Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

  “So, Alex.” I’m still trying to adjust fitting the name to the girl in front of me, having been expecting her sister instead.

  “Yes. Er, that’s me. Er, hi.” She gives a little wave, then drops her hand as though realising it’s not quite the way to greet bikers.

  “Well, let’s sit awhile and you can tell us about yourself and your experience.”

  As her face drops, I realise it’s worse than I thought, and she’s probably never done anything like this before. I indicate the stools sitting by the bar. I take one for myself, Blade pulls up another for him, and we sit, waiting for her to hop up, which she tries to do. But she’s too short, and the stool’s too high. After a couple of failed attempts, Blade growls beside me, then stands, lifts her up, and plonks her down on the seat. This time, I can’t help myself chuckling at her outraged expression.

  Blade doesn’t notice. “You a midget or something?”

  “The correct term is dwarf,” she replies haughtily. “And no, I’m not, I’m just short. I’m four-foot-eleven.”

  That’s tiny to me, I’m over a foot taller. But at least she’s spoken up for herself and shown she’s got spirit. Her words have made me look at her mouth, which is luscious and full, just right for putting those lips around a man’s cock. Her eyes are large and so dark with gold flecks. Her cheeks are a little on the chubby side, but attractive for all that, and her nose flares slightly. Her hair is tamed with some sort of gel, tight curls framing her face. All in all, she’s pretty enough. At my blatant inspection, one eyebrow rises in challenge. Hmm, no shrinking violet here.

  Her breasts are enormous, or perhaps they just look out of proportion on her small frame, and her ass seems to hang off the seat. Her stomach is rounded, she looks like a fucking ripe mama. Wiping my hand over my face, I wonder how quickly I can tell her the bad news.

  But I’ll go through at least some of the motions so I don’t disappoint her. “So, you want to be a stripper, doll.” The endearment comes naturally, she’s such a tiny thing.

  “No,” she replies quite seriously, shocking me. She’s come to an audition in a strip club, for fuck’s sake. But I come back to myself as she continues. “I really don’t, but I don’t mind being a dancer, and I’m left with few options. I’ll tell you upfront, if you need information to put me on the books, I’ll not waste your time further.”

  Blade’s quick on the uptake. “Someone looking for ya, darlin’?” He’s gone tense, and if there’s the slightest chance we’d take her on, well, there isn’t, but if we did, we’d need to find out who’s looking for her. Can’t afford to bring trouble to the club.

  She gives a little shake of her head, “No. Yes.” Then as she realises her answer’s probably confusing, adds, “I really don’t know. But if he is, I don’t want to be found.”

  “Who we talking about, darlin’?” Again, Blade gets in first.

  There’s a slight hesitation, as though she doesn’t want to tell us. “My husband, ex-husband.”

  “Well, which is it? Husband or ex?” I ask for clarification, a little impatiently.

  “Husband, unfortunately. I have good grounds for divorce, that won’t be a problem, but I don’t want him to find out where I am, so I’ve not yet started proceedings.”

  There’re normally few reasons why a woman doesn’t want to be found. I go for the most common. “He hit you?” She’s so tiny, well, in stature, the rest of her is quite large. But even so, for a man to raise his fists to someone as little as her? The thought makes me angry.

  There’s a flare in her eyes as she replies, her hand going to her cheek, “Only the once.”

  Good girl. So many women hang around, lapping up the excuses until they’re too broken to run or end up dead. That she only let him hurt her just one time shows she’s got backbone. Looking closely, I notice while it’s somewhat disguised by the dark skin and makeup, she’s got some scarring. I’m incensed on her behalf.

  “To be honest,” I realise she hasn’t finished, “we’d been married six years and that was enough for us both. I believe he’ll be glad I’ve gone, but…”

  “You’re not taking any chances.”

  Gratefully, she nods at Blade.

  “You got a place to stay?” I’m not sure why I’m asking. It must be the fact she’s so petite that brings out my protective instinct.

  She smiles—the expression transforming her face, revealing she’s really quite pretty—and nods. “Yes, with my sister and her husband.”

