It was a pathetic collection.
I kind of wished Joey's things were around. She had a great dress collection. And on the plus side, she was smaller than me in all departments, so things that looked almost demure on her tended to cling to my chest and thighs and hips and ass, leaving next to nothing to the imagination.
Luckily, I did own one little black dress that was pretty much just sex disguised as clothing. The neckline was low with a built-in shelf bra that made my boobs rise up and say hello so much that I knew so much as leaning forward in it would cause them to pop out completely. The whole thing was skintight, curving perfectly over my ass, clinging to my thighs. You know, the less than half of them they covered.
I hung it up, made my way to the bathroom to shower, actually spent a few minutes drying my hair, then went back to my room - Thayer's room - to do my makeup where no one could see me, wanting to save the impact for when he was ready to head out.
At eight-fifteen on the dot, Thayer's voice called from the main area.
"Sera, you ready to head out?"
Checking a glance in the mirror, I saw the dress clinging everywhere it was supposed to, the smoky hint to my eyes, the bold lip color.
Oh, yeah, I was ready.
With a spritz of perfume, I grabbed a small clutch, and went for the door.
I found the guys in the common room, Thayer's back to me, but the others facing me.
Calloway's smile spread.
Roux nodded.
Hatcher let out a low whistle, something that made Thayer turn.
There was no mistaking the low Fuck that escaped his lips.
"Christ, babe, how are the girls on stage supposed to make any money with you showing them up like that?" he asked, and I swear it was the best compliment I'd ever gotten in my life. The warmth that came from it swirled around my belly and shot outward, overtaking me entirely.
"Not too much?" I asked, though I was completely sure that even if he said it was, in fact, too much, that there was no way I was going to change when it was making him look at me like that.
"It's just enough," he told me, approaching, making my stomach flip-flop. "Just enough to keep me from walking you back into that room, and tossing you on that bed," he added in a whisper before turning. "You coming, Roux?" he asked, suddenly making his way toward the door. "Babe, what's the problem?" he asked a moment later, standing beside his bike.
The problem seemed completely obvious to me. But guys, well, they kinda missed some basic things. "The problem is I am in a short skirt, and that will require a, ah, indelicate position for me. I'll just take my car."
"Not gonna object to you having your pussy all pressed up against me, babe. Get on the fucking bike."
Normally, I hated being given orders. Especially from men. But while on the surface, what he said sounded like a demand - and maybe even a nasty one - the reality was, he said it in a way that made it more of an encouragement than anything.
I also had no objection to being pressed tightly against him, so I watched him climb on, then carefully - so as not to flash my ass to Roux - climbed up, felt myself slip forward on the seat, my thighs plastering themselves to the outsides of his, my breasts crushing to his back.
"Hold on, babe," he demanded, waiting for my arms to slide around his chest tight.
It took an unexpected amount of self-control not to rest my head against his back, breathe him in.
But then the bike lurched, my belly dropped, and we were off.
The ride was far too short, but a new kind of excitement bubbled up as we parked out front of Peaches, finding several cars already in the lot. The dancers, I imagined, as well as the bartenders, and the new security personnel. Bea's intimidating-looking giant black SUV was parked up front near the door.
"Me first," I demanded, not wanting to flash him. At least not until I was ready to do so.
"You ready?" he asked, giving me another once-over as I tugged down the hem of my skirt a bit.
"Absolutely."
And then he did the damndest thing.
He slung his arm across my shoulders, making my body sink a bit under the unexpected weight. Then he walked me inside.
See, when you think of a strip club, your mind has a tendency to think seedy and dirty and uncomfortable to be in, at least for a woman.
This, though, was something out of some movie about high rollers going to some upscale nudie bar.
There was a main stage to the front of the building with two poles in front of expensive-looking red curtains, surrounded by comfortable-looking black leather barrel chairs. There was another minuscule round stage to the left surrounded by only four chairs for a more up-close-and-personal dance. To the right was the long bar lined with stools. There were beautiful chandeliers and hanging lamps with white shades, discreet red track lighting running under tables and counter tops, lining the stage, under the curtain, giving the whole room a flattering reddish hue.
"Wow. This was not what I was expecting," I told him honestly as two female bartenders in black skirts and tight black tees came out from the back room with bowls full of lemons and limes to slice.
"We thought about changing the name when we remodeled, so it didn't sound silly, but we all decided to keep it in tribute to our old man."
This wasn't the kind of club you would walk into and expect to find that a bunch of bikers owned it. It was classy, comfortable, the kind of place that begged you to settle in, and open up your wallet. Which I was sure they all did.
"You guys do an insane business here, don't you?"
"It's definitely enough. Even if it was all we wanted to do."
"Then why don't you?"
To that, he shrugged. "Our Pops found out that in a bad economy, men will stop coming to places like this to save some money. But nothing ever stops the drug trade. It's always smart to diversify your portfolio. Or, at least, that is what Bea is always popping off about. That girl is going to be a fucking venture capitalist someday, I swear."
I didn't disagree.
