by Adele Niles
Max looked exactly like I imagined a strip club manager would—a little overweight, a little skeezy, a little bald. He looked up, giving me a once-over that made me feel a little uncomfortable.
Was this what Jessie went through every night?
“A little thick, nice.” Max nodded. He waved for me to come closer. “Sit down, we’ll do your new hire paperwork and then you’re on the floor.”
“Okay. Great. Thank you for the job, I won’t let—”
“Ah, no need for ass-kissing, sugar. Just sign the papers. I need you working, not talking.”
Jessie patted my shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
She smiled, then turned and headed off.
I sat down across from Max. He pushed a pile of paperwork toward me.
I skimmed through it, signing where indicated. Max took the papers when I was done.
He gestured toward me with one hand. “Stand up. Let me get a look at you.”
I slowly stood up, lowering my head.
He sighed. “What’ve you got on under that, huh?”
I blushed.
“Jesus. If that’s all it takes to get you red in the face, you won’t last long here. Toughen up. Let me see the bra.”
I hesitated, then untied the shirt and opened it.
Max nodded. “Lose the shirt and you’re good to go.”
“Um, okay.” I nodded. “Is there any training I need to go through? Do I need to meet anybody?”
He shrugged. “Tell the bar you’re the new girl and don’t spill shit on my floors. Be nice to the customers.” He paused, frowning. “And it’s mask night. See if one of the other girls has an extra.”
He shooed me from the room and slammed the door behind me.
Well, that was the end of it, I guessed.
I turned and went out on to the floor.
The club was dark. The stage, of course, was brightly lit; an athletic-looking girl wearing strategically placed straps was holding herself up on the pole as it spun, doing a split upside down. Men seated around the bar cheered for her. At circular booths, girls danced on tables or in laps, money sticking out of the straps of their bras and panties.
What had I gotten myself into?
I bit my lip, walking toward the bar. I felt like I hadn’t done enough. Like my clothes were wrong, my makeup wasn’t strong enough.
I was going to crash and burn on my first night.
But I made it to the bar and introduced myself. The girls behind the bar were friendly; they gave me a tray and told me what section to take over, and one of them passed me a masquerade-style mask. It was cheap, from the party store, but it was black and red with little rhinestones around the eyes.
It was cute, and matched my bra.
I put it on and took a deep breath.
I was somebody else.
I could do this.
I turned and went to my first table, breathless.
An hour passed before I knew it.
It wasn’t at all what I’d braced myself for. Most of the customers were friendly; none of them had made a grab for me. The dancers were really nice, too; I took them drinks backstage, and one of them slipped a ten from her bra into mine. I carried another tray of drinks to a table near the back, bending over a little as I passed out glasses.
I could see Max behind the table, waving for my attention.
With my tray empty, I went to him. “Hey, what’s up?”
“You’re on stage in five.”
I blinked.
On stage?
That had to be a mistake.
“I—I’m not a dancer.”
“Yeah, you are. Every girl I hire is a dancer.”
I gasped. “No, I seriously don’t dance! What am I supposed to do?”
“Shake your tits and ass! Do what she’s doing!”
He pointed to the girl on stage. I watched as she dropped to her knees, whipped her long blonde hair in a circle, and started to shimmy like her life depended on it.
Oh, I was fucked.
I swallowed and moved to drop my tray off at the bar, then walked backstage.
Jessie was there, looking nervous. She’d washed off the blacklight paint and changed—now she looked like a chick out of a rock video. She’d be right at home shaking her ass on the hood of a car surrounded by fire.
Next to her, I looked like a mess.
She hurried to me, grabbing my arms. “I told him you’re not a dancer,” she said anxiously. “I’m so sorry!”
“It—this is gonna be bad.”
Jessie shook her head. “No! I’ll go out with you. Just follow my lead, okay?”
Like I could do what she did.
I’d seen her on stage twice already—once on the pole, once on the floor. She was amazing. She was strong and athletic. She did amazing stuff on the floor that looked incredibly sexy.
I was afraid that I would just end up looking like a beached whale.
Still, I had no choice. Max was adamant that I go out there, so I was going.
Jessie turned and scurried off for a second. She came back with two shots of tequila in her hands. “Here. Drink it. It’ll ease your nerves.”
“I don’t know.”
“Trust me, okay?”
She was right. I had to trust her. She was the expert here, not me.
I knocked back the shot.
When I looked back, she was still holding the other. She took the empty glass and put the second shot into my hand.
“Are you serious?” I said.
“Yes! It’s called liquid courage for a reason. Drink it. The song’ll be over before you feel anything.”
I shrugged. I was already going to embarrass myself. What would it matter if I was drunk, too?
I threw back the second shot. Jessie took the glass and put it down.
In a lull between songs, she nudged me to go up on the stage.
I did.
The lights were blinding. I blinked, sure that I looked stupid up here.
But there was a scattering of applause.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
A song started—something hard, definitely rock. I didn’t know it, but I could hear the beat.