  “The girl you were with last night.” I’m glad she’s got family looking out for her.

  Another nod, but this time the sides of her mouth turn down. “I’m sorry. I suspect that’s who you were expecting. She set this up. Set me up.”

  “But you need work and a job off the books.” Blade looks at me and lifts his chin. It seems he’s taken a liking to this little pixie, and fuck me if I haven’t too. Perhaps we can find her some waitressing work. We do own the Wheel Inn restaurant, there might be something for her there, where her out-of-proportion figure wouldn’t be such a drawback.

  I decide to be blunt. “Look,” I wave my hand at her. “You’re not really the type we employ here—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, she interrupts, saying forcefully, “You haven’t given me a chance yet to show what I can do.”

  Surprised, not normally used to someone cutting me off, it pulls me up. Part of me wants to teach her a lesson. “So you want to take your clothes off, show us what you’ve got?” I suspect my harsh question will have her running. Berating myself, I wish I hadn’t spoken so sharply. Something about her makes me hope she’ll accept the challenge. While we’ve been talking, I’ve started to see her in a different light, and now I’m intrigued to see what’s under her clothes. She’s not giving away very much at the moment, though she’s wearing skin-tight yoga pants, her chest concealed by an ill-fitting sweatshirt. Though her top’s baggy, it doesn’t hide that she is indeed, as Blade had hoped, stacked.

  She licks her lips. Fuck, girl, just stop. I’m amazed as my cock twitches when my attention is drawn to her mouth once more.

  “I don’t want to strip totally naked, I couldn’t do that. But I do want to dance. I’ll show you what I can do, and then you can decide.”

  “You want to dance for us?”

  “Yes, Blade, wasn’t it? Yes, Blade, I do.”

  Her back straightens and a look of determination comes to her face. Blade looks at me and raises his eyebrow. I return his stare. A silent conversation between us of, What could it hurt? A few minutes of our time, that’s all it will take. I only hope I can hold off from busting my gut laughing.

  Reaching inside the purse on her lap, she brings out a disc. “Can you put this on for me, please?”

  At least she’s come organised. Calling Road over, I pass it to him. He looks at the title.

  “Got this on the system already, Dart.”

  “Go cue it up then.” Road knows his way around. Before becoming a prospect, he worked here full time as a bouncer.

  She slides off the stool, a major achievement, but lands surprisingly lightly on her feet. Taking her purse along with her, she ascends the steps to the stage and approaches the pole in the middle.

  “Oh fuck. I don’t know if I can fuckin’ bear to watch.” Blade covers his eyes with his hands, fingers splayed so he can still peer through.

  But my attention has been caught as she rips off her sweatshirt. She’s wearing a tight tank underneath that reveals curves my fingers actually itch to touch. Next, she opens the purse and brings out a couple of items. A spray bottle is one, and she squirts it at the pole, another is a tube of something she squeezes onto her hands. I nudge my brother. “Looks like she at least knows what she’s doing.”

  “If she falls off, that ass is gonna dent the floor.”

  “Can it!” I growl, for some reason wanting to give her a chance.

  Suddenly the sound of claps and the first beats of Enrique Iglesias’ Bailando sta
rt to play. Her face splits into a grin as she approaches the pole, her body already swaying to the beat in perfect rhythm. As she takes hold and pulls herself up and performs some sort of cartwheel around the base, the way she’s pointing her toes seems to make her legs look longer. Then she’s hooking her leg around the pole, balancing with just one knee and leaning back and, oh fuck me, her back arched to the floor shows her breasts just begging to be caressed. In an amazing display of flexibility, the moves just keep coming, and all the time she’s keeping to the beat. When I get a glimpse of her face, she’s smiling, her eyes flashing. She’s loving this shit.

  I exchange a look with Blade. He’s fucking entranced. She’s doing some serious progressions; she fucking owns that pole. I’ve seen dancers aplenty, more than I care to count, but I can’t remember anyone quite so elegant and, at the same time, so fucking sexy. What seemed to weigh her down when she was on the ground appears flattering when she wraps herself around the metal. She might not be naked, but she’s alluring enough as it is.

