“I’m driving home after this.”
“Okay, I’ll drink. You can watch.”
“With smooth lines like that, you must be on your way to wife number three,” I blurted out, then slapped my hand over my lips. Oh my God! Did I just insult him?
He threw back his head and laughed. Then he slung an arm around my shoulders and led me to the final barstools. “Actually, I’m on wife number four.”
If I were him, I wouldn’t have willingly admitted that out loud.
“So, Harlow. Why do you want to be a stripper?”
“Well, it’s my lifelong dream,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest and batting my eyes.
“Uh-huh,” he said as the bartender set a drink in front of him. He picked it up and took a sip, studying me over the rim of the glass.
I sighed. “I need the money.”
He nodded. “Do you have experience?”
“Well, no. But I undress myself every day, and that seems to be the most important thing I need to know.”
He laughed again. “I like you.”
That probably wasn’t a good thing.
“Tell you what. You come in tomorrow night at seven. I’ll give you a trial run. If you can take it off like a pro, then the job is yours.”
“How much is the pay?” I asked.
“That depends.”
“On?”
“You and how good you work the crowd.”
Work the crowd?
“See you at seven tomorrow night,” Adam said, stood up, downed the entire contents of his glass, and then walked away.
Did I just get hired as a stripper?
Oh my God, I just got a job as a stripper. Well, assuming anyone wanted to see me half naked.
Speaking of, I turned and looked over my shoulder. The blond was still gyrating herself all over the place, now wearing nothing but a G-string. I’m sorry, but how did that not hurt? I mean, really, it was practically flossing her butt.
I spun back around and put my head in my hands. I felt the heavy thud of something in front of me, so I looked up.
It was a shot glass. I watched as the bartender filled it with vodka. “You look like you could use this.”
I looked up, a little higher than the glass, and caught a set of bronzed rock-solid abs. My eyes lingered and then traveled upward, past the rippling muscles, the smooth, defined chest, past the black bowtie around his neck to finally land on his face.
I understood now why his body was so mouthwatering.
A face like that could only be attached to near perfection. Square, smooth jawline, prominent nose and cheekbones, full lips, olive-toned, sun-kissed skin, and eyes that looked like melted chocolate. I couldn’t tell what color hair he had because he wore a black fedora that was slightly tilted to one side, giving him a devilish air.
If he were an all-you-can-eat buffet, I’d unbutton the top of my jeans and dig in.
I stared at him dumbly, my brain refusing to form a cohesive thought, so I knew speaking wasn’t going to happen.
He smiled, placing his hands palm down on the bar and leaning over the top slightly, bringing his manly goodness a little closer. “Bottoms up.”
“I’m not drinking tonight,” I said, proud that I found my voice.
His dark eyes swept over my face and he smiled. Then, still watching me, he picked up the shot glass and emptied it all into his mouth in one great gulp. He set it back down in front of me. “Most girls would have just taken the shot.”
“I’m not most girls.”
He leaned both elbows on the bar and stared at me. “So I see.”
A little shiver raced up my spine. It was one of those shivers that felt so delicious I just wanted to have another. The sound of his voice was like the roar of a lion, the growl of an alpha, because it churned up some primal instinct in me to obey his every command.
Man, this place was starting to make me crazy. I had to get out of here.
“Thanks for the drink,” I said, spinning the stool around and getting ready to hop off.
“So you’re the new dancer?”
I glanced over my shoulder, looking around the curtain of my chestnut-colored hair. “That depends.”
“On?”
“On whether or not I have the guts to show up tomorrow night.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Well, I sure hope you do.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I’m pretty sure my cheeks turned bright pink. He chuckled, the low sound carrying over every other sound in the place and echoing through the deepest parts of my mind.
Then he picked up the empty shot glass and turned around. “See ya around,” he said, tossing the words over his broad shoulder.
It wasn’t until I was outside fumbling around with my car keys that I wondered if he meant he actually wanted to see me again… or just the parts of me I dared to bare.
2
I talked myself out of going that night at least a hundred times. But then I would look at the bills piled on my counter, the dwindling supplies in my fridge and pantry and ask myself how bad could it really be?
It was only skin.
Skin that a lot of strangers’ eyes would be ogling.
I couldn’t do it.
