“Can you hold this for me ’til the end of the night?” Amp asked, extending the bag of cash he’d just collected in tips. He looked down at his body, covered in nothing but a G-string. “Clearly I don’t have anywhere to put it.”
Dime laughed as she took the money. “Oh, so you do have a sense of humor.”
Amp turned away, mainly so that Dime wouldn’t see him blush. His father had taught him that when you remain in serious mode, people take you seriously. This had been instilled in Amp at a young age, and he had always displayed such manners, especially in the workplace. In jail it had been a defense mechanism too. That was the last place he wanted people to think he was an easygoing, push-over kind of guy. He straightened up his face and turned back to Dime.
“You’re always so serious,” she said.
Amp couldn’t argue with that fact.
Dime stuffed the money under the counter. “Well, you better get back to work, Black Magic.” She winked.
“Thanks.” Amp walked away, disappearing into the locker room . . . just like magic.
“Yo, Amp, man—twelve o’clock,” Babyface said as Amp approached him near the bar.
Amp turned around and looked in the direction where Babyface was pointing. Straight ahead, close to the back, Amp saw a woman settled at a table alone. Her legs were crossed, and her chocolate thigh was peeking out of the red wrap dress she was wearing. The dress was cut low, and the cleavage was lovely. Her hair was slicked back in a bun. A small diamond-encrusted circle charm dangled from the thin platinum chain around her neck. As her crossed leg dangled, Amp noticed the same red bottom on her shoes that he’d seen on Madam’s the day he first met her at the park.
Seeing that she now had Amp’s attention from all the way across the room, the woman did a slight wave at Amp and then leaned over to her drink. She cupped her hands around the bowl of the glass like she was caressing balls, then wrapped her lips, which were covered in a plum sparkle lipstick, around her straw.
Her seductive movements had both Babyface and Amp in a trance. Babyface, with his eyes glued to the woman, said, “I swear if you don’t go over there and holler at her, I’m going to.”
Amp stared at her a little longer. Clearly she knew she was being watched as she put on a show, running her hand up her leg as if she had an itch she needed to scratch. The come hither look she was giving Amp made him want to be the one who scratched it.
“What’s up with her?” Amp asked Babyface.
“She’s one of Madam’s friends. I hear she just got a divorce when she found out her husband was having multiple affairs with strippers.”
“Damn,” Amp said. “Dude must have been a fool messing around with a woman like that at home.”
“Yeah,” Babyface agreed. “And now she wants a private dance from you. Guess you’re her revenge,” he said with a laugh.
“Word,” Amp said, almost mesmerized. He looked her over slowly and exhaled. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman in any capacity, especially in a one-on-one intimate setting, and this grown-ass woman right here was gonna be a problem—in the best possible way.
Amp wasn’t even sure how to approach her; he just knew it had to be done.
“Well, I see one of my regulars,” Babyface said to Amp, snapping him out of his trance. “I’m gonna go and let you handle that.” He looked at the woman one last time. “If you can.” He hit Amp on the back and then walked away.
Amp swallowed hard and rubbed his hands together. He wasn’t quite sure what he should say to her. He practiced in his head: Hey, lovely lady, I was told you wanted a lap dance. No, that wouldn’t work. That sounded corny, the whole “lovely lady” bit.
YouTube might have taught him how to move his ass, but the lesson he hadn’t been schooled in was the shit-talking game that went on in all strip clubs. He would definitely have to ask his fellow dancers about that aspect of the business, but right now he was a day late and a dollar short—that would be literally, if he didn’t hurry up and make his way over to ol’ girl.
Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Amp headed over toward the woman. On his way over, he mumbled a couple more things he could possibly say, but everything sounded so rehearsed, rightfully so, since that’s exactly what he was doing. By the time he made it over to her table, all his concerns about what to say were for naught, since she spoke first.
“So you gonna dance for Mommy?” she said, smacking her hand on the hundred dollar bill she had laid on the table. From across the room she might have seemed as harmless as a kitten, but the lioness had definitely come out of her, and she was ready to get right down to business.
“Right here?” Amp asked.
“I can think of some other places, but for now, right here will be fine.” She leaned back in her chair and got her Basic Instinct on, spreading her legs just wide enough to let Amp know she would not be throwing any panties at him tonight, because she wasn’t wearing any. Amp appreciated the sight of her fresh Brazilian for a moment. Other than in the pages of the magazines that had helped him get through his time in prison, he hadn’t seen anything like this in five years.
He realized he didn’t have to waste his time coming up with something to say. Words were not what she was the least bit interested in. It was all about action, so Amp didn’t hesitate to give her just what she wanted.
Amp’s nerves were settled as the woman’s erotic aura set the atmosphere for him to go all in with the private dance. He started with the grinding of his hips. She rocked her head back and forth to the beat of his hips. He turned around, putting his hands behind his head while he continued to grind. He placed his hand around her throat, gently easing her back in her seat. Then he slid both hands from her neck to her shoulders and down her arms, all while still rolling his hips. He could feel her goose-bumps as he continued moving his strong, manly hands lower to her waist, then to her hips, and further south to her knees.