  Oh, hell. What’s she doing now? She’s off the pole and taking a deep breath, her body still moving to the rhythm though. Is that it? Has she no stamina? She glances across to me, now her smile’s smaller and appears nervous, then her shoulders come back as she seems to come to a decision. Without hesitation, she takes her yoga pants off, and then the tank is gone. It wasn’t the best striptease I’ve ever seen, but I’ll be fucked if it wasn’t worth it. Now all she’s wearing is a red satin bra and panty set, the colour contrasting well with her dark skin and revealing the gentle curve of her stomach. She’d feel soft under my hands. Now she’s shimmering up the pole again. Christ, did I say she was sexy? What’s a word that means she’s even more than that?

  She’s back on the pole and I can see more of her now, her muscles rippling, her skin glistening from the effort she’s putting on. How she can keep hold with just one hand or just her ankles, I’ve no idea. She’s must have a lot of strength, particularly in her arms and thighs. But it’s not her athletic ability that gets to me most. No, it’s that ass and tits, and everything else she’s got. It’s the whole fucking package, and the whole way she’s shimmying and not once missing a beat.

  My jeans get uncomfortable, and I reach down to adjust myself. One glance at Blade and he’s doing the same. He catches me noticing and sends me a wry look.

  “I’ll be the first to admit I’m wrong, Brother.”

  “Me too, Blade, me fuckin’ too. If we can compromise, she’ll wear a thong and pasties and do a striptease as she’s coming down that pole. The customers will go wild for her.”

  “She fuckin’ owns it, Brother.”

  I watch her again. She seems lost in her own world. Her lips are curved up in a satisfied smile as she twists and turns, pulls herself up, and lets herself slide again. She’s loving it. She’s not dancing for me, she’s dancing for herself.

  Blade’s right. The patrons would fucking love it.

  Chapter Four

  Alex…

  Spraying vodka on the pole to clean it, and then chalk onto my hands, I prepare to dance as though my life depends on it. Which, in essence, it does. I need this job, need money going into the bank so I’m no longer a burden on my sister, and hopefully can start to save up. I can do this. I must.

  The music starts, the beat’s counting me in. I begin to forget everything else and lose myself in my routine, stretching out my legs with my toes pointed, the move my instructor would tell me seemed to lengthen my legs. All the time keeping to the rhythm, I plant the toes of one leg square with the base and hook my knees around the pole, when I arch my back with my head and hands hanging down, I know I’m making the most of my ample bust in this pose. Now I’m back on the pole, gripping it halfway up and opening my legs gracefully into a V, then keeping my legs out straight, raise them over my head so I’m upside down in the inverted position. I then transition smoothly into the plank, and follow that with one hand above my head and the other in line with my waist, then raise myself up to perform the boomerang spin.

  I feel constricted in my clothes. Normally when I’m on the pole, I’m wearing just a leotard. My first thought is that original audience of one, and my memory of Ron watching the video, his face first mocking then twisting in disgust. Now, this time I’m dancing it’s in front of two, no, three bikers if you include the one behind the bar who’s stopped his work to look. Their eyes rapt as they watch. Before my nerves catch up with me, I gracefully dismount and rip off my yoga pants and top, glad I’d had the foresight to wear my best underwear today. Red satin against my black skin.

  Then I’m back on the pole, enjoying the freedom, letting my mind escape as I twist and twirl, my muscles stretching and contracting. I’m completely oblivious to anything else as I lose myself in the dance, unable even to name the positions I move through, lost in the beat of the song. My arms and legs moving, stomach and thighs working to support me in contorted positions, spinning and moving in time with the music, to the floor and back up, posing, then twisting again.

  The music comes to an end. I time it perfectly, sliding down, and end up doing the splits, my head bowed low to the floor. I wait. It’s completely silent. Then the room is filled with the sound of clapping and whistles.

  Embarrassed now to be wearing so little, I pick up my tank and pull it over my head and quickly slip into my pants.

