by Emily Minton
To me, it’s just a titty bar. We take off our clothes, and the guys throw money at us. Some of the girls do even more, if the price is right. Jason knows about this and is fine with it, as long as he gets his cut. It’s no different than a dive off of Route 66. Same old shit, just wrapped up with a classier bow.
“What do you want? I’m about to go on in a minute.” I cross my arms, half in annoyance at him being in our dressing area and half because I know the asshole has a thing for me. A thing that will never go further than his dreams.
He pulls out what he was hiding behind his back, a snaky smile appearing on his face. It’s a black sequined bikini that wouldn’t cover more than my nipples and will barely fit over my ass. “You should try this. They love you in black, you know. It shows off that sexy ass of yours.”
I stare at the so-called outfit and shake my head. “I don’t have time to change.”
“Sure you do,” he says with a sleazy smile.
“I’m already dressed.” I turn my back to him, hoping he’ll leave and not press the issue.
I hear footsteps coming up behind me, though, so no such luck. Jason leans over me, fencing me in, his hands bracing the counter in front of me. He is about half a foot taller than me, his dark hairline starting to recede. “Why don’t you reign in the bitch a little bit? You know what they say—you can catch more flies with honey.”
I stand up, forcing him back, and walk toward the door. “I said no.” A strong hand grabs my upper arm, spinning me around and forcing me against the wall near the door. My eyes meet his, and I sneer, “Get off of me.”
“If you don’t start showing me some respect, I’m gonna have to find a way to tame that attitude.” His hand moves up my arm to encircle my neck. “The only thing you care about is your brother. Maybe, if I have a little talk with him, you will learn respect.”
A chill works up my spine, but I force myself not to cave. “You leave my brother out of this.”
“You’re either gonna do what you’re told, or your brother is gonna pay for your smart ass mouth.” He loosens his hand slightly, while his other skims up my body and runs over the top of my breast. “It’d be a shame if your brother had to pay for your attitude.”
My vision goes hazy for a second as I think of Trey bleeding out on the ground. Ever since I found out he was fighting on the underground circuit, his broken body has been a recurring image in my dreams. “Don’t even th...”
He cuts my words off, slamming his mouth down on mine. I nearly gag when his tongue pushes past my lips. His tongue assaults mine, just long enough to leave the taste of high-dollar bourbon in my mouth. Pulling back from me roughly, he gives a smile that lets me know he’s happy to have something to use against me. “I won’t hurt a hair on his head, if you reign in the attitude and put on the bikini.”
I shake my head, trying to force the thought of Trey getting hurt away. His hand releases my throat, and I take a few deep breaths, watching as Jason backs away from me and moves out the door before slamming it. I let a tear fall, only one. He doesn’t deserve more than that.
My eyes trail over to the black fabric lying on the floor, and my mind starts to imagine what my life would be like without Trey in it. I’ve already lost enough. I can’t lose him, too. Just thinking about it has my mind thinking back to the past.
I held Trey’s hand as tears streamed down my face. The preacher’s words seemed like mumbles, nothing quite making it past the sound of my own heart beating. The thump, thump was so loud, each beat reminding me that my parents were gone. Their hearts were no longer beating. There would be no more Sunday morning breakfasts, family game nights, movie time, nothing.
They were gone, truly gone. What were we going to do now? Where would we live? How was I going to support us? Would Grandma try to take Trey from me? No, I’d never let that happen. We were family, and no one would ever separate us.
They couldn’t be gone. Not my parents. They were the center of my universe, the people who meant more to me than anything. How could I go on without them? How could Trey live without them? He was only thirteen years old. He needed his parents. Even at eighteen, I needed them, too.
All I felt was guilt. It was my fault; they were dead because of me. It should have been me. What kind of kid killed their own parents? I deserved to live a miserable life, to have no happiness, but I was determined to make Trey’s life good. He would not suffer because of my carelessness. I couldn’t help but think he hated me. I hated myself.
Trey squeezed my hand and looked over to me, fear and sadness etched across his normally happy face. I squeezed Trey’s hand back and did my best to smile. He didn’t need to know how scared I felt, didn’t need to know fear was clawing at my insides. I promised him we would stay together, that everything would be okay, and I would find a way to keep my word.
As the casket lowered into the ground, I looked down at my plain black dress. It was the same dress I had worn for my grandfather’s funeral, a dress that was never meant to be worn again. Way too tight and faded from hanging in my closet for so long, it was drab and sad, a pathetic piece of clothing. It encompassed everything I was feeling right then.
Sorrow. Despair. Loneliness. Pain.
The door opens, and the stage manager pops his head in, snapping me out of my memory. “Three minutes.”
“I’m on my way,” I mutter, pushing myself off the wall. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to push it back. There’s no use dwelling on what can’t be changed, and nothing is going to change the fact that my parents are six feet under. It’s time to get control.
I leave the memories where they belong, in that dark place deep in my soul. That’s what I have been doing for the last five years. Everyone says dealing with your problems takes time, but time is something I’m unwilling to give the past. The pain is better locked away.
