by Marci Fawn
She impatiently shoves a wayward strand of dyed red hair behind her ear. I get it. These women have people asking after them all the time, and it’s the duty of the staff to ensure that no one gets close. One of the biggest dangers in this profession is odd characters becoming obsessed. That’s the sort of thing that causes bad shit to happen.
Just as I open my mouth, to try and say anything to make it better, Cherie speaks out again.
“Crystal!” She sounds excited that she’s finally nailed it. “Her dancer name is Crystal.”
“I…” The waitress glances around, starting to look uncomfortable. “I can tell you when she’s in work next…” She starts to say something else before clearly thinking better of it. “I…um…I’ll just go check.”
She suddenly scuttles off behind the bar, hopefully to consult a work schedule.
“I guess she can’t…” I lean in towards Cherie, wanting to reassure her.
“She can,” she says, interrupting me. “She could if she really wanted to. She knows that Bridgette is in trouble, and she knows that she should tell me what she knows. Something is holding her back.”
“Maybe because she isn’t too sure you are who you say you are?” I don’t know why I’m defending this woman; I just need Cherie to calm down. She might be sitting here rather quietly, simmering away in her anger... But she has this burning energy surrounding her, and I’m concerned she’ll explode.
“I can’t do this,” she says before abruptly standing up. She storms over to the bar, and I know I need to stop her before she does something really stupid.
Before I reach her, I see one of the dancers making their way over to her and quickly whispering something in her ear. Whatever she says, it’s clearly nothing to do with business. Her words stop Cherie dead on the spot.
For some reason, this makes me freeze, too. She’s discovered something; I just know it.
I just don’t know what.
I wait, my shoulders tense as I see her turn back to face me. It’s like the action is happening in slow motion, and that’s killing me. I live life in the fast lane—
Always have done, always will—and I need to know now.
Her bright blue eyes are shiny and panicked. Her lips are pulled inwards, pursed into a strained expression. She’s wringing her hands, tugging on her fingers, clearly stressed as hell.
I want to rush to her side. I want to pull her in towards my body. After what feels like forever, she slowly lifts up two of her fingers, indicating two minutes.
I want to shake my head, to tell her not to go anywhere without me. Time speeds up once more and she’s whipped away from my sight.
Not sure what else to do, I continue my walk over to the bar. I notice my swagger has already become more of a stagger. If Cherie is about to find out that her sister is dead, then she’s going to collapse. I may have only met this girl last night, but I don’t think I can see her fall apart. It’ll tear at my heart.
Until now, I didn’t even know I had a heart.
“Whiskey,” I manage to blurt out to the bartender.
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” The tall, leggy brunette throws an exaggerated wink my way.
Normally, I’d want to flirt back, just to be polite, but I can’t even muster up a half-smile.
The drink slides across the bar in my direction, and I shove my hand into my pocket. I'm desperately trying to find some change to pay for this drink. In all the chaos, I’d forgotten how broke I was.
“This one’s on the house.” The brunette smiles at me again as she watches me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, finally forcing a weak half-smile back at her.
“So…” She leans on the bar, pursing her red lips towards me, forcing my attention on her. She squashes her arms together, trying to make her cleavage more bountiful and attractive. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing in a place like this so early in the morning?”
Now that she’s closer to me, she’s using a huskier voice; one that clearly works on other guys the rest of the time. I can’t even feel a stirring in my pants, though. I’m much too worried, too distracted, too focused on another girl. Cherie.
It’s fucking weird; I’ve never been this way about anyone before. I still don’t even know what to do about it.
“I’m just…” I’m about to quickly shoot the brunette down when it hits me. I might be able to use this girl to get some information. I know Cherie is off speaking to someone else, but having multiple opinions can’t hurt. In a world like this, you never know who you can and can’t trust.
I lean in, almost close enough that I could press my lips against hers in a second.
“I’m just wondering where Crystal is,” I say, arching one eyebrow.
My plan is to go with jealousy. The bigger the reaction I can get out of her, the more she’s likely to spill.
“Crystal?” She pulls back, indignant. “God, it’s always about Crystal!”
I can’t believe how quickly it’s worked. I was expecting a much bigger fight. I thought she’d at least attempt to play it cool at first.
“She has a boyfriend, you know,” the girl continues.
“Yeah?” I take a slow sip of my drink. I'm trying to remember the name of the guy that Cherie mentioned when she told me about Bridgette. “The same guy as before? Brian?”
She looks confused for a second before realization crosses her face. “Oh, you mean Hunter? Ugh! No.” She picks up a rag and starts wiping it over the dirty bar. Clearly I’ve gone a step too far and shown too much interest in another girl. Luckily my end game has nothing to do with getting this girl into bed, so I’m not really bothered by her reaction. “No, she’s with Lucas now. One of the bouncers that works here.”
I hear her answer, but I barely take it in because I can see Cherie making her way back over to me. Her face is pale, but also relieved. I can now see that she was well aware that her sister could have turned up dead. Thank fuck she hasn’t—but that doesn’t necessarily mean that all is well in the world. Cherie looks very aware of that fact.
