by JL Mac
“Floor routine,” I order nonchalantly. The second song begins winding down and she gets to it. She rolls from her back to her stomach and back again with her legs fanning out, opening and shutting, teasing at what’s concealed by that little triangle. The song comes to an end and the short pause between tracks gives her an opportunity to get to her feet. A wicked little smile graces her lips as the third song begins. The opening baseline hums, the beat pulses in time with the blood throbbing through my cock. Abigail continues with the floor routine for a bit then does a backward roll, successfully planting her ass on the edge of the stage. Her heels land silently on the carpeted floor. She gets to her feet deliciously slow. Her back is to me and she rolls her head, sending the length of her hair dancing all over her back. I take the opportunity to adjust myself before she turns to face me again. Her chin dips, causing her hair to fall forward, cloaking her enchanting features. I’m so caught up in her skillful allure that I don’t realize what she’s doing until she makes it a few feet from me. Once she’s close, her gaze lifts to mine and pure sex appeal burns brightly behind those eyes. She comes to a stop in front of me and falls to her knees. My eyes lower as she looks up at me questioningly waiting to see if I will stop her. I should but I won’t. I can’t. Fuck. I didn’t ask for a lap dance but she’s going to give it. Her delicate hands go to my knees. She slips her hands halfway up my thighs and she nudges them wider. Harmonizing her body with the music she gets to her feet between my thighs and begins gliding her hands over her own body. Her tits, her ass, her hips… I’ve done my fair share of bluffing in my life but this woman is testing my limits. It’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to slam her to the ground and claim her body. I’m no fool. She knows exactly what she’s doing and she’s doing a damn fine job. That only makes me more suspicious of her. She turns in place and undulates her body with fluidity telling of hard earned flexibility, and muscle tone.
She turns again to face me, her gaze seemingly lit from within. She runs her hands up over my thighs then up my torso to my shoulders. Her hands squeeze my shoulders and the hungry part of me wonders how her nails would feel against my back. She leans in and plants one knee on the couch on either side of my hips and hovers above me, rolling her body like a snake. It fucking suits.
The snake that slithered into Eden…
Her lips are parted and she plays her body over mine like an instrument. Her notes vibrating through me, a siren song beckoning me closer, deeper. Her hands dance up my arms, up my neck, sending a chill racing over my skin. She grips my jaw in her hands forcing me to look at her. Lust burns in her eyes and I can smell it on her. I’d bet my bank account that her sweet pussy is dripping wet and she did it to herself. My mind wanders off thinking of just how wet she’d be if I were the one doing all the seduction right now.
Fucking hell.
As if reading my mind, she settles down a little further in my lap and rocks her hips against mine. I know she feels my cock. Her eyes grow heavy with what looks like intense desire. The air between us grows thicker with lust and need that has my mind clouding. She leans forward, bringing her breasts closer, I inhale deeply, savoring every rich detail of her scent. Her fingers trace over my chest as the song plays out. She leans closer still, her breathing labored, her body radiating heat, her mouth so close to mine I could move forward the tiniest bit and taste her lips.
I grip her hips as hard as I can and tug her as close to me as humanly possible. “Song’s over,” I whisper, then release my grip. She lingers a moment longer in my lap, testing me. She can challenge me all she likes. I’m not biting. Yet.
Abigail nods and slips off my lap. Once she pulls her robe back on she approaches me on the couch.
“So? Am I hired?”
“Dancing is really what you want to do with your free time?”
“Pays the bills.”
“And what if a more lucrative opportunity arises?”
“Then I’d be a fool to not check it out.”
“Smart girl,” I say with a grin playing at the edges of my lips. “Congratulations. You’re Eden’s newest call-girl.” It’s a bit of a gamble considering she very well could be a cop but no crime will be committed. Nothing that would stick anyway.
“I’m sorry?”
“Call girl. Escort. Expensive prostitute. Whore. Hook—”
“No. I want to dance.” She declares defiantly.
“Don’t need any dancers right now. Could use a new escort though. That’s the job. The only job I’m offering. You’ll make just as much if not more than any of our top dancers and you’ll have to work less.”
“I—”
“Look, Ms. Tally, do you want the job or not?” I feign impatience and exasperation like she’s wasting my precious time. Truth is, what I need most at the moment is to get off or stand in a cold shower until the desire for this woman ebbs. She clenches her jaw, looks to the side in thought and bites the inside of her cheek for a beat before setting her shoulders and looking me right in the eyes.
“Fine. Yes. Yes, I’ll take it but I’ve never done it before so—”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that.”
Not in the slightest.
“You seem skillful enough to figure it out and what help you may need you can get from Mercedes.” She’s a siren, but with that confused wrinkle between her brows she’s… cute.
“I’ll have her call you. Also, you’ll have to complete the physical before you can take any clients and I’ll need a copy of your birth certificate and social security card.”
“Oh.” I love the glimmer of surprise hidden there in her eyes. She doesn’t have those documents because she didn’t buy them from Slip.
What shall you do now, Abigail Tally?
