Off Limits

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Off Limits Page 6

by Vivian Ward


  Chapter 8

  Chase

  I’ve been watching the clock like crazy waiting for Melanie to come walking through the door. I’ve already talked to Alyssa about training her tonight and she’s so excited to meet Melanie.

  The girls here are friendly and they always like it when I bring in a new girl. They’re pretty tight and look after one another, and I look after all of them.

  At a quarter till, she walks through the double glass doors wearing the hottest outfit I’ve ever seen any of the cocktail waitresses wear—or maybe it’s just because she’s the one wearing it.

  She has on a tiny, tight pair of shiny pink shorts with white trim that make her long legs appear even longer. I’d guess her height to be somewhere around 5’6” but she’s all legs; always has been.

  You’d almost swear she did professional dancing or skating because her legs are sculpted to perfection. They have perfect muscle definition, or maybe it’s the way they look in the white platform high heels that she’s wearing which contrast against her tan skin.

  The shorts hang low on her curvy hips and the little elastic band hugs her skinny waist, just below her naval. It makes me want to do a body shot right off of her stomach. Her toned abs would be perfect for it.

  It almost makes me wonder if maybe she works out, too.

  She’s wearing a very low-cut crop top that hangs just below her perfectly shaped tits. I’d almost swear they were fake because they look so perfect, but she had a great boobs in high school; though it seems that pregnancy might have helped enhance them a bit.

  She turns around and begins talking to Zeke, allowing me to get a glimpse of her backside.

  Her long brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail that sits high up on her head, accentuating some of her red highlights that dangle in the dim light. Even with her sleek ponytail, her hair still looks amazingly long as the tips of her hair almost reach the bottom of her crop top that exposes most of her back.

  Zeke says something to her and the two of them smile before she turns to look at me, chuckling just a bit.

  Realizing that I’m gawking at her, I close my mouth and motion for her to come over to the bar where I’m helping one of the girls refill the ice bin.

  “Alyssa, this is Melanie,” I say. “You’ll be training her tonight.”

  “Hi, Melanie,” Alyssa says, offering her hand to shake.

  “Nice to meet you, Alyssa,” she takes her hand and smiles at me.

  “Come with me and I’ll show you where to put your purse and how to check in for your shift.”

  The two of them saunter off into the backroom behind the bar that’s next to my office. I don’t have to be with the two of them to know what they’re doing.

  Alyssa is likely showing her to the backroom where all of the girls hang out, take their breaks and get ready for their show. Everything the girls could ever need is in their dressing room—a room that I never go in.

  Since that’s where they change and do their hair and makeup, I steer clear of it. That’s their private area. The last time I was in that room was when I’d heard that one of the girls—Stacie—was back there crying because some guy grabbed a hold of her in one of the private rooms and tried to force a sex act on her.

  I made sure that all of the girls were decent and then I barged into the room to talk to her to find out who the guy was. Of course, he’d already figured that he was going to get his ass kicked so he’d left in a hurry before she made it to the girl’s break room, but Zeke and I watched the parking lot surveillance footage to see what he looked like and what he was driving.

  It wasn’t but four days later when the creep showed back up; luckily Stacie wasn’t working that night so she didn’t have to see him again. Zeke followed my instructions and let the guy in. The two of us watched him like a hawk and when he asked one of the girls—Mia— for a private dance, she gratefully obliged and asked him to wait for her while she grabbed him something cold to drink.

  All of the girls knew that if he asked for a private dance, to say yes because they weren’t actually going to give him one. Instead, Zeke and I paid him a visit in the private room. We could’ve gotten him in the parking lot, but that could’ve left witnesses and what we did to him would have put both of us in jail.

  After we beat the hell out of him and informed him that he was never allowed to come back to the club or touch any of our girls again, I gave him one final blow to the jaw that rendered him unconscious. When the coast was clear, Zeke carried him out to his car and drove him to a side road not too far from the club where I followed close behind in my SUV.

  Zeke turned the engine off and locked him in his car before climbing into the passenger seat next to me. The two of us returned to the club as though nothing ever happened.

  We have our own way of dealing with things. They might not always be the legal way, but we get our message across which is why the girls in our club rarely have problems.

  When the girls come back out to the bar, I watch Melanie as Alyssa shows her around and tells her where everything is. She has no idea that I’m watching her and is completely absorbed into everything that Alyssa is telling her.

  She’s so fucking hot.

  Even though I’ve never been the relationship type guy, I’m kind of kicking myself in the ass for not hitting on her back in high school when I had the chance. It’s probably better that way; that I never hit on her. Back then she wouldn’t have been any different than any of the other girls.

  She would’ve just been another notch on the bedpost and forgotten by my next practice—and it’s not because I didn’t have a heart. That’s just how guys like me are in high school. We have a short attention span and only want what we want, when we want it. I think guys are hardwired that way or something.

  I swear if anyone tries to give her any shit, they won’t be as lucky as the asshole that Zeke and I beat up and left in his car on the side of the road. Listening to her talk about her ex that day at the diner was enough to tell me that she’s been put through hell and back.