Before I’ve even realized that I’m moving, I’m by her side, touching her arm. She looks unsteady on her feet, so I lower her into the nearest seat.
“She…Hunter…I don’t…”
“I know,” I say before she puts herself out trying to explain this to me.
She stares at me, confused for a second, before choosing not to question me further. I’m a guy that always gets what he wants. At least she can see that now.
She sucks in a couple of deep breaths before snatching the tumbler of whiskey from my hand. She gulps down a decent-sized mouthful. She pulls a face as the warm liquid slides down her throat. The girl manages to keep it down, which is impressive for someone who’s not legally allowed to drink yet.
“Hunter doesn’t bother her anymore.” Her voice is monotonous as she says this. I can tell that she’s forcing her emotions to remain inside, all bottled up. “But to find out everything, I need to speak to the club owner.”
“Okay…” I roll this word off of my tongue. Strip club owners are notoriously hard to get hold of.
I need to think of a plan. What the fuck can we do now? How can I solve this?
“I know what we have to do,” Cherie says, her expression stern. “I need to audition.”
“Audition?” Clearly I’m still shaken up from everything that happened this morning. It takes me a while to catch on to what she means.
“Yes.” She stares straight into my eyes, determination and trepidation plastered over her face. “As a dancer.”
Holy fuck.
11
Axel
I tap my foot repeatedly against the floor as I watch Cherie work her magic on the shift manager. She’s turned on a charm that I haven’t seen from her yet. Even though I can’t hear anything that’s being said, I can see that it’s working.
The skinny metrosexual man casts a lingering look up and down her body. It instantly sends a fiery rage throughout my body.
Doesn’t he know that I claimed her last night when I put my hands on her like she begged for? How dare he?
I squeeze my fists tightly together. I'm holding them close to my sides as I suck in some deep breaths to calm myself down. Now is not the time for me to lose my shit. If I’ve ever needed to keep it together, now is the time. This isn’t about me, it’s about Cherie, and it’s about Bridgette.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, trying to avert my eyes. If I can look away, I might just be able to keep a hold of myself.
The brunette bar tender who was flirting with me earlier approaches me with a question. “Another drink?” she asks. She still sounds a little pissed, but I really don’t give a shit.
“Whiskey,” I snap at her. Even though I know she wants me to look at her, I still can’t drag my eyes away from the scene that’s unfolding in front of me. I know that I should at least make eye contact if I want another free drink, but I just can’t. It’s like my view is glued in one place—Cherie—and that’s the end of it.
“Yeah okay, coming right up.” Gone are all the niceties, which certainly doesn’t bode well for my freebie.
The next second, I hear the glass slammed down on the table, and that’s the only sound that can grab my attention. But as I turn, all I see is the brunette’s ass shaking away from me.
I spin back to see Cherie throwing her bag on the nearest chair and shaking off her jacket. My heartbeat kicks up a notch. Something is happening, and being out of control is fucking killing me. I’m usually the center of all plans, the one who lays down the groundwork. I don’t like relying on anyone else.
Cherie’s hands find their way to her hips, and she holds them there determinedly. She moves her neck from side to side, as if she’s gearing herself up for something, and that’s when it hits me. She’s about to dance. Here. On the stage. Right in front of all these people.
In front of me.
Oh, shit…
I shift in my seat, throwing the drink down my throat quickly. I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t think they did it this way. I glance around the room, noticing that there are only a couple of other guys here, so I guess it won’t even matter if Cherie performs terribly.
Not that I think she will.
I know she’s innocent and sweet, but the way that she reacted to me last night was hot as hell. She might be cute, but there’s a sensual side of her; one that could really make this work.
She steps up onto the stage, looking much more confident than I imagine she feels. I tap my fingers on the table, unsure of how I’m feeling.
Then the beat starts.
A random R&B tune blasts out of the stereo and I can see Cherie zoning in her focus. She begins by lightly shaking her hips from side to side, and I’m instantly mesmerized. Nothing else even matters—the other guys, the bartender, even Bridgette. It all just vanishes from my mind as if the entire world has shrunk to just me and her.
Cherie’s shyness melts away. Her hands start to travel up her body in sensual glides before running through her hair. The innocent air she usually carries around her slips away, and she becomes a sexy temptress. A Venus, a fucking goddess. Honestly, she takes my goddamned breath away.
Her entire body begins to move in time with the music, and her tongue runs lightly along her lips. I shift forward in my seat, clutching hard onto the whiskey glass. This is officially the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I may have been to more than my fair share of strip clubs, but none of the girls have ever gotten me this fucking hard so fast. I’m straining painfully against my jeans. All I can think about is grabbing her, throwing her to the floor, and pushing my length inside of her tight pussy.
I don’t know if it’s better or worse for my imagination that I know exactly what she feels like. Exactly what she’ll feel like when I finally do fuck her….