I can feel an evil smile threatening to surface and have to force it back.
“Okay, I’ll have to find those for you and as far as the doctor goes, should I just go to my doctor or…”
“No, of course not. You’ll see my doctor. Only one I trust,” I whisper the last part. “Here, have a drink.” I pour her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table beside me. I hand her the glass of water and feel a little thrill of victory when she takes it, cradling it in both hands deep in consideration for a moment before she brings it to her lips.
One step closer…
“See you tomorrow night at nine sharp, Abigail Tally,” I get to my feet and let myself out of Eve leaving the snake right where she’s standing.
Chapter Ten
Ena
Ugly.
Pretty.
Whore.
I’m on edge. Extremely on edge. I’ve been wearing a path in the floor of my duplex for hours now. I’ve called Slip the fake ID guy, twice and haven’t heard back from him yet. I need a fake Social Security card and Birth Certificate as fast as he can whip them up. I don’t even have time to worry about the cost. I just need them and quick. If I can’t get them I can potentially buy a little time with Beast, citing lost papers or something but that will probably mean I’m working on borrowed time until he boots me out of his club for giving him the run around about the documents he wants. Or maybe I can call Hack and see if he knows anyone else who makes phony documents. It’s all so damn odd though. Why in the hell would he request copies of my documents like he’s a legitimate employer when the position he hired me for is plainly illegal? I mean… it’s not like high dollar hookers are paying into Social Security or State and Federal taxes.
I groan and rub my temples, willing the gearwheels in my brain to slow the hell down before I end up with a massive headache. The stupid blue contacts I’ve been wearing don’t help either. They irritate my eyes, which leaves me flirting with a headache by the time I take them off every night.
An unfamiliar number lights the screen of my cell phone and I fumble with it for a minute. It could be Lan. Or Slip calling from another number?
“Hello?” I say eagerly.
“Abigail?” A friendly female voice greets.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Mercedes.”
Oh.
“Oh. Hi.”
“Beast told me to help you out for your first night as one of Eden’s girls.”
“Yeah, I—uh—I’m new to this,” I admit quietly and then laugh awkwardly.
“Well the good news for you is that there’s not much to it. You’ll be great. I heard you’re a knockout. That’s why they gave you that nickname,” she giggles and it sounds genuine but her comment has me confused.
“What nickname?” I ask as I rummage through my bag for something to quell the headache I feel blooming.
“KO. Everyone has been calling you KO because they say you’re a knockout.”
“Oh. I see. No pressure or anything,” I mutter earning another giggle from Mercedes.
“So, wax appointment and shopping for the things you may need if you don’t already have them. I was ordered to leave your look exactly how it is,” she giggles again. “… so, no salon needed and then Doc is ready to see you as soon as we can get you there. We have to discuss wardrobe, rules, procedure, safety, policy… All the fun stuff. Are you free now?”
“Um, well…”
“The quicker we get you all setup the quicker you’ll get your first client. Time is money and all that,” she says persuasively. But she couldn’t know just how right she is. In my case, it’s only a matter of time before Beast gives me the boot over the paperwork so any time I have left around High Knoll is time I have to gather information that could be the key to finding Lan.
“Yes I’m free now.” My voice is firm and confident, in direct contradiction to the anxiousness I’ve been feeling all day.
“Okay, meet me at the club in an hour?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”
“See you then, KO,” she says then hangs up.
What the fuck am I getting myself into?
My brain and nerves feel scattered to the four winds as I take a quick shower and get ready to go to the lion’s den again. I have a million questions and only about ten of them are questions I’ll ever ask aloud. The possibility that Lan somehow got tied up as an escort leaves me feeling sick to my stomach. Surely I would have known if she’d begun to sell herself. Surely I would have noticed a difference in her spending habits and how she spent her time. I’m not familiar with the annual income of a high-priced hooker, but I suspect they do okay for themselves. I sure as fuck would hope so considering what they’re selling—what they’re risking. Or maybe it was her first taste of this world and things went… wrong.
I can’t bring myself to believe Lan was involved with anything like that. My gut tells me she wouldn’t. Dancing, yes. I can believe that, but escort services, no way. Still, I have to at least keep in mind that it’s a possibility. I know for a fact that she was last seen near Eden and her cell phone corroborated as much. The cell phone signal pinged off a nearby tower before the call was lost and she stopped answering altogether. Her phone was never located. Nothing was located. Not her purse, her keys, her wallet, nothing. Someone plucked my sister from where she was and took her somewhere, and if selling myself gets me any closer to finding out where she went then that’s just what I have to do, though I am not looking forward to it in the slightest.
I’d be lying to myself if I said that after what happened last night in Eve, that I felt slightly dirty and discarded when he’d informed me that he wouldn’t be hiring me to dance but to sell my body. Sex. Beast wants me to fuck random guys, girls, whatever. Who knows who I’ll be meeting in hotel rooms all over Boston to do who knows what. Bile churns in my gut making my lip curl in disgust. I felt it last night. The attraction between us was evident between his muscular thighs. I danced for him and I was nervous at first but when he sounded bored with me after the first song I gave it everything I had. The lap dance was unplanned. I wasn’t sure what I was doing until I was already right on top of him. He went with it and though his expression was pure disinterest, his cock was certainly interested.