Amp reached up and spread her legs open without breaking eye contact. He could tell this turned the woman on immensely as her breathing became more rapid. He leaned in slowly, stopping inches away from her pretty little shaved honeypot. Amp took in a breath and softly blew it on her now dripping wet lips. She jerked just a little as that tingle sprinted up her spine. Within seconds, the woman in red was gripping his ass cheeks the same way she had been gripping her glass just moments ago.
Although no words were being spoken, a lot was being said. Amp placed a hand on each of her knees while returning a seductive stare into her eyes. Never once did she look away and play shy girl like some of the other women would do. She let Amp know that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by his flawless physique, chiseled face, strong muscles, and tough attitude.
Tonight, the woman in red was putting her husband’s alimony to good use as she slapped another hundred dollar bill down on the table. Amp danced like there was no tomorrow. He made her feel special and wanted again. Before the night was over, perhaps she’d be calling up her ex and telling him that she got it—that she now understood how one could fall in love with a stripper.
There was someone else in the room who understood how one could possibly fall for a stripper, but Amp was too caught up in the dance and the fact that the woman in red had laid yet a third hundred dollar bill on the table to notice Dime watching him. When he did look up and see her staring, he decided to give her a show. He wanted Dime to know, just in case things ever got serious, that he could deliver her to ecstasy.
After Amp finished the private dance for the woman in red, he mingled with some other women throughout the club until it was closing time.
“Yo, Dime,” Amp called out as the DJ passed by him. He wanted to make sure he saw her before he left, but she kept strutting on by.
He rushed to catch up with her. “I need to settle up with you.” That stopped Dime in her tracks. Amp sensed that Dime had a slight attitude for some reason, but he chalked it up to it being the end of a long night.
“Here y
ou go.” Amp handed Dime some money. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” She looked down at the money, folded it, and then tucked it in her pocket. She looked up at Amp. Even if she had been a little salty with him, what woman in her right mind could stay mad at a face like that?
“Hey, you two,” Madam said as she walked up to them. Putting a hand on each of their shoulders, she said, “I was thinking we should have a drink to celebrate Mr. Black Magic.”
Amp visibly tensed up. “No, thanks. I’ve gotta get going.” He was not about to miss curfew, and he definitely didn’t want a drink.
“Suit yourself.” Madam shrugged.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” Amp said. “It’s just—”
She held up a hand to stop him. “No need to explain. But listen, I have a few more high-dollar friends coming this weekend to see my new star,” Madam told him. “Don’t let me down, okay?”
“I won’t,” he promised.
Chapter 18
Amp was walking on the outer edge of the parking lot toward his home. It was late, so there wasn’t a lot of traffic; just a car here and there rolling by. As Amp was about to cross the street, he looked up and saw the same dark-colored car with tinted windows that he’d seen outside Mr. Lam’s store the day after the robbery. Just as Amp was about to step off the curb, another vehicle pulled right up in front of him and stopped. Amp watched cautiously as the car window rolled down.
“Oh my! It’s Black Magic!” Dime squealed, throwing her hands up in the air.
Amp laughed with her, watching her overdramatic impression of an ecstatic fan. “Whatever. You pull over just to heckle me?”
“No, I was going to ask if you wanted a ride.”
Amp shrugged. “Why not?” Since she’d taken the time to pull over, it wouldn’t hurt to accept the offer. The halfway house was pretty close at this point, so it wasn’t likely that he’d be sending her out of her way.
As Amp was opening the door to climb in, he looked up and saw that the dark-colored car was no longer there. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It did seem a little peculiar that the same vehicle had been sort of lurking around—or maybe he was just being paranoid. Years of constantly watching his back was a tough habit to break. He shook it off, getting into Dime’s car, and the two took off down the street.
Moments later, Dime pulled into the driveway of the halfway house and put the car in park.
“So . . . you live here?” she asked Amp.
“Yep,” he answered, short and sweet. He knew she was just trying to make conversation, but he didn’t feel the need to go into details.
The way Dime sat there looking at Amp, it was obvious she expected him to continue, but that was not about to happen. Amp was a private person who minded his own business and expected folks to stay out of his just the same.
There was an awkward silence between them. Neither one was talking, yet Amp wasn’t hurrying out of the car. Though he’d spent only a little bit of time in her presence, there was something about this woman that Amp liked.
Finally Dime spoke. “I don’t know what’s still open. You hungry? Because I’m starving.” She obviously liked Amp’s company as well.
Amp checked his watch. It was 2:55 a.m., only five minutes before his curfew. Now, back in the joint there might have been occasions where he scarfed down a meal in five minutes, but it wouldn’t exactly make a good impression on Dime if he tried to do it tonight.
“Not really,” Amp replied to make a long story short—or more like to keep the long story to himself. In truth, he was pretty hungry after dancing and showing out for the past few hours . . . and he definitely wouldn’t have minded sharing a meal with Dime. “But if you’re around in the morning, we can grab a late breakfast.”
Besides, Amp thought, breakfast is a better first date, because everyone knows dinner always ends with dessert. He wanted to take his time with Dime. Something about her seemed special, and he wanted to treat her that way.