  Ron had complained about my figure, told me to do some exercise. Telling him I’d joined a gym, I let him assume what he wanted, but had taken up pole dancing lessons instead. At first, even I thought myself mad, but I soon found my talent. I’d practiced and practiced and then got my teacher to film me. I’d dressed as sexy as I could, cooked Ron his favourite meal, then hooked up my phone to the TV, hoping my display would have spiced up our non-existent sex life. All he’d said was what an idiot I looked like. How ungainly, and such a joke. He’d bring up his dinner if he watched any more, and other unflattering comments. We never spoke of it again, but without him knowing, I continued to dance. From that point on, just for myself.

  Now I stand rigid, not daring to look. Are they laughing at me too? Their response didn’t suggest it, but they might just be being kind for the short chubby girl who’d given it her all.

  My back is turned toward my small audience, and I’ve tears in my eyes. I couldn’t have done more. Now I should pick up my purse and go home. I start bending to the floor to take hold of it as the sound of heavy motorcycle boots clomps toward me. Not wanting to be hurt by seeing his expression, I don’t turn around.

  “Pasties and a thong. We’ll settle for that. When can you start?”

  My back straightens as I have trouble processing the words. While I never dreamed of ending up working in a strip club, I’m desperate and destitute. This compromise he’s offering of not getting completely naked is one I’m sure I could make. Without turning, disbelieving I’ve passed the audition, trying to stop my voice shaking with excitement, I ask for confirmation. “You’re offering me a job?”

  “Fuck, doll. Never seen anything like that before. Of course, I’m offering you a fuckin’ job. Would be out of my fuckin’ head if I didn’t.”

  Now I twist around, my head first, followed by my body. The man called Dart is standing in front of me, admiration shining out from his eyes. And, if I’m not mistaken, the outline of a very stiff dick pushing at the denim of his jeans.

  My lips curve into a small, self-satisfied smile. My moves certainly hadn’t had that effect on my ex. I feel like fist pumping the air, and my mouth widens into a grin. “I’ll agree to the terms, and I can start whenever you like.”

  Dart reaches out his hand and helps me off the stage. “Fuck, woman, where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”

  “Classes,” I explain, my feet on the floor, but I’m strangely reluctant to let go of the biker’s hand. A feeling reciprocated, as he doesn’t drop mine, but leads me back to the bar where Blade is beaming at me.

  “You fuckin’ owned that, dar
lin’.”

  Nodding at his compliment, I can’t stop myself from smiling. I’m in a strip club run by bikers, and I feel appreciated for the first time in my life. There Ron. Suck that up.

  “It’s what I love doing.” I feel brave enough to try to explain. “I feel weightless and free, as though I’m flying.”

  As though he’s been doing it all his life, Blade puts his strong arms around me and lifts me back onto the stool, this time with no comment about my lack of height. His actions force Dart to let go of my hand, and as I catch a glimpse of his face, I see his mouth tighten.

  “Stop manhandling her, Blade.”

  “Whatcha gonna do, get lower stools?”

  Their interaction makes me laugh. “One with cross bars would help, so I could climb up.”

  “You ain’t gonna be sitting at the bar, doll. You’ll come on, do your set, then get the hell back stage.”

  Blade’s eyebrows rise as he glances at Dart, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t think anything of it, just feel relieved. I’ve been given the confirmation that all Dart wants me to do is to dance.

  We spend a few moments talking about wages, and they explain I’ll be able to double that or more with tips. I’m pleased, as it sounds more than sufficient for me to pay back my sister, and, if they’re right about the money that will be thrown on the stage, enough to start a savings account. I’m on cloud nine and can’t wipe the grin off my face.

  Dart takes out his wallet and peels off a few bills. “Get something sexy, doll.” As I glance at him, perplexed, he adds, “You obviously need money, so I’m guessing you could do with an advance to get some suitable costumes. You’ll need to incorporate a striptease during your dance. You know how to do that?”

  I offer a guilty nod. Yeah, my teacher had taught me, and I’d done that on the video I’d shown to Ron. My only reward had been a sneer accompanied by gagging sounds. I try to push my ex out of my head. “Will I have access here, during the day? I’ll need to work up some routines, vary it up a bit.”