I glanced at my cell phone lying on my bed. I could call her, tell her that I needed money. She would tell me to come home, to get a job at the local diner or the bank. And then I would haul my suitcases into my old bedroom and start my life over again as the girl who tried to get away but in the end couldn’t hack it.
Or…
I could pick out an outfit, go to work, and pretend that everyone else was in their undies instead of me.
I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.
It wasn’t the first time today I heard that line in the back of my head. Yeah, okay, it probably was just that. A line. But damn if it wasn’t working.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew I was an attractive woman, with long legs, a thin but curvy frame, long, deep-brown hair, and blue eyes. I looked exactly like the girl next door. In fact, I was the girl next door. Until I graduated high school determined to bust out of the small town I was stranded in.
I wasn’t going back there.
I was no longer the girl next door.
I was a woman.
I was in charge of my life and my body.
And I was also going to be a stripper.
I turned to the side to study the profile of my body. My boobs certainly weren’t huge (not like that stripper I saw on stage last night), but they were a decent size, and they were perky. I had a little bit of a booty as well, so I guess I could consider myself well equipped for the job.
Now all I needed was something to wear.
What did one wear when they were going to be taking it all off?
Something sexy, the voice in my head whispered.
I pulled open my closet and studied the contents. I had the clothes of a college student who happened to live in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. That wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts, blouses, and beach wear. It did not consist of lingerie, push-up bras, and thongs.
I glanced at the sundresses that hung in a row and laughed.
After the reaction I got to the one I wore last night, I doubted showing up to work in another one would go over very well. Adam would probably kick me out before I even opened my mouth.
I considered taking a pair of scissors to a shirt to make it midriff baring and to a skirt to make it sinfully short, but that seemed like a waste of perfectly nice clothes.
In the end, I yanked out my choice and threw it on, then went to do my hair, makeup, and smooth on some body lotion. My stomach growled during my primping, but I ignored it. I was so nervous about what I was about to do that I hadn’t eaten a thing all day. And I wasn’t going to. The last thing I wanted to do was get up on stage and show everyone exactly what I
had for lunch that day.
If I even made it onto the stage.
What the hell was I supposed to do once I was there?
Gyrate like that girl last night? No. Thank you. But I knew I had to do something. I mean, just standing there would get me fired.
I decided to just stop thinking about it altogether. I was making myself more nervous than I really needed to be, and if I kept it up, I wouldn’t go at all.
After I was ready, I stared at the clock until six and then locked up my apartment and drove to the Mad Hatter.
Just my luck, the place was packed.
I parked in the very back of the lot and sat there for a few minutes, feeling nervous sweat drip down my back. Before I could talk myself into peeling rubber out of the lot, I climbed out of the car and made my way to the entrance.
The door swung open and the bouncer from last night opened the door.
“Hey, Ty,” I said, giving him a smile.
“Miss Harlow, you came back.”
“You didn’t think I’d get the job?”
“Nah, girl, I knew you would get the job. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted it.”
Well, neither was I, but I didn’t say it out loud.
“Got any advice for me, Ty? I’m sure as the bouncer you know all the inside information and tricks.”
He grinned and regarded me with pursed lips. “Don’t be trashy.”
“Well, that might be hard considering I’m about to shake what my momma gave me.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I’ve seen a lot of girls come through here. Some of them are good and some of them aren’t. The ones who do the best are the ones who realize there is a fine line between sexy and sleazy. Catch my drift?”
I nodded slowly. “I think so. Kind of a less-is-more approach?”
“There you go,” he said, inclining his head. Then he held the door wide and stepped back. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I said and stepped inside.
The entire place was full. People standing around the bar, filling up the tables, and talking over the music. There was already a girl on stage. The pole that stood in the center was spotlighted in hot pink, and I watched as she wrapped her toned legs around it and then draped her body upside down. Her dark hair fell in a cascade and was so long it actually brushed the ground.
As I watched, she moved fluidly, sensually, sliding down the pole and then touching her body in a way that made everyone think touching her would be the most exciting moment of their entire life.
I averted my eyes because I was slightly embarrassed to be watching her turn people on.
“So you showed up,” called a voice from behind the bar.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, again.
And the hat he wore last night wasn’t on his head. He had blond hair. Very blond and so very messy that it looked like he spent time running his fingers through it all day long.
