, a little to fall back on, was my first priority, which was why Asher and Petey had to lay the hell off me.

  After the money, the other most important decision was where we lived. Picking an apartment in a good neighborhood, even if it was small, was the smart choice. My son would be able to go to a good school, make nice friends, and I could find a reliable, trustworthy sitter. One who could work nights and sleep over until I got home.

  My mom, who had watched my tiny guy for most of his life while I worked, couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t leave her dad, my grampa, who was in a local nursing home. I understood. Sort of. With Quinn’s dad never in the picture and my own dad’s fatal heart attack right before his grandson was born, my mom and I had raised my son together. We’d been close, and I didn’t understand her recent bout of indifference toward me.

  I stared hard at my reflection, concentrating on my face, willing the tears in my eyes to evaporate.

  My mom loved her own daddy, but didn’t she want what was best for her grandson?

  Another reason why I needed to get out of Dodge. It was time I called all the shots, made my own decisions when it came to my life, my kid, and my relationships, without relying on anyone else.

  Sighing, I sifted through my clothes in the small closet of my dressing room. I pulled out a black mini dress completely cut out across the midriff, baring my tanned skin from a tiny tease of boob cleavage toward no-man’s land down below. Way downtown.

  The back ran open the same length from the slope of my neck to the top of my ass crack. Underneath, all I had on was a tiny iridescent thong. As I slipped slinky red patent strappy sandals on six-inch platforms on my feet, Petal bounced in, sweaty from working out.

  Mentally, I rolled my eyes. Another of Asher’s insane projects to protect the girls. The stubborn mule recently built an addition to the club with a full gym inside it, so the girls could work out in peace and safety. He didn’t want any of us being harassed at the local gyms. Nut case.

  My work roommate, Petal, was the opposite of me with her constant upbeat attitude, but I still liked the young girl—most of the time. Following suit with Asher’s knight-in-shining-armor act, Sienna rescued the young girl and took her under her wing. For better or worse, Asher stuck the two of us together when my old dressing room partner, Chey, got married and quit. Lucky her.

  Now the happy-go-lucky stripper from the Midwest was drinking water and stretching her quads against the wall. “Hey, Nat. You look hot! Wow! Love that dress. Good thing Asher is out of town for the night. He would bust a gut about you working the floor in that number.” She bent over to take her off tiny workout shorts and stripped completely naked.

  I realized that with all my arguing with Petey and getting lost in my own thoughts, I’d forgotten that Asher had left for an overnight at Red Rock with Sienna, just seventy-two hours after I slept at his house. Surely, he was trying to figure out what was up with her and her mystery customer, treating her with kid gloves due to her recent brush with a crazy stalker. And knowing Sienna and her maternal nature, she was probably doing her best to fix whatever was going on with Asher and me.

  Well, it’s not fixable.

  I pulled myself out of my Asher-induced haze, waved my hand carelessly through the air, and said, “Please, Petal! Asher has no say whatsoever over what I wear. I actually forgot he was gone, so thanks for reminding me. He’s been a jerk lately, but with him away, the cat can play.”

  Pretending to claw the air with hooked fingers, I let out a little meow before walking toward the door.

  Petal stood there butt naked, showing off all her tight young attributes as her silky black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and yelled, “Behave, Nat! No one wants to deal with Asher being mad over you. You hear me? He was a bear over the weekend. We don’t need this shit!”

  I WAS out the door and walking swiftly toward the club before Petal could say anything else.

  Even though no one could see, I rolled my eyes for the second time that evening, this time over Petey being hot on my fire-engine-red heels. Good thing I could move pretty fast in them. I knew I couldn’t lose him, but I certainly was in no mood to talk any more with him—or anyone else for that matter—about Asher.

  I sashayed my tight ass all the way out the stage entrance, where my shadow of a bouncer parked himself at stage right while I started to flirt and work the club. With dollar signs, palm trees, and a happy Quinn in my mind, I quickly jumped onstage, whipping myself up the pole for my solo number.

  With Sienna out for the night, I didn’t have to share the spotlight. In fact, for music I used one of the personalized mash-ups that had been made just for her. Shaking my ass to the hard rock beat that was sharing the air with rap, I felt my dress riding up my thighs, exposing my tanned skin as I slid down the pole. I headed to the front of the platform and sank into a squat, spreading my knees, giving the front row a tiny peek of my undies and their glowing iridescence shining in the black light.

  I threw my head forward and shook it from side to side, feeling my hair flow through the air and cloak my face, giving me a moment’s privacy and allowing me a second with my emotions, which was an occupational hazard in stripping.

  Quickly tossing my locks back and standing tall, I took a few steps forward and pulled my dress off in one swoop, discarding it to stage right. Finally, Petey has something to do—pick up my dress. Standing before the packed house wearing only my miniscule thong and the shiny white star pasties covering my nipples, I began to gyrate, tease, and taunt from the stage, eyeing up a few prospects for when I was finished.

  With one glance, I engaged a group of whales with bellies as fat as their wallets, like a missile homing in on its target. They were an easy sell.