I glanced to my left. Jessie had her hand on the pole, walking in a slow circle around it.
She was close by. Thank God.
She approached me in her slow circle. “Shake your hips to the beat. Slow.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, feeling the beat rattle the stage. I moved my hips—left, right, left, right. Slow, hitting each drum beat.
Somebody cheered.
I let myself smile.
Chapter Four
Cody
At least we were starting at a nice bar—something upscale, quiet. A place people went to for drinks, not dancing.
I’d put aside a long night of work for Dylan. Here, though, I could reply to emails.
It wasn’t a lot, but it made me feel better.
Dylan leaned over the table and tapped on my phone screen. “Dude, c’mon. Put that thing away. We’re here to have fun, not work.”
I looked up at him. With one hand, I picked up my tumbler of bourbon and gave it a little shake, rattling the ice in the glass. “I’m having a great time, thanks.”
“Oh, please. You’re still on your damn phone, probably answering work emails. Can’t you put it away for a little while? One night won’t kill you.”
It wouldn’t kill me, but it was very inconvenient.
Still, he was the groom-to-be. I nodded and tucked my phone into my coat pocket. “All right. It’s put away.”
“Thanks. Don’t get it back out unless you’re calling us a Lyft or something.”
“Sure thing.” I took another sip of my bourbon.
This was going to be a long night.
I was happy for Dylan, of course—he was a hard worker, and a good man. He was loyal to his fiancée, who he talked about like she hung the moon. He didn’t tolerate any of the ‘old ball-a
nd-chain’ jokes men liked to make about marriage; instead, he insisted that his fiancée was his best friend and he couldn’t wait to marry her.
It was sweet, really.
But this wasn’t my scene. I didn’t like to party. I didn’t care for getting drunk, and I certainly wasn’t looking to take any women home.
And with that thought in mind, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Dylan leaned close, talking into my ear. “Dude, there’s a really hot brunette checking you out. At the bar.”
Of course.
I looked up. She was indeed beautiful, with long curls and a dress that fit her like a glove. She smiled at me, then took a sip from a glass of red wine.
I lifted my bourbon toward her in a little toast and took a sip.
She smiled.
Even if I didn’t plan on taking her home, there was no reason to be rude.
Dylan grinned, taking a long drink from his own glass of bourbon. He was quickly on his way to being drunk, and it was obvious that he didn’t plan on slowing down. “Hell yeah, dude, get her number,” he said with a laugh. “Take her home!”
“You’re very drunk, Dylan.”
“Yeah! It’s my fucking bachelor week, dude. I’m gonna be wasted until Saturday!”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe don’t go into your wedding with a hangover?”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”
I didn’t plan on worrying about him, but I did want his wedding to be nice.
He threw an arm around my shoulders, laughing. “I promise, it’s all gonna be good.”
“Okay.” I patted his shoulder. “Sit back down.”
I glanced at the brunette again. She was still watching us.
I smiled at her.
She returned it, then looked away.
“Shots!” one of the other guys called out.
Oh, no.
A few minutes later, our waitress dropped off a tray of shots—one for everyone, plus an extra for Dylan. He waited until everyone had one in hand before knocking his back.
We all followed suit, throwing back our shots of tequila.
I was going to regret this in the morning.
For a while, we sat around the table, drinking and talking. A few of Dylan’s friends broke off to go talk to women, but I stayed put.
I’d taken my phone out of the pocket again when the chair next to me scraped on the floor.
I looked up.
The brunette.
She smiled, putting a second tumbler of bourbon in front of me. “You look like a top shelf kind of guy.”
I smiled back. “Usually. But who doesn’t like some cheap stuff every now and again?”
She laughed, holding her right hand out. “I’m Andrea.”
“Nice to meet you, Andrea. Cody.”
She nodded. “Cody. I always liked that name. It’s a good one.”
I chuckled. “Well, thanks. I can’t say I’ve met many Andreas, but you seem like a good one.”
“Do I? I was going more for seductive.”
Right to the point.
Not a bad quality.
I tilted my head. “Seductive is definitely applicable.”
Andrea laughed. “So what brings you boys out tonight? Your friend is a little drunk.”
I looked to Dylan, talking to one of the other men he’d invited. I nodded. “It’s his bachelor week. He’s getting married on Saturday.”
“Well, congratulations to him.” Andrea smiled. She made a point of looking at my hand. “You don’t seem to have a ring on. Single?”
“Currently unattached.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Mm, a businessman. I see.”
I laughed. “Guilty as charged.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but Dylan leaned over my shoulder. “Hey, we’re gonna bail soon, go to a strip club! C’mon, pay your tab.”
I looked to Andrea and chuckled. “I guess that’s my cue.”
She grinned and grabbed one of the napkins on the table. I watched her grab a pen from her purse. She wrote her name and number on the napkin before pressing it into my hand. “Call me if you need a date for the wedding.”
“Oh, I will. Thank you.”