"Good for her. I wish I had been able to be so sure about things at her age."
"Would you open your own tattoo shop?" he asked, surprising me, as he led me over toward the bar.
"Honestly, I have never given it a lot of thought."
"Well, give it thought," he suggested. "She'll have a vodka cran," he told one of the women behind the bar.
"I would like that, I think. A more female-friendly atmosphere. Somewhere comfortable and free of the frat boy crap I deal with where I work now. Maybe someday," I said, though I knew it was most likely not in the cards for me. Girls like me, we didn't open businesses. We just got by. And getting by wasn't all that bad. It was certainly worse than being on the streets. I had no reason to complain.
"It's good to reach for things. Alright, babe. I have to go start handling some business. You hang here with the girls. Sandy, Kelly, this is Sera. Take care of her. And if you see Doug, you know what to do."
"That rat bastard," Sandy snapped, face darkening.
I missed it at first, but the girls must have been sisters. Both were tall, big-chested, thin-waisted, long-legged, with corn silk hair that seemed natural, and big brown eyes. The only differences were with their makeup and the fact that Kelly had a full sleeve of ink, and Sandy didn't have any visible art.
"Have fun, babe," he told me, giving my hip a squeeze before sauntering off.
"Oh, my God, you are so lucky," Sandy gushed as soon as Thayer was out of earshot.
"Lucky how?"
"Getting him all to yourself," she told me, absentmindedly running a dry rag across the bar top, like she was clearing up condensation from bottles and glasses that wasn't there yet. "I mean, lots of the girls - you know, the club girls - come in here and talk about going to bed with him, but no one gets to have him all to themselves. I would have gone for him, but I am a bit of a relationship type of girl."
"A bit," Kelly snorted. "She practically needs a promise ring and a copy of your 4
01k and health benefits package before she will give you a little hand-job."
"I don't have him all to myself," I told them, wondering if the longing I felt was in my voice.
"I think you do," Sandy insisted. "Even if you don't realize it yet. We've worked here since we were just barely legal, and I have never seen him bring a woman here."
Well, that might have said something. If it weren't for the fact that the reason I was at the club was because I had whined about being bored.
"He's just... helping me out with some things," I told them, ignoring their identical looks that I swear said I've got a few things I'd like him to help me with.
"Hey, Bea," I greeted the girl as she rushed out of the back room, her hair twisted in a haphazard top-knot, some of her black eyeliner smudged, everything about her a bit more harried than usual.
"Oh! Hey. Thayer didn't say he was bringing you."
"I hope it's alright."
"It's totally fine! I'm glad you came. I hope you have fun. Whatever she has is on the house," she added to Sandy and Kelly. "I, ah, need to talk to my brother about something," she rushed to say, glancing back over her shoulder to the door that I knew led to her office, then dashing off.
It wasn't until a minute later that I realized what had put her in such an odd mood.
Roux was walking out of the back.
Maybe we were finally onto season two of the Roux and Bea show.
I couldn't wait to see what it had in store.
"You ready to get hit on by everyone?" Roux asked, walking past. Then added, "The doors are opening."
"It's fine," Sandy insisted, waving a dismissive hand. "I mean, you are going to get hit on. They always hit on us. But almost all of them have wives at home. They don't mean anything by the flirting. They are just having a bit of a fantasy. They aren't actually trying to pick you up. Besides, I think if anyone gets close, Thayer is going to have something to say about it."
"He is keeping an eye on you," Kelly added, nodding, as she deftly sliced a lemon into wedges while barely paying attention to what she was doing.
I casually cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Thayer watching me. But seeing me catch him, he turned his focus to the guy he was talking to instead.
Oh, yeah.
Things were going to go down.
And soon.
But I was going to enjoy the club first.
The men came in a flood instead of a trickle, filling the place in a matter of minutes, taking all the seats, starting to place their orders for drinks, some of them doing so at their tables, others coming up beside me to do it. As expected, there were some casual feelers put out by the guys, but nothing overt or inappropriate - just like Sandy had said.
Then the music came on louder, positively throbbing out of the speakers.
And the first girl took the main stage.
I was pretty damn straight, never feeling the need to question my sexuality, or explore. But watching these girls work the poles, their long hair flying around, their bodies twisting and gyrating, yeah, ideas actually started to pop into my head, so I couldn't imagine what the guys must have been thinking.
The second stage got occupied, likely by high rollers.
Girls were led into the back, followed by one of Bea's security guys.
Roux and Thayer circulated the room, waiting for others to approach them, never making a spectacle of themselves, not wanting to interfere with the club business to handle their own.
Just from the times when I was paying attention, they each handled at least fifteen deals. I had no idea how much that equaled out to, or what they sold, but it definitely seemed like they were doing pretty well. Especially considering they really weren't doing anything.
Before I knew it, the last girl took the stage, did her dance, collected her money, and was gone. Lights got a bit brighter, the music dulled, and the men all just started to get up to leave.