  I’ll make sure it never happens again.

  Melanie is a good woman, and she deserves better. She seems to be very attached to her son; Cam, I think is his name. Her face lit up when she talked about him.

  She and Alyssa are giggling as they walk from table to table, each carrying a tray while they take drink orders. I can only imagine what they’re talking about. If they’re like any of the conversations that the girls normally have, they’re making fun of all the guys that come into the place or they’re talking about girl shit.

  Watching her strut around in those white platform heels in those tiny short pink shorts is driving me insane. I have to keep forcing myself to think of sports, fights, and lifting weights—anything besides her wrapping those long, sexy legs around my waist.

  The girls come back behind the counter to grab some beers and make a few shots. My cock nearly rips my zipper apart when she bends over to grab a new bottle of tequila.

  Holy fuck.

  Her little pink shorts hug the two round globes filling out the back of her shorts, riding all the way up her crotch and her legs look even longer than they did when she walked through the door. I imagine myself grabbing her tiny waist and fucking her right then and there, but the thought is interrupted by a short, fat balding guy who resembles an old, washed out Ron Jeremy.

  “Hey!” he slams his fist down on the counter. “You gonna wait on me or what? I said a Scotch on the rocks! My favorite girl’s about to come on,” he bitches.

  “Yeah,” I say trying to keep my cock pointed toward the dark counter to prevent the girls from seeing my hard on. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  I make his drink and he slaps his money on the counter.

  “And give me all of my change so I can give it to my girl,” he says.

  Right, like his $3.50 will make all of the world of difference to one of my girls, but whatever.

  “Here you go,” I say. “Sorry about
your wait. Have a good time.”

  He pulls his money off the counter and shoves it into his pocket before waddling over to the front row of seats surrounding the stage.

  “Now, you know how to pour shots and make drinks, right?” Alyssa asks her.

  She nods her head yes.

  “Yeah, I know how to pour shots and I know what’s in most drinks. How do you ring them up?” Melanie asks, pointing at the touch screen computer.

  The two go over to the computer and Alyssa shows her how to punch in and delete things, and explains how everything works. She’s attentively listening, paying attention to every word that Alyssa says.

  They place the drinks on the tray until the order is complete and then she shows Melanie how to carry it on her fingertips. She struggles for a minute at first with all the liquids, but then she gracefully struts it to the appropriate tables and serves up the drinks.

  All of the men are staring at her and leaning in their chairs to get a good look at her ass. I can’t say that I blame them but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to deck all of them for checking her out.

  I’m so screwed.

  Chapter 9

  Melanie

  This is so easy that it’s ridiculous and the men are freely giving me tips with each order, even if it’s just a few bucks.

  There are a couple of gentlemen who are running tabs, and we’ve secured their credit card behind the counter, and even they’re tipping me a few dollars every time I deliver drinks.

  I could never imagine making tips like this at the diner. I’m just training and have only been here a few hours but I’ve already made almost double what I made at the diner today—which was only twenty-two dollars and some change.

  Alyssa is super nice and I really like her. She and I hit it off almost immediately.

  When she took me to the dressing room, I felt awkward and was a bit worried about going in there. I expected some of the dancers to be half naked, telling me to get out, but it wasn’t anything like that at all.

  “You can go ahead and go on break,” Alyssa says to me as she wipes down a table that just became empty.

  “Aren’t you going to come with me?” I ask, hoping she says yes.

  “No, I’ve got a few things to do and then I’ll go when you come back. Go have a smoke or something.”

  I laugh. I quit smoking when I found out that I was pregnant. Actually, the smell of cigarettes started to gross me out before I knew that I was pregnant, so when I found out that I was expecting, I just quit cold turkey.

  I’ve been tempted to take up smoking again, especially when Garrett and I were going through our divorce, but I decided against it.

  “I don’t smoke,” I say to her. “I can just keep helping you until we’re finished.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. We both can’t go at the same time. Go take a load off in the dressing room for a few while I finish up.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask her.

  She nods and waves me off as she picks up a few beer bottles and wipes the table.

  Taking my cue to leave, I head for the dressing room where one of the dancers is getting ready for her turn to dance when I walk in. She looks friendly, but I decide to have a seat at the small table to give her some privacy.

  “Hi honey,” she smiles at me. “You must be the new girl that Chase was talking about. I’m Brook, but you can call me Amber.”

  She sticks her hand out to shake mine.

  “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Melanie.”

  I can’t believe that Chase was talking about me. Curiosity gets the better of me as I watch her put on her stage makeup.

  “What did Chase say about me, exactly? All good things, I hope.”

  She tilts her head to the side as she sweeps on a fresh layer of eyeshadow.

  “Not much,” she says as she begins working on her other eye. “Just that you’re an old friend and that you’d fit right in.” She picks up a tube of mascara and dips the wand into the container a few times to coat the brush. “How are you liking it so far?”