Walking back to the vanity, I run a hand through my long blonde hair, making sure not a strand is out of place. A quick touch-up of concealer hides the smudge my tear left behind, and another coat of mascara highlights my light green eyes. The only sign of Jason’s attack is a touch of redness on my neck. I pat it with some foundation to even out my skin tone, watching the evidence disappear. I have the cheap glitter they give us dusted across my body, making it shimmer like a prize to all the perverts out there. Finally, I check my reflection once more, and smile when I realize there isn’t enough time to change into the black outfit.
The taste of Jason still lingers on my tongue, but I don’t have time to do anything about that now. Trying to ignore the taste of bourbon, I head out of the room and walk to the curtains that lead to the stage. I take a small peek at the crowd, looking for my victim, the one man who will tip enough to pay my rent for the month.
I do this every time before I go on. It took me a while to figure out which fish to reel in, but I’ve perfected the method now. There are just a few simple rules to this game.
He has to be sitting in the front, right by the stage.
It’s hard to pretend you want to fuck someone, so he has to be someone who I might want if the situation were different.
He has to have a hunger in his eyes, telling me he wants me more than I want him.
It takes less than a minute before I find my mark. He’s big, and I mean freaking huge. A baseball hat is turned backwards on his head, covering most of his dark hair, but it’s a touch shaggy around his ears. He’s got a few days’ stubble on his face and a slight darkening under one eye. Guess the guy went a few rounds with someone, but the smile on his face lets me know he won. Tattoos cover his arms. I can’t quite make them out, but they add to the whole package. He just screams bad boy. I stare at him for a second longer, taking in his features. There is something about him that’s familiar.
The fact that he has two girls on his leg will make this even more entertaining, especially considering one of the girls is Whitney. She’s new and thinks she’s special, because she spreads her legs for Jason. She’s been prancing around th
is place like her shit doesn’t stink, but I’m about to show her what a real woman can do to a man. When I’m done, he won’t even notice her if she drops down and starts sucking his dick.
The first chords of Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days fill the club, and I place one of my ‘fuck-me heels’ through the curtain. Adrenaline rushes through my body when the crowd roars, sending a tingle from my toes to the top of my head. This is my favorite part of working here—the game. Make them want you, need you, know they can’t function without you. Once they’re hooked and their wallets empty, I strut my ass away.
My eyes find their prey as a smile spreads across my lips.
Game On.
Chapter Two
Kane
“I can’t wait for you to see this bitch dance. The way she moves, you just know she’d be one hell of a ride.” My younger brother and training partner, Ozzy, downs another shot. I look over at him, shaking my head, as he reaches down and squeezes one of the waitress’s asses.
“How have I missed her, if she’s so hot?” I ask, taking another drink of my beer.
Ozzy shrugs. “I don’t know, bro, but I guarantee your dick will be harder than a spike by the time she’s done.”
Rubbing my hand down the thigh of the brunette on my right leg, I shoot him a smug smile. “Don’t worry about it. If I need some assistance later, these ladies will be more than happy to help me out.” They giggle, letting me know I’m not wrong.
The redhead sitting on my left leg has her hand on my denim-covered cock; it’s already at half-mast, glad to know it’s gonna be getting some soon. I’ve been training for the last three months, and Coach has a strict no pussy rule during training camp. Ninety days without getting any has me aching for release, especially since all my little brother wants to do is go to titty bars and bring girls back to the house.
The deprivation paid off in the long run. Even though my opponent was the favorite by a long shot, I took his ass out. The fact that I won cost people a hell of a lot of money. In four short months, I’m finally getting a title shot. Their asses won’t be betting against me again. People have always underestimated me my whole life, and now, it’s my time to show them they were dead wrong.
A song starts to play as the lights dim on everything but the stage, and the announcer says, “Welcome Little Miss Sunshine to the stage.” The crowd lets out a roar that drowns out all other sound. I’ve been to plenty of clubs, but I have never seen people go crazy like this. Maybe Ozzy is right about her. I’m intrigued, immediately anxious to see what the curtain unveils.
Ozzy stares at the curtain in anticipation, his chin lifted to the stage. “This is the dancer I was talking about.”
I see a light blue, sequined heel push out of the curtain. What follows is the hottest chick I’ve ever seen. She’s not very tall, maybe 5’ 5’’, but I swear her legs go on forever. They’re long and sleek, and the killer heels she’s wearing make them look even better. Shoes and all, they would look perfect over my shoulders while I bury my head between her legs.
She takes a few measured steps as she sways her hips, before turning her back slowly to the crowd. Her ass is barely covered in what I assume some would call a skirt, but it’s little more than a piece of material in the same shade as her shoes. Even with the dim light of the club, I can tell her ass is magnificent, two round globes that I’d love to sink my cock in between. She spins around, coming toward the front of the stage.
Her tits are about to burst out of her bra, which matches everything else. I’m not sure what to say about them other than holy hell. They’re not massive like the chicks’ sitting on my lap. Instead, they’re perfection, just big enough to fill my hand or mouth. The visual has my cock aching even more.
What draws my eyes the most is her hair. It nearly reaches her ass, and it sways from side to side with each move she makes. It’s blonde, but instead of being like that fake bottled shit, it’s the color of the purest honey. I can just imagine fisting the long locks as I pound into her, making her moan as I pull it, showing her that I am in complete control of her.