I watched her walk away, her ass swaying under her tight skirt.
Maybe she’d be coming with me on Saturday. Even if we didn’t work out, she’d be a good time for a night.
I flagged down the waitress and handed over my card, paying the whole table’s tab. Dylan threw his arm around me again. “You’re the best, dude. The absolute best. Cool as hell.”
I chuckled. “I know.”
* * * * *
Half an hour later, the limo dropped us off at Bounce.
I’d never been here, but Dylan assured me it was the best strip club in town, the best place to get a lap dance.
I trusted him.
We paid our cover charge and went up toward the front. The area right around the stage was empty, with most of the crowd back at the bar.
Dylan was already fucked up. He staggered as we walked, leaning heavily on two of his friends. We all quietly agreed that we were only giving him water until he sobered up a little.
He knew he was running a meeting in the morning, since I wouldn’t be in the building.
I needed him to pull it together just a little.
And besides that, security was already onto us. A few men in suits were already casting us wary glances.
I really hoped this didn’t turn into a disaster.
Two girls were on stage. One of them, petite and athletic-looking, was doing rather impressive pole tricks; the other girl looked uncomfortable on stage, awkwardly gyrating to the music.
She was a little off beat, but she was gorgeous.
I leaned back to watch her.
Our eyes met, and her tongue swiped across her lower lip.
Wow.
Chapter Five
Autumn
I still didn’t really know what was supposed to be happening.
People started to clear out as I danced. I couldn’t help being disappointed; I knew I wasn’t a dancer, but part of me had hoped that I’d just be a natural.
Instead, I was just shaking my hips. Trying to make faces that I hoped were sexy.
Wishing I had taken up yoga, like every single New Year’s resolution I forgot by the middle of January. Then, I could have been flexible enough to move on stage.
But instead I just kept shaking my hips, trying to keep on the rhythm of the song.
A group of guys came closer. I watched them sit down at the front.
One of them was hot. Tall and distinguished-looking, his eyes bright green in the light from the stage. He was well-dressed, too. He looked rich, or at least very upper middle-class.
I couldn’t help myself. I licked my lower lip as I looked down at him.
He looked back at me, his eyes sweeping over my body.
He didn’t look repulsed—if anything, he leaned forward in his seat.
Maybe he liked curvy girls.
Behind me, Jessie said something. I glanced back; she was upside-down on the pole, her legs in a V above her head. “Get on your knees! Take your skirt off!”
Right, my skirt.
It was all I had to take off. Blue laws were a real bitch—I’d heard Jessie complain about them plenty, angry that she couldn’t take her bra off in the club without getting arrested. It seemed silly to me, that men would go to a strip club where they couldn’t actually see any boobs.
But still—the skirt could go.
I slowly dropped to my knees in front of the handsome man, glad the skirt zipped all the way down one side. I locked eyes with him as I pulled the zipper down, slowly, revealing my underwear.
He looked me over, then reached into his pocket.
He removed his wallet, pulled out a twenty, and laid it on the stage in front of me.
I looked over my shoulder for Jessie.
“Put it in your bra!”
Ri
ght, okay.
I lowered myself toward him, almost laying on the stage. I grabbed the twenty with one hand and tucked it into the cup of my bra. “Thanks, handsome.”
He smiled.
I felt a sudden burst of inspiration, or maybe it was just the shots kicking in. I pushed myself back up to my knees and rose up on them, then dropped back down, moving like I was riding a man.
He watched my every move.
It was turning me on.
I couldn’t remember a man ever looking at me like that. Even men I’d slept with hadn’t been so obviously interested in what I was doing.
I couldn’t help but wish that he was under me, inside me.
God, I was getting wet already.
I tilted my head back, running my hands over my body until the song ended.
There was a scattering of applause—not a lot, but enough to boost my ego.
I was grinning as I walked off stage, following Jessie.
She turned, immediately throwing her arms around me. “Autumn, that was good!”
I laughed. “I mean, it wasn’t, but thank you. I guess you have to teach me how to dance now.”
She grinned. “Sure, yeah! I’ll give you some lessons.”
“New girl!”
I turned my head. Max was backstage, frowning at me. “Put your skirt back on and get out there! The men need drinks!”
“Okay.” I looked at Jessie once more, grinning still.
The stage kitten brought me my skirt, and I put it back on, zipping it shut.
A stop at the bar later, I had my tray in hand and was making my way through the room.
I wanted to talk to the hot guy.
But as I came toward the stage, his spot was empty. His friends were still there, but he was gone.
I was way more disappointed than I’d expected to be.
I sighed and took a step forward, but a hand touched my back.
I gasped.
“You were gorgeous. Eyes that beautiful should be a crime.”
I knew it was him. I didn’t have to look to know.
His voice sounded exactly how I imagined it—smooth, deep.
It went straight between my thighs.
I moaned quietly. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I did. I think I’ll be back. Who do I ask for if I want to see you again?”