  I take a seat at the makeup station next to her and shrug my shoulders.

  “It’s not bad. I think I like it, actually. The guys seem to tip well.”

  She nods as she makes an ‘O’ with her mouth and begins applying a layer of mascara to her lashes.

  “Yeah, the men who come into this place are loaded. They’re mostly corporates who come in to unwind or get away from their ball-and-chain.”

  “Their ball-and-chain?” I laugh. “That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

  She stops doing her makeup and turns to me.

  “Oh, yeah. You know the type. They come in here to get away from their prude wives, 2.5 kids, and all that. They like it here because they get to live in a fantasy world.”

  I nod, even though I’m not exactly sure what she means by living in a fantasy world.

  “They like to think that all of us younger girls are interested in them, like we like them or something,” she says as though she knew that I didn’t understand what she was talking about. “And for the kind of money they flash in here, I’ll pretend I’m interested in just about anyone.”

  She begins to pick up a tube of liquid eyeliner to continue working on her eyes, but the way she’s applying it is all wrong.

  “You know,” I say. “I went to school for cosmetology. If you want your eyes to pop, there’s a trick to it that’s really easy. Do you mind if I show you?”

  She stops doing her makeup and looks at me through the mirror before handing me the eyeliner.

  “If you went to school, what are you doing in a place like this?”

  Her tone is sincere.

  “I didn’t get to finish school because I got pregnant and quit going.”

  “Are you married?” she asks.

  “No,” I shake my head. “Single. Here, close your eye like you’re looking down.” She does as I ask, allowing me to start working on her eyes. “But I’ve always loved hair and makeup. Even though I didn’t get to finish school, I’m still very much into it. I like trying different looks, so sometimes I practice what I see in magazines.”

  I continue working on her eye, painting on a thin line just above her dark lashes.

  “What do you do? Find models that you like and try to mimic their looks?” she asks, keeping her eyes closed while I start on the next one.

  “Pretty much, but most of the time, the photos are airbrushed or photoshopped so it can be tricky to imitate. I like the challenge, though. Most of the time I can nail it on my first attempt. I especially like doing hair, too.”

  I finish up working on her second eye and tell her to look in the mirror.

  “Wow! You did a great job. I love this look,” she says, leaning closer to examine my handiwork. “My eyes really do pop.” She looks up at me. “What can you do with hair? I need a new look.”

  “How much time do you have before you go on stage?” I ask.

  She glances up at the clock hanging next to the door. “I go on in ten. Is that enough time?”

  “Do you like to wear your hair up or down?” I ask.

  “Down so I can swing it around. The guys love that.”

  “Okay, turn around and face the mirror.”

  I grab a comb that’s lying in front of her on the counter and begin sectioning her hair. She’s got long blonde hair that’s very thick, which is gorgeous.

  Pulling the sides of her hair back, I create a sort of a knot and tie part of her hair back with it before securing it with a few bobby pins.

  “I can’t believe how much bigger my eyes look,” she says, still admiring them.

  I smile at her in the mirror and reach for the curling iron that’s already heated up.

  “Thanks. The trick is to apply it in a way that follows the natural shape of your eyes. Most women try to put it on straight, but when you do that, it makes your eyes appear smaller because the line is too hard. If you follow the shape of your eye, it’s more natural a
nd makes them pop.”

  Grabbing a chunky section of her blonde tresses, I loosely wrap it around the barrel of the curling iron and hold it there just long enough for the heat to give her hair the body that it needs before moving onto the next section.

  “I always wanted to open my own shop,” I tell her. “Well, a salon, actually. Maybe one of these days I will, but it’ll be a long time from now.”

  “That would be nice,” she says. “If you’ve got the talent, and it looks like you do, I say go for it.”

  I finish the last section of her hair and pick up a bottle of hairspray, lightly misting her curls before running my fingers through them to loosen them up so they’re not so tight.

  “There, how’s that?” I ask.

  She picks up a large handheld mirror and looks at the back of her hair in the bigger mirror that she’s sitting in front of.

  “Oh, that’s cute! I really like that.” She runs her own hands through the body of her hair. “You’ve really got some skills. I like this look.”

  “Thank you,” I say, looking at the time. “I think we’d better get going. I need to give Alyssa a break. It was nice chatting with you.”

  “You too, honey. I love my new do. It’s super cute. Good luck with the tables tonight. I know it’s kind of slow, but it’ll get better this weekend; it always does.”

  If this is slow, I can’t wait until it’s busy to see what kind of money I can make. I’ve only been here for a few hours and I’ve already made almost sixty dollars, but she’s right. It is slow right now. Most of the men have left, except for a few who look like they might not have to get up for a job in the morning; like the Ron Jeremy lookalike.

  The two of us walk out of the dressing room together, and I see Alyssa standing behind the bar talking to Chase.

  “Oh, I love your hair,” Alyssa says to Amber. “It looks so pretty!”

  Amber smiles at me and says, “Thanks! I love it, too. Melanie did it for me. She also helped with my makeup.”

 

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