Jesus.
I’m no angel. I’m no saint. But I am pretty inexperienced compared to other women my age. I’m twenty-two years old and have somehow managed to keep my body mostly to myself and one man. I’ve done other things and I’m no stranger to the importance of the token vibrator in every woman’s nightstand. I’m on track with all of that. Up until now, I have never given much thought to why I haven’t chosen a male specimen to hop into bed with on a regular basis. I’m clueless when it comes to casual hookups. If I had to diagnose the problem, I’d say that I’m shit at picking men and Rob and Viv didn’t exactly help me develop a healthy view of sexuality. I have a thing for guys that are nothing but trouble or problematic. Taken men. Gay men. Bad men… Again, thanks Rob and Viv. I escaped my time in their home still in tact but only technically. What’s a tiny detail like no vaginal penetration matter when you’ve been violated in every other way? Dumb luck kept me spared in that department. Nothing more.
As an adult, I’ve fooled around of course, but nothing like Beast has ever crossed my path. Not in life and certainly not in bed.
An unbidden vision of Beast between my thighs makes me shiver. I’m disgusted that I’m physically attracted to a murderer who very well could have had a hand in my sister’s disappearance. He’s a monster. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him but as much as he feigned indifference last night, I know he’s attracted to me too. Something primal and needy sizzled between us during that audition. This is a good thing. I need to find a way to capitalize on this. I need to seduce him. I need to get close enough to look through his cell phone contacts, meet the men affiliated with High Knoll, watch for the regulars who frequent the club, sort through anything even remotely useful. Sleeping with a random stranger is a small price to pay for a lead—any leads that may point me in the right direction. The idea of turning sex and my body into a business arrangement makes a small part of me wither. It doesn’t matter. I’ve done everything up until now on my own terms. I’ve been in charge. I’ve chosen partners to fool around with. Now Beast will choose them for me and I will get paid for my time and services while I do my best to find out what has happened to my sister. Easy enough. I’m okay with this.
Right?
I glance at the date on my phone and remember that I’m supposed to be seeing our nation’s greatest wonders. According to my false itinerary, I’m supposed to text mom pictures of The Grand Canyon today. I sigh and grab my phone. I shoot the text her way once I’ve attached the two stolen images to a text saying “Wish you were here! It’s beautiful!”
Thank God for Google images.
Eden looks much different with all the lights off. The main entrance is open but there isn’t an attendant in the vestibule at the front of the building where there is a coat-check and a set of bathrooms. Tiny, the mammoth Viking that stands by the front door is nowhere in sight. I unhook the green velvet rope near the attendant’s podium and proceed into the club. There isn’t any music thumping through the speakers. Men aren’t crowding the stages and there isn’t a single G-string clad stripper in sight. Though I’m sure there could be a stray dancer or two in the back.
“Hello?” I call out but no one seems to be around. I take the opportunity to roam the club. It really is beautiful. The whole place is made to look like some dark garden. Dark green leather couches and chairs are strategically placed around each stage. The main stage is a large half circle showcasing three brass poles. Half a dozen smaller round stages are dotted throughout the main area of the club. Each stage is rimmed with thin, bright green lights. The floor is covered with low-pile charcoal gray carpet. This place isn’t your run of the mill shit hole strip club.
There are multiple high-gloss bars throughout the club with a large bar across from the main stage. I stroll closer to one of the smaller stages and allow my fingers to drift over the vine-like green ropes tangling with each other. Each stage is rimmed with the faux vines giving the stage a unique look. I back my as
s up to the stage, plant my palms and hop up. Once my feet are under me, I look around at the club below trying to imagine what it would have been like to face a crowd full of strangers ogling my naked body and though neither escort nor dancer are flattering job titles, at least being an escort comes with markedly more discretion. I cringe inside at the realization that I’m already justifying my new job title.
Making Dad proud at every turn, Ena.
I had given dancing much consideration and I knew there was a possibility that someone who knows me could have come to the club. I knew I’d have to disguise myself somehow. The eye masks I bought and the slight change in my hair color and eye color were meant to provide me with that protection but now that I am suppose to escort, I wonder how the hell I’m supposed to pull off a disguise. It’s highly unlikely that anyone I know uses an escort but there’s always the possibility.
Anxiety rears its ugly little head and I mentally begin to scramble for a solution.
Hair color and contacts were a decent start. Makeup helps a little. Fuck…
“I used to dance too,” a voice says from behind me and I whirl to find a woman with sleek black hair, wide brown eyes and olive skin smiling up at me. I swallow and hop down from the stage, thrusting my hand out.
“Abigail. Nice to meet you in person, Mercedes.”
“It fits,” she nods with wide eyes and a beautiful smile.
“Sorry?”
“KO. The nickname is perfect for you,” she says eyeing me head to toe. I hate myself for the blush creeping up in cheeks.