I remember the orgasm rocking her body against my hand last night. I recall the tremble that raced through her as she fell apart against me. It was such a powerful, earth-shattering moment. I almost wonder if that’s the first orgasm she’s ever had.
I’m not used to that. The girls I’ve been with have experienced their sexuality and know what they want. That makes some of them too bossy for my taste, but I’m always fully aware it’s never going to be permanent. Even if we do fuck more than once, that’s all it’ll ever be.
I’m not exactly the settling down type, but fuck, Cherie is making me question that right about now.
Cherie’s fingers deftly play at the hem of her T-shirt. She’s going to tug it off at any second, but she’s just teasing everyone first. I take a second to glance around and quickly see that she has the attention of every damn person in the joint. It isn’t just me that sees her mesmerizing qualities. She’s fucking amazing, and now everyone knows it.
The brunette catches my eye and flashes me a knowing wink as if to say, ‘I get it now’. I gulp down the raging jealousy that’s pouring through me and turn back to watch Cherie.
Her top is now being casually tossed to the side as she moves effortlessly. Her feet glide across the stage towards a pole.
Oh God, no…
I don’t know if I can handle this anymore. My body is screaming at me to get up and pull her down; to stop her from showing too much of herself to the world.
Because that body of hers is for my eyes only. I want to take her in my arms and lay her on the floor before fucking her brains out. I want to stake my claim and make her mine.
But I can’t. Not yet.
I can’t.
I need to keep telling myself that.
She glides her leg around the pole and starts to swing her body around it. Desire fills her expression as she catches my eye for a split-second, and that actually calms me down a bit. I don’t have to think like the arrogant prick I normally am to know that she’s thinking about me. I can just tell.
I slide back, swinging my arm casually over the back of my chair, and a smug smile plays on my lips. If she’s thinking about me, it means that she still wants me, despite everything. If she wants me, I’m gonna let her have me. I might even surprise her and be gentle.
Probably not, though. I doubt I’ll be able to control myself that much.
My buoyancy and stiff erection only last for a few moments. The second I actually start to enjoy myself, the universe seems to have another plan. Just as Cherie is shaking off her trousers, the metrosexual man indicates for her to leave the stage.
Fuck!
I almost cry out in anger. Why the fucking hell is that ass wipe stopping her now? He sure as shit can’t say that she was bad. She was beyond amazing.
That’s when I see them walking off together. Cherie has only had enough time to pull her top back on, so her long, sexy legs are still bare. I quickly realize exactly what’s happening and it damn near kills me.
They are going to the owner’s office.
My heart stops dead in my chest. I know this is what we wanted, and this is what the plan was all about, so why do I feel so fucking shitty about it all?
12
Cherie
Oh my God.
My heart is absolutely pounding and my mouth has run dry. I’m trying to walk confidently despite the fact that I’m still half naked. I think it’s obvious that I’m shaking.
I don’t know what I’m more afraid of; meeting the club’s owner, or finding out more about Bridgette. From the brief bits that Karma told me, I’m not sure how much more I want to know.
Of course, I know that I have to know. If I don’t find out the truth, then I risk losing my sister forever. I just don’t know how deep this all goes. The last time I got myself involved in Bridgette’s affairs, I nearly got raped.
Feeling vulnerable all over again, I try to tug my T-shirt down as far as it’ll go. The surprisingly posh doors to the club owner’s office swings open. This entire room is completely contradictory to the rest of the place, which looks like crap.
“I have another one for you,” the shift manager announces in an o
verly-dramatic way.
I step out from behind him, wanting to seem much more confident than I really feel. I don’t want him to immediately see my weaknesses and pounce upon them.
The man I presume is the owner sits in a luxurious leather chair behind a solid mahogany desk. He shoots a terrifyingly wolfish grin my way. “Please, come in and sit down.”
He indicates toward a much smaller chair, located on the other side of the desk. It’s clearly designed in a way that makes him look like the more powerful person in every single meeting he has.
My steely resolve deserts me as I scuttle over to the chair like a scared little mouse.
“So…” he continues in the syrupy voice that I imagine usually gets him everything he wants. He has caramel-colored skin and dark brooding eyes which match his hair perfectly. It makes him one of the most charismatic men I’ve ever had the pleasure of sitting in front of. “You want to work here?”
He stands up, pacing the room slightly, and I’m sure this is just to show me his expensive tailored suit.
He’s a man of power; that much is clear. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was really powerful, like a mobster or something. I gulp down the fear that’s racing through my veins, threatening to come out as vomit at any given moment.
Oh God, Bridgette. What the hell have you gotten yourself involved in?
I need to channel the sexy, confident stripper that I just managed to portray up on the stage. That girl would be able to take this guy down with a few scathing words, but she seems to have deserted me.
How the hell did I become her? I guess it was because I was thinking about Axel; about his hands and his cock. Oh, that cock…
I might not have managed to get fully acquainted with his cock. I’d seen it throbbing in all its glory though and I imagined it filling me up... I was picturing the orgasm he gave me with his fingers last night, intensified tenfold. That’s what I thought sex with him would be like.