  Issues with a Side of Massage

  Asher

  IT HAD only been a few days since I’d had Natalie all to myself at my house, and she was already back to being a bitch, icing over and freezing me out. I couldn’t deal with it at the moment, so I put Petey under strict orders to be her full-time shadow.

  I had other problems. Big ones.

  Sienna and I were at a resort in the Red Rock Desert, stretched out in the couples’ massage room awaiting our “therapists.” Christ, I needed more than a massage therapist, I needed my whole head examined, but I didn’t have time for that crap. Thank fuck, the woman next to me was finally quiet. I was soaking up every second of silence. The silly girl had been crawling up my ass about Natalie for the last twenty-four hours.

  As difficult as it was, I tried not to get annoyed with Sienna’s constant harping. After all, she only cared about me, which was why she wouldn’t shut up for one second about me deserving happiness.

  But it was enough already. Enough. Period.

  That whole interrogation was probably instigated by her recent discovery of Natalie with her fine-looking ass sitting naked in my kitchen. Go figure, on the second time in five very long years that I got the stubborn girl to come back with me to my place, Sienna had to walk in unannounced. Now she wouldn’t take her foot off the gas when it came to me “making a life.”

  When I couldn’t take any fucking more, right before our spa appointments I finally gave in to Sie’s nagging and explained a bit of the history bet
ween Nat and me. Then I promised that when I had it resolved, I would fill her in on the whole story.

  Except that day might never come.

  The good part was that our situation was too complicated for even Sienna to sort out, so she let it go. At least for the freaking moment, so I could pretend to enjoy my massage.

  The real problem was I had to get Sienna’s crazy mess straightened out first, and it was weighing on me like a five-ton elephant.

  Which was why I was currently getting a couple’s massage while also sharing a suite at one of the area’s luxury resorts with my top-billed stripper and best friend. Sienna needed a break, a respite from the stress in her life so she could get some perspective.

  As for me, I required a lot more.

  Lulled by the serenity of the massage room, the sound of a rambling brook drifting from the hidden speakers, my mind drifted back to when I took Lila in—now Sienna—when she was on the run, trying to escape an abusive relationship. Hard to believe what a freaking star she’d become since those dark days.

  Sienna had done good, had made a life for herself in Vegas, and seemed happy. For seven years she’d shown zero interest in meeting someone of the opposite sex. Now she suddenly had a lunatic fan charging the stage while she performed, and she’d been breaking all her own rules, visiting with a male customer in the audience on Fridays.

  Sienna and I had a rule about that, one of many we’d agreed to together when her star began to rise and she stopped performing lap dances. First of all, no walking the club floor on weekends, or I couldn’t protect her from the throngs of fans wanting a touch, a taste, or just to snap a fucking picture with Vegas’s Adult Entertainer of the Year, two years running. Sienna Flower was too fucking popular for her own good, so nowadays she enticed the crowd only from the stage. No lap dances, no photos, no private rooms. Nothing.

  My eyes squeezed shut as I lay flat on my back, waiting, thinking about Sienna and her rules. Imagine my surprise when I saw Ms. Hands-Off gracing the table of a big fucking dude last Friday. No wonder I was so pumped to blow off some steam with Natalie, and pushed so hard for her to come back to my place.

  Damn, I had to resolve this little situation with Sienna so I could sort out my own stuff, and do it all quick.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief when I heard the two massage girls come into the room. Sensing the lights dimming through slits between my eyelids, I immediately relaxed.

  Warm hands coated in oil slid up and down my sore hamstrings and forearms. They were everywhere and I had to resist moaning out loud, not sure if it was the heavy pressure on my body or in my head.

  It didn’t matter how hard the tiny woman rubbed me or dug into my tired muscles, my thoughts couldn’t break free from my own issues. And I really couldn’t pinpoint what my issues were, other than they all started and ended with Natalie.

  What the hell was up with that woman? Natalie had been driving me crazy for the last five years. She had my balls in her giant tote bag, and she didn’t even realize it. Lately, she’d been all testy, up in my face about needing to make good money for her boy, and telling me to stay out of her way.

  Well, Nat, no can do, because I own the club where someone tried to shove Ecstasy down your throat. And by the way, I’m fucking you. Did you forget?

  Maybe even making love to you.

  Nah.

  What the hell was her angle these days? I’d known her longer than five years; she was probably the person I’d known the longest at this point in my life. We grew up on the wrong side of the tracks together, which was part of the problem.

  The girl had acted weird from time to time since I’d dragged her out of the Leop, but lately, she had a whole new brand of strange going on in her head.

  Attempting to put this line of thinking away, I tried to salvage what time I had left to relax as the masseuse ran her strong hands along my neck, making her way over to my pecs. I was wound tight, and not even a whole day of massage would help me unwind. My mind raced as I sifted through all the events of the last several years with Natalie, so I could understand what might be going on with her.