My eyes finally reach her face, and for the first time in my life, I understand pure lust. Her lips are luscious; they look as if they’re begging to be kissed, or be wrapped around my dick, and I would be more than happy to oblige. Her eyes draw my attention next and keep it. I’ve never seen anything quite like them before. The green color is so bright, they almost look like jewels. I have to wonder what they would look like if I were standing over her, shooting my come down her throat. Or, slamming into her from behind, her beautiful ass bouncing, me yanking her head back so I can see those green eyes glazing over as the orgasm rocks through her body.
I don’t have to wonder long, because her eyes lock on mine and her mouth falls open. She tosses her head back and lets out a loud moan, which I can barely hear over the music. In that moment, I know what she will look like when she comes, and I know I want her doing it while she’s riding my cock.
A second later, the spotlight hits her again, and she takes a step closer to me. She sways her hips from side to side, and my cock twitches in response. She shoots me a wink and moves toward the pole in the center of the stage. Just before she clutches it, she grabs her short skirt and tugs, leaving her standing in a light blue, jewel-covered G-string. I’ve never really cared what a woman wore under her clothes; I was always more interested in taking it off. Hell, if I wouldn’t love to find a way to fuck her in those panties.
Just as her eyes finally leave mine, the lyrics start to fill the room. Her hips gyrate with the beat as she twists around the pole. She flips herself around, grinding her ass against the pole, and then her green eyes come back to me while her hands slowly travel down her body. Licking her lips, she runs her hand lightly over her panties. My hands fist to keep from getting up and ripping her off that stage. I want her. Now.
My lips mimic hers, imagining the taste of her in my mouth. I can’t help but grind my hips up into the redhead’s hand, needing a little friction. She giggles, thinking my cock is hard for her, but there is only one thing it wants right now, and she’s on the stage in front of me. Her eyes fall on the girls sitting on my leg, and she laughs. She’s enjoying this little game. If she wants to play, we can.
I whisper in the redhead’s ear, “Where do I get a private dance?”
She turns toward me. “I’ll show you.”
Holding her in place, my eyes move back to the stage. Sunshine gets a fire in her eyes. She drops down to the floor before standing back up. Her hands cup her breasts, and my mouth waters. In my head, my hands replace hers. I hope this doesn’t last much longer, ‘cause I sure as hell won’t.
She throws back her head, breaking eye contact, and rolls her body in a way that lets me know she is going to be one hell of a ride. Spinning back around, she wraps her body around the pole, moving up and down, each time getting higher on the metal.
When she reaches the midpoint of the pole, she locks her thighs around it. Her hands release it, and she falls back, letting her long blonde hair fall to the floor as she rides the pole. She arches her back, almost forming a U. Suddenly, a different picture comes to my mind: her lying on her back wearing those heels, with me pounding into her while she holds her ankles.
She stays like that for just a second, everyone in the crowd going wild. Then, she flips back up and slowly glides her way back down, grinding her pussy into the pole the entire way. Once she’s back on the ground, she locks her bright green eyes on me again and wraps one hand back around the pole to twirl. The other is inside the cup of her bra, and even from here, I can tell she’s pinching her nipple. I wish it were my hands on her body right now. The woman on my right is whispering in my ear, but I’m making no effort to listen. Right now, it’s only me and Little Miss Sunshine.
As the song winds down, coming to an end, she slowly releases the pole and walks toward me. The seductive sway of her hips has my eyes glued to her tits and my hand pushing the girls off my lap. Before
I realize it, I have my wallet out and a hand full of bills.
She’s right at the edge of the stage when she smiles and bends downs to me. Only a foot in front of me, she reaches back and releases her bra. Her beautiful tits are right in my face. The urge to touch her is so strong. I have to clench my fists to fight from pulling her to me. I’ve gotta get a taste. I need to have this girl.
“You’re mine tonight.” My voice is deep as I try to keep hold of what little control I can. I take the bills, gently tucking them into the waistband of her G-string.
When my hand leaves her, she gives me a wink before turning and slowly strutting back to the pole. She faces it, holding on to it before dropping down and popping her ass out a few times, and then exits the stage. The guys around me go insane, and it makes my blood boil.
The bastards can cheer all they want, but she will be mine tonight.
Chapter Three
Emmy
I knew he would be mine from the minute our eyes met. I was like a lioness stalking her prey, and he was mine tonight. When his eyes locked with mine, I again felt like I had seen his face before. I doubt it, though. There is no way I could forget someone who looked like that.
Even his voice made my insides quiver. The man was pure sex on a stick, but it was more than just his sex appeal. There was just something about him, something that pulled me to him. He seems like he could be the one man I may even consider breaking my rules for. The craziest part is I have no idea what it is about him; it’s like this uncontrollable pull. It drew me right to him.
Knowing he felt the same way just made the game even more fun. The look Whitney gave me when he pushed her off his knee only made me happier. That bitch needs to learn her place here, and it sure isn’t at the top. That spot is reserved for me. It has been since the first time I walked on stage, and it will be until I hang up my stilettos.