Dime nodded, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sounds good. What time?”
“Ten.”
“I’ll see you then.”
Amp opened the door. “Thanks again. Hope you didn’t have to go too far outta your way.”
“I stay ten minutes from here. No big deal. See you tomorrow.”
“All right.” Amp got out of the car and walked into the house as Dime drove away. He couldn’t wait until morning . . . for more reasons than one.
At ten on the dot the next morning, Dime was back at the house to scoop up Amp.
“Where to?” Amp asked Dime when he got into the car.
“What do you have a taste for?”
“I’m good with whatever,” Amp told her. “You’re the driver. You decide.”
Dime thought for a moment then said, “I know just the spot.” She put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. “But first things first.”
“What do you mean?” Amp asked.
“You’ll see. Trust me.”
“Trust you, huh?” Amp laughed.
“Yeah, trust me. You got a problem with trusting people . . . or just females?”
“Nope,” Amp was quick to say. “Got no problems trusting anybody who earns it.”
“Okay, I feel you on that.” Dime nodded.
Dime drove for about five more minutes before pulling up at a Bank of America.
“Here we are,” she said, turning off the ignition.
“Since when does B of A serve pancakes?”
“They don’t,” Dime said. “But you’re gonna need someplace to put all your money, because I can’t keep it every night, Mr. Stripper-man.” She smiled at him.
“I hear you. I hear you,” he said happily.
“Go ahead. I’ll wait out here while you go in and open an account.”
Amp nodded, opening the door. Before he stepped out, he said to Dime, “Good looking out.” Her thoughtfulness had definitely taken him by surprise. He was so used to being alone and on his own. It was refreshing to have someone looking out for him for a change.
Amp headed inside the bank. Fifteen minutes later, he returned and the two drove off to grab breakfast.
“Thanks for stopping by the bank so I could set up that savings account,” Amp said as he and Dime sat in the restaurant eating and talking. “I was getting a little nervous walking around with all that money.”
“I bet.” Dime took a bite of her pancakes.
“You should have seen their faces in that bank when I pulled out all them damn ones.”
Dime laughed, and Amp caught himself watching the way Dime’s lips spread into a perfect arch when she laughed. He looked away quickly. If she caught him staring at her, she might take things the wrong way. Yeah, shorty was a cutie, but Amp wasn’t trying to start anything serious right now.
Still, he couldn’t resist asking, “So how many of the dancers at Eden have asked you out?”
She finished a mouthful of food, looking up at the ceiling as if counting in her head. “All of them, pretty much—but I never went out with any of them. Like I told you, I don’t date dancers.”
“So, why me?” Amp set his fork down and leaned back against the seat to listen.
“Why you? This ain’t a date. This is just breakfast.”
Amp smiled, not sure if he should be offended or relieved. “Oh, okay.” He leaned back, picked his fork up, and resumed his meal.
Dime said, “If you don’t mind me asking, who else lives in that house?”
Knowing women and how curious they were about everything, Amp was willing to bet Dime had been wondering about that since dropping him off last night. Surely she didn’t expect that he lived alone in a house that size. Amp figured the real reason she was asking was to make sure a wife and kids weren’t waiting for him in that house. If she didn’t date dancers, then no doubt she wouldn’t date a married man either.
As she sat there waiting for a response, he decided to just go for it and te
ll her the truth. After all, they weren’t on a date, so it wasn’t like he had to try to impress her. If his truth turned her off, then so be it.
“It’s a long story,” Amp offered with a sigh. “Here’s the short version: I did a little time. Don’t ask me for what. That’s a halfway house that I live in. I’m on parole. That’s the only reason I started dancing. Need to get my money right so I can get a place and a car. Go back to college.” He gave her an I-have-told-you-all-that-I’m-going-to look and then quickly turned the table. “That’s my story. What’s yours?”
Amp discovered that he felt much better now that he’d told her the truth about his situation. He still had regrets that he had not told Mr. Lam sooner, and he did not want to make the same mistake again, especially with someone who might turn out to be a good friend . . . or more.
To Amp’s relief, she didn’t press him for any more details. She also didn’t hesitate to answer his question. “Well, I used to dance on the other side of Eden back when it had another owner. Needed money for school once my student aid ran out. I heard Madam was purchasing the building, and she had heard I was a good DJ. They needed a female DJ on the men’s side, so she hired me. It’s a perfect situation. I still make good money, and I get to keep my clothes on.”
Amp looked at her through squinted eyes. “Wait, how you gonna say you don’t date dancers and you used to strip?”
“I know what that life is all about,” she said. “I don’t want to have to deal with that.”
“I feel you.” Amp could only imagine all the emotions one has to go through when dating a dancer, foremost being jealousy.
Dime fell silent and picked at her pancakes with her fork, as if she’d lost her appetite.
“You’re all right,” Amp said. “I thought you were just some pretty chick that played records. Guess I was wrong.”
“And I thought you were just some muscle-bound pretty boy,” replied Dime. Amp could tell that calling her pretty did not go unnoticed, as he caught the smile she was trying to suppress.
Ladies Night Page 13