“I wasn’t,” she grinned. “Justine called in sick and Miranda won’t be here until late, so I just filled in the gap.” She turned back to the other girls with her hands on her wiggling hips. “And I’m looking like this week’s contender for the most tips.”
The girls fired back at her, laughing and shouting back their challenges. Mairead laughed with them. “You bitches haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Mairead.”
She turned back and he could see the surprise in her face at his raised voice.
His eyes bore into her. “I am trying to talk to you. Forget the girls and focus on me.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked at him curiously. “We were just mucking around.”
“You’re here to work, not to muck around, and your work does not include near naked solo acts on the stage.”
“But we are down two girls,” she insisted firmly. “And the audience was expecting a strip number, and so I compromised a little with this outfit, but I certainly didn’t strip.”
“They didn’t need you to strip. There wasn’t much they couldn’t see, and they obviously saw a lot more when they were stuffing money into your thong. I can’t believe you allowed them to do that.”
“I didn’t.” Mairead stared at him incredulously. “You’ve got it wrong…”
“The rule is stage tips only, and even if it wasn’t, I’d like to think you would have a little more decency than to allow men to put their hands all over you, after they’ve just ogled you up on stage. You might have forgotten that you’re married now.”
“I haven’t...”
“Get out of that costume and stick to your job.”
He was suddenly aware that the room had gone silent. As he turned to leave, Mairead suddenly had hold of his arm as he opened the door.
“You’re not listening to me,” she told him angrily.
“I’ve said what I had to say.” He glared at her. “And I have no interest in hearing your excuses. Just do what you’re paid to do.”
He strode out, slamming the door after him, and was halfway down the hall, before the door came flying open.
“And what is that, James?” she yelled after him bitterly. “I thought it was keeping your fucking show on track, so that you can sit on your arse and pretend that you’re doing the hard work. Arrogant prick.”
Her scathing attack ended with her slamming the door. James spun back and strode back with a compulsion, ready to burst in and drag her out, but he stopped just short of the door. Stepping back, he leant against the wall and shook his head, feeling the rigid tension in his body. He breathed deeply, desperate to let go of his anger.
Mairead rarely got angry, but when she did, it was usually for a good reason. James had to acknowledge that he had handled the situation badly. She could hardly be blamed for the comments of misogynist men she knew nothing about. The silence emanating from the dressing room was a shameful reminder that he had given in to his bad mood. She had been so happy when he had first walked in, before he had ruined it.
“I’m sorry, Mairead,” he whispered to the empty hall. He smirked. “I am an arrogant prick.”
As much as he wanted to talk to her, Mairead would also need time to calm down. No doubt, her girls would be all around her, consoling her and ready to stand up for her at any cost. They loved her as much as they respected him as their boss, but if it came down to it, they would fiercely put their jobs on the line for her.
James headed to his office, reminding himself that he had chosen this life for himself and brought Mairead into it. Now, he was the owner of a strip club, with an extraordinarily beautiful wife who happened to be an exceptionally brilliant pole dancer.
After several minutes of trying to do paperwork, he shoved it aside. In over three months of marriage, they hadn’t argued at all and Mairead had eagerly encouraged his authority over her. It came with a responsibility to be fair and respond wisely. Tonight, he had failed her and needed to remedy it fast.
Getting up, he took a deep breath and began the slow walk back to the dressing room. His knock was quieter and he paused longer before he entered. A quick sweep of his eyes around the room told him Mairead was gone, leaving him with several nervous and displeased women who were glaring at him.
He was about to speak, when one of the girls stepped forward. Tina was younger and shorter than the others, but showed no fear in fronting up to him with an angry face.
“Boss, you got it wrong. When Mairead came back here, we were just having fun with her and it was us that put the tips in her costumes, not the audience. None of us break the rules, and especially not Mairead, not that she would ever let someone touch her, other than you, and she looked just fine in that costume. It was more revealing than usual and we know what you were fucked off about it, but Mairead didn’t mean any harm. She was just trying to keep the show moving and take the pressure off us. It wouldn’t have even crossed her mind that she was doing anything that would upset you.”
James nodded. “I know. I fucked up and I came to apologise. I had no business jumping to conclusions, and I am truly sorry for the way I behaved.”
Tina sighed with relief. “Phew, I’m glad that’s over. Those bitches voted me to be the big mouth. It’s all good, boss. We know you get a bit crazy when it comes to Mairead.”
“It will be strictly professional from now on,” he assured her with a grin. “Any idea where she is?”
* * * * *
It was warm outside, but Mairead was still trembling from her confrontation with James. Pulling her robe around her tighter, she hugged her legs, sitting atop the skip bin that resided out of sight, in its own adjoining vestibule.
She knew it wouldn’t be long before James found her and part of her wanted him to, rather than have to deal with the guilt of having been so disrespectful to him, and especially in front of the girls. Worse was knowing that they were at odds with each other, when everything had been so perfect.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels on the concrete. Mairead sat up and listened, anxiously aware that someone was only a few feet away. Climbing down slowly, Mairead stepped silently to the corner and peered around.