“Here I am,” I said, stepping a little closer to the bar.
“So,” he began, giving me a knowing grin. “On a scale from one to ten, how nervous are you?”
“Eleven.”
“Oh well, that’s better than twenty-five.”
“Ha,” I said, feeling my stomach do this weird flippy thing every time he smiled.
Adam stepped up beside me. “Come on, we need you backstage.”
That flippy feeling in my belly quickly turned to a nauseous rumble as he turned and walked toward the back, expecting me to follow.
“Hey,” the hot bartender said.
I glanced over my shoulder.
“Don’t screw up.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He was laughing when I walked away, weaving through the crowded tables and the boisterous laughter.
Backstage was quieter and I found I was able to let out the breath I held. The back room was lined with dressing tables, all with those big mirrors rimmed in lights. There were little velvet stools pushed under each table and makeup and cans of hairspray were scattered everywhere. In the back of the room, there were several racks of what looked like lingerie and a few mannequin heads lining a shelf that had various wigs in every style and color. High heels scattered the floor and there was a small ladies’ room off to the left with the light off.
There were several girls back here, all of them in various states of undress. It was clear no one used the bathroom as a dressing room. Of course when you were stripping down in front of a room full of people, I guess doing it in the back was considered sort of private.
“Ladies, this is Harlow,” Adam said in a voice that carried through the room. “She’s auditioning tonight. Show her the ropes.”
All eyes turned to me. I could feel them assessing me, judging me, deciding if they would like me before I even spoke a word. It was like being back in high school where all the girls were catty and cliquish.
I didn’t let people push me around in high school, and I wasn’t about to start now.
I lifted my chin and went to a dressing table that looked like it was never used. “Can I use this one?”
The girl next to me, a redhead with gigantic boobs, nodded.
I set down my bag and then looked around nervously for something to do. Adam approached; he was wearing a suit with no tie and a pair of sporty-looking dress shoes. In his hand he carried a clipboard that he hadn’t even looked at once since we’d been back here.
“You go on at seven. Your routine ends when your song ends. Be sure to tell the DJ what you want him to play.”
Oh, shit. I was supposed to have a song?
“After your routine, you can collect your money and then make your way back here. You can walk around in your outfit or change into something from back there.” He pointed at the racks of clothes. “Then go to the bar and get a tray. You can serve drinks until your next routine.”
My next routine? I swallowed. “How many routines do I do during a shift?”
“For now, one an hour. If you’re good, then that will increase.”
I didn’t even know how long a shift was. I was in way over my head here. Maybe I should just bail now and save myself the embarrassment of getting fired.
I opened my mouth to announce my departure, but Adam cut me off to yell, “Roxie! Get your ass over here!”
The dark-haired girl I’d just watched on stage appeared beside us. “Yeah, boss?”
“Show Harlow the ropes.”
Then he left, my eyes following him desperately. I felt like a child who was being dropped off at kindergarten for the very first time. Adam definitely wasn’t my parent or even a parental type, but at least when he was telling me what to do I didn’t feel so freaked out.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Roxie said. She had purple eyes and hair so dark it was almost black. She wore it sleek and straight and it hung all the way down to her hips. The heavy, straight bangs across her forehead accentuated the odd color of her eyes.
“Never,” I said, giving a nervous giggle.
She wore a tiny pair of boy shorts and a glittery corset that pushed her chest up to her neck. Her skin was creamy and pale and she was curvy in all the right places.
“The first time is always the worst. After a while, it’ll be like brushing your teeth. You won’t even think about it.”
I couldn’t imagine getting naked in front of a bunch of drunk and slurring idiots would ever get any easier, but I didn’t bother to disagree with her.
“Do you wear contacts?” I asked, totally distracted by those purple eyes.
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’m Roxie,” she said, holding out her hand.
I shook it. “Harlow.”
“You gonna use your real name on stage?”
I hadn’t thought about it. I guessed I probably shouldn’t. “I don’t think so.”
“Got a stage name in mind?”
“No. And I don’t have a song either.”
“Adam never tells any of the new girls they need a song. He’s such a man, I swear.
He probably doesn’t even know music plays around here. All he cares about is making money.”
I couldn’t really fault him for that. I mean, hello, it’s the reason I was here.
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