  As I rolled onto my stomach for the second half of my massage, my body barely shielded by a thin sheet, my mind shifted back to five years ago, when I got Natalie out of that dump and back in my life…

  ON THAT particular Monday five years ago, the day after I’d first run into Natalie at the Leop, I’d been nursing an enormous hangover. I had stopped by the Tunnel to sign payroll for the week, and to make sure the usually light daytime crowd was behaving. There hadn’t been a ton of paperwork to do at the club because it was mostly a cash business, but I had to make sure everything was legit.

  Then, despite giving myself a stiff talking-to over Natalie and how I didn’t need to save her, I’d jumped on my bike and headed over to the Leop. I had leaned into the curves that day, taking the corners with a bit too much speed, rushing to what, I had no idea.

  Mondays were the day most strip clubs took inventory and planned to restock after what they hoped was an extremely busy weekend. My bar backs and hostesses over at the Tunnel would be making note of everything we were out of and prepping for another stellar week, and I had hoped Ryan was doing the same over at the Leop. He was my best chance for getting the lowdown on Natalie, or Natasha.

  Walking into the dark club, squinting and adjusting from riding outside in the hot sun on my beloved baby, I immediately clocked Ryan at a side bar. I took off toward him, ignoring a chump getting a sultry lap dance from an Asian girl in a purple thong.

  Okay, I looked a little, but I just wanted to see what type of girls they had working during the day shift.

  “What’s up, man?” I called to Ryan from a few feet away, giving him a chin lift.

  “You that hard up, Ash? Coming back the next day for a little more? Not too many girls floating around here,” he replied with a smirk.

  “Nah, I’m good, but I got a few questions for you.” I leaned up against the bar while he pulled a draft beer at the tap.

  “The girl, Natasha, you know her?” I asked, not wasting any time.

  He stopped what he was doing and turned to me, his expression serious. “Yeah. We all do. Love her. She’s a good girl, Asher, not one you should mess with. I know your tastes, so just don’t go there with Nat.”

  I pinned him with a no-bullshit stare. “Cut the tough-guy act, Ryan. I know her. Grew up with her, but haven’t seen her in a few years. I need to talk with her, finish a conversation we started last night.”

  Then he stared daggers back at me and opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a tall, slinky figure sneaking up on him, her hair floating all around her face.

  The girl jumped on Ryan’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck while her legs made their way around his waist, before she’d swung over his shoulder and landed a kiss on his cheek. The little cock tease had been wrapped in her own dark mane of hair and still hadn’t seen me standing to the side of the bar, the one on the other side of Ryan, the side she hadn’t been kissing.

  “Hey, Ry! You have a good night? I stopped in to clean up my dressing room and thought we could grab some lunch. My mom is taking Quinney for fast food, so we could get something decent. Want to?” she said as she settled herself higher on his hip.

  In an effort to be seen, I cleared my throat, and Ryan started to look painfully uncomfortable.

  Is she sleeping with the guy? Can that little runt be the father of her child? Nah.

  At least Natalie looked way better without her nasty stripper face painted on. She looked stunning, all natural and shit.

  When she saw me she jumped down, flipping her hair out of her face as she stared straight at me with a confused look and said, “Asher, what are you doing here?”

  I moved around the front of the bar and positioned myself directly in front of Ryan, blocking his view of Natalie. Then I leaned in and answered in a low voice. “Oh, just catching up with old friends like you. Glad to hear you’re hung
ry. Let’s go, Nat. I’m buying, you’re eating.”

  Ryan didn’t say a damn word. At least the little prick knew better than to take me on. I had a reputation, and Ryan certainly wasn’t going to mess with me physically.

  She hooked her hands on her hips. “Asher, I told you. I have a life here at the Leop. I’m eating with Ryan, but thanks for asking.” Then she leaned around me and raised an eyebrow at Ryan, obviously expecting the dude to back her up.

  Instead he glanced away and said, “You know what, Nat? I got a lot to do here today. Go get something to eat with Asher, and catch up. You and me, we’ll see each other later. Yeah?” He motioned to the door before turning back to his bar duties.

  Natalie didn’t look happy at his response. In fact, she looked to be on the verge of crying, but she put on a tough face when she said, “Okay. See you later, Ry.”

  I tilted my head to the exit while holding my hand out for Natalie to take, and wasn’t surprised when she rushed by me saying, “I’ll go eat with you, Asher, but don’t read anything into it. I’m starving and I have a few free hours, so let’s roll. It’s lunch—nothing more, nothing less. Not today or any other day.” She strutted all the way to the door, pushed it open, and walked out into the sunshine, shoving her sunglasses on her face.

  I stopped short when I made it through the doorway. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself. Looking up at Natalie, I tried to explain, “I have my bike.”

  “So? I’ve been on a motorcycle before, Asher. Let’s go.” She marched right over to my shiny black baby and threw her leg over.

  I handed her my helmet and hopped on in front of her, feeling her wrap her arms around my middle. It felt way better than seeing her limbs wrapped around Ryan.

  Before I gunned the engine, I asked, “Where to?”

  “Feralina’s on the Strip.”

  I guessed she decided to go big because I was buying, and she was obviously put out and all that, but I didn’t care. She wanted fancy Italian, she’d have it, and by the end of lunch—if I had my way—she wouldn’t be working at the Leop anymore.