A girl was leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette. She looked stunning in a red shimmery short dress and matching heels. Her breathing was stuttered as if she’d been crying.
“Hey.” Mairead stepped out cautiously. “Are you alright?”
The girl startled and stumbled back as she straightened up, swiping at her face and her eyes wide with fear.
“It’s alright,” Mairead quickly assured her as she moved into the light. “I’m on my own. I’m just one of the dancers here.”
The girl continued to stare, drawing on her cigarette.
“I saw you,” she remarked with a thick accent. “You were very good.”
“Thank you,” Mairead smiled.
“You looked convincing, like you were enjoying yourself.”
“I was. I love what I do.”
The girl frowned. “You like men to stare at your body?”
“No,” Mairead replied firmly. “I like to dance and entertain my audience.”
“Yeah,” she said cynically. “It’s all about the entertainment. So what are you doing out here, hiding in shadows?”
“Avoiding a man and feeling sorry for myself.”
The girl laughed. “I am doing this also.”
“They say that misery loves company. I’m Mairead, by the way.”
The girl repeated her name curiously. “I have not heard this name before.”
“It’s Irish,” Mairead told her. “But I’m a Kiwi.”
“I’m Ukrainian, but I think my name is from Germany. I’ve never really liked it, but my mother named me. I didn’t get a choice.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Greta,” she replied quietly. “Or it used to be, once.”
“That’s pretty.” Mairead studied her curiously. “So are you here on holiday, Greta?�
�
“No.” A strange look came over her face. “I came here two years ago to study Maori culture.”
“I was tempted to ask,” Mairead grinned.
Greta laughed quietly. “That’s right… a Ukrainian with a German name and a Maori father I never knew. I wasn’t sure where I fit into the world, but I soon learned that it doesn’t take much to be despised… a name, a skin colour or just being a woman.”
“I think that’s the same the world over,” Mairead commented. “But there’s a lot of nice people too.”
“Not many,” Greta replied, flicking her cigarette away. “I have to go back in.”
She went to walk back down the alley but startled as the side door opened. Mairead winced as James came out. He stopped and seemed surprised to see Greta.
“Hello again.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I have to get back in. Can I get in that way?”
“Sure.” He held the door for her. “Just round to the left and through the double doors.”
He was about to follow her, when he saw Mairead. His face softened with a smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Mairead nodded. “I needed some air.”
“You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” he chided her gently. “But I know this is where you usually go, when you’re mad at me.”
She looked up at him. “I’m not. I’m ashamed and mad at myself. I’m so sorry, James.”
“Yes, me too.”
Mairead bowed her head. “The way I spoke to you…”
“Was entirely my fault,” he told her. “I worked you up to that anger and you bit back.”
“I said terrible things and I didn’t mean a word of them.”
James went to her and gathered her into his arms. “You gave me a mouthful because I deserved it. The girls gave me a right telling off and explained about the money in your costume, not that I should have thought the wrong thing in the first place.”
She shook her head against his chest and pulled away. “No. I embarrassed you in front of everyone. It was awful and I hate myself for doing that.”
“Mairead.” He bent down to look into her face, lifting her chin. “I’d already embarrassed myself by being a jerk. Maybe we both went about things the wrong way, but it was my fault and you are certainly not allowed to hate yourself.”
She looked up at him curiously. “Are you telling me that you’re going to let me get away with answering you back like that?”
“Hell no,” he grinned. “Your bottom has an appointment with my belt when we get home, followed up by some very rough sex to really teach you a lesson.”
Mairead giggled. “That sounds fair.”
“No more guilt,” he told her sternly. Glancing back at the door he asked, “What was that girl doing out here?”
“Crying, smoking and avoiding a man apparently.”
“Probably the arsehole she was with. I had a run in with him in the club.” He frowned and looked down at Mairead. “Did she tell you her name?”
Mairead nodded. “Greta.”
“Greta?”
“Yes, she said it was German, but she was from Ukraine.”
James frowned. “I must be hearing things.”
“Why? What did you think it was?”
He smiled at her. “It doesn’t matter. Now shouldn’t you be getting ready to go on again soon?”
Mairead nodded. “After I’ve changed my costume.”
“You don’t have to,” he told her, stroking her hair tenderly.
“Yeah, I do.”
He lifted her up and pressed her against the wall with his body. Her legs gripped his hips as he cupped her bottom. Placing a soft kiss on her mouth, he grinned. “All you have to do is be my beautiful wife and forgive me when I act like a jealous idiot.”
Mairead giggled. “I was a little scared you were going to come back in and give me a spanking in front of the girls.”
“Now would I do that?” He peered menacingly at her and squeezed her buttocks. “Just because this bottom is so bare and begging for discipline?”
She swallowed nervously and blushed with arousal. “I do have an act left, James. I rather not do it with a red bum.”
Letting her down, he turned her to the door and swatted her forward. “Then hurry up, before I change my mind.”
Mairead took off giggling. An hour later, James looked up to the stage as the lights flashed across the audience announcing the act that Mairead did with Tina and Miranda. She was back in a less revealing costume. His guilt was still there, but it didn’t compare to the relief he felt.
* * * * *
It was after two in the morning when Jessica left the club, having had one of the best nights in years. A great show and many drinks had warmed her up to the place, and even to the people she had been there to hate.
Mairead had been sensational, and she was even prettier than her pictures. Her stunts on the pole were amazing and there was nothing trashy about any of the acts. Yeah, the other girls all stripped down to thongs and flashed their naked tits about, but they all were gifted in pole-dancing. Jessica had no idea it could be so classy and entertaining.
At midnight, she had watched that sexy James Vaughn sweep Mairead into his arms and kiss her, welcoming the New Year in. It was mesmerising observing them, seeing the passion in their kiss or holding hands or having their arms around each other while they laughed and partied with their guests.
The tall blonde, Vanessa, was obviously a lesbian, having shared a passionate New Year’s kiss with a beautiful dark-haired girl, sitting on her lap. It had only made Jessica realise how much she was alone.
She had no money left, not even for a taxi, but it was a glorious night for a walk, warm with a starry sky.
Jessica threw her arms up. “Happy New Year, Wellington.”
Some of the people on the street shouted back at her and she giggled, happy to be part of the party atmosphere everywhere.
“Happy New Year, pretty lady.”
The accent had Jessica looking about until she saw the man who had spoken to her. He was blonde, tall and broad, well dressed and incredibly good looking.
She frowned at him. “Are you talking to me?”
“I most certainly am.” His eyes wandered over her body appreciatively. “Where do we go to party now?”
Jessica sauntered up to him and gave him a saucy grin. “I don’t know you and you’ve got a funny accent.”
“It’s Russian,” he grinned. “And you know what they say about Russian men.”
“No, what?”
“Russian men are the best lovers in the world.”
“That’s Frenchmen.”
“Bah,” he growled. “Frenchmen don’t have the equipment us Russians have. I’m new in this town. Perhaps you will show me where to go and let me buy you a drink.”
Jessica looked him up and down. “And are Russian men good kissers too?”
He smiled. “Let me show you.”
She allowed him to take her into his strong arms and his lips softly met hers in small pecks until she was opening her mouth to him. His tongue gently invaded hers, as he held her against a hard body. It wasn’t long before she was wanting more than a kiss.
“What’s your name?”
“Yuri,” he replied.
“Yuri. I like that. So, Yuri, I got booze at home. We could always have a party there. Do you have a car?”
“I do,” he said, stepping aside and indicating a limousine parked down the road.
Jessica gasped. “Is that yours?”
“It is, and there’s champagne inside.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
He offered her his arm and Jessica grabbed it. Upon reaching the car, she could clearly see their reflection in the heavily tinted windows. Her mascara was smudged and her perspiration had taken off some of the heavily applied make-up she’d used to cover her scar.
Her straw blonde hair was greasy and lifeless and she had the glazed, gri
nning expression of intoxication. Jessica knew he wasn’t after romance. He obviously wanted a quick fuck and didn’t want to pay for one, but she was certainly up for it and it would be a free ride home.
Yuri pulled her around and backed her against the car, kissing her shoulders and neck as his hand wandered over her bottom. The other opened the car door. Jessica felt her body come to life.
“Let’s take this inside,” he whispered.
As she climbed in, she saw two hulking men inside, one bearded and bald and the other sporting a goatee.
“Hey…” Her words were cut short as the bearded man grabbed her and pulled her down to the floor in front of him. Her eyes widened in terror as he held a switchblade to her face.
Yuri got in with them and the door was shut. He leaned over, looking down at her. “Now you ugly cunt, what exactly is this evidence that Barry Underhill has on Adele Easton?”
Jessica knew to co-operate. “It’s a recording of their conversation. I have it on a USB at my flat. It’s yours, just don’t hurt me.”
“Is that all there is?”
“Yes, I swear, please…”
“Alright, we’ll go have a look.”
Jessica whimpered out her address, but he cut her off.
“I already know where you live. I know everything about you. We’ve even watched you ramming that big fucking dildo up your cunt every day.”
She felt sick. “What… how would you…?”
“People are so stupid,” Yuri chuckled. “You shouldn’t watch porn on your laptop when you’re fucking yourself, Jessica, or at least cover your webcam first.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.” She attempted to sound angry. “If Barry finds out…”
“Barry is dead. As of five o’clock this afternoon, your boyfriend met with a terrible accident in the shower.”
Jessica shook her head. “He wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he was. I want to know where you’re hiding this evidence. We’ve already tossed the hovel you live in and haven’t found it.”
“Go to hell,” she sobbed.
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