Sandy and Kelly started breaking down the bar - capping the bottles, draining the ice bin to put it in the back to clean out, sanitizing the bar top, loading plastic crates full of used glasses, then showing impressive strength by hauling them into the back to be washed. There must have been a guy in the back room to handle the cleaning, because they each came right back out, counting the tip money, splitting it in two. Then, to my surprise, each of the dancers came out of the back - still with their dramatic makeup on, but wearing sweaters or tees, their hair pulled up, their heels hanging out of their purses - and tipped out the bartenders.
At the end of their shift, they had to have been walking out of there with a few hundred each. Which was starting to make me reconsider my job as a tattoo artist.
I mean... I could learn to mix some drinks.
For that kind of money.
But then again, I didn't have the best personality for hospitality. I learned this by getting fired for every customer-service-type job I had ever attempted to work at.
If the bartenders were walking away with that kind of money, I couldn't fathom what the dancers were pocketing. Sure, their job had a shelf-life. A short one at that. But if they were smart about saving it for the few years that they could handle the dancing, were still young and pretty and perky enough to charm men out of their money, I imagined they would be further along than I was in life.
"You good here for a bit, babe?" Thayer asked after Sandy and Kelly said their goodnights, going over toward Roux who was waiting for them at the door with the other security guys.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Go handle your business."
With that, he did.
Before I knew it, the entire place seemed to close down around me, something that - I will admit - was a little creepy.
The guy who was in the back even up and left, along with Bea who said she'd see me at home. Then the security guys. Roux was also nowhere to be seen, though I was pretty sure he was around outside somewhere. Everyone was keeping close ranks, using the buddy-system, until Doug was found and handled. I highly doubted Roux was leaving Thayer and me behind.
"Alright. I just have to handle one or two things in back, then we can head out like everyone else."
He seemed to mean everyone too.
I hadn't seen anyone in a while.
If we really were completely alone, well, I had an idea.
I waited for Thayer to head out, then quickly hopped out of my seat, rushed up the club, climbing up on the stage, disappearing behind it, checking out the lights and sound. I dimmed everything to how it had been when the girls had been on stage, wanting to have that same flattering light on them on me. Then I shuffled through the songs, looking for the perfect one, smiling a little when I found it.
Porn Star Dancing.
How appropriate.
"Sera?" Thayer's voice called, a little raised, but not alarmed, likely thinking I had just dipped into the ladies.
"Sit down one second," I demanded, hoping my voice wasn't as excited as I felt.
"What?"
"Just do it," I demanded, glancing out, watching him glance around, like maybe my voice had echoed into the back, and he wasn't sure where it was coming from.
All the better.
I waited to see him drop down, right there by the stage.
With a smirk, I hit the play button.
And I moved out from behind the stage.
The recognition hit in a matter of a blink, turning his face from curious to heated just as quickly.
I wasn't an exotic dancer by any means.
But Joey had once talked me into taking a six-week pole dancing exercise class with her, her treat, so I couldn't say no.
So I at least knew how to hook the pole, spin around it, hang halfway upside down from it. Then somewhat seductively move away from it, do a teensy bit of floor work.
I wasn't so worried about what happened after I got off the pole.
Because what I had in mind didn't end with Thayer opening his pocket for me.
Oh, no.
I had something much more i
nteresting in mind.
Eyes on him, I grabbed the pole with one arm, just doing a quick spin around it before hooking my knee, pulling myself up off the floor. Pretty gracefully, if I do say so myself.
From there, it really became more about pure instinct as the music blared.
My feet hit the stage again as my hands moved downward, inching my dress upward, exposing the panties I had picked with the sole intention of having him rip them off me. Nude. Lacey. They barely existed at all.
And they were all I had on when I went for the pole again, hauling my almost completely naked body up, only having a moment of insecurity about how my body looked twisting around at odd angles and hanging upside down, something easily pushed away when I saw the way Thayer's hands were digging into the arms of his chair, trying to hold onto his control.
By the time the song skipped to the next in the order, something a little less obvious, a little slower, sexier, I was crawling up the stage toward him, eye-contact fierce as I slipped off the stage, moving over his chair.
I'd never taken a lap dance class. But I'd seen more than my fair share of them on movies, in rap videos.
There was nothing but confidence as I climbed over Thayer, swaying my body around seductively, dropping down on his lap, grinding into him. And that was how I could feel just how into this he was. Desperately so.
His hands stayed right there on the arms of the chair though, playing by the rules.
I stood, turning back to face him, doing a little snake dance down onto the ground, planting my hands on his knees, pushing them wide, sliding in between them, rubbing my breasts up his thighs, stomach, chest, then bringing my knees up, straddling him, curling my arms around his neck.
Then waiting.
I'd made the move.
It was up to him to seal the deal.
I didn't have to wait long.
Thayer's hand raised, grabbing the back of my neck, dragging me closer, then sealing his lips over mine.
Despite his cock stabbing into my pelvis, proving his need, his lips were surprisingly explorative, not demanding.
That, well, it simply thawed me completely.
Melted me.
I was pure need as his tongue slipped inside to tease over mine to the sound of the throbbing base beat I swear I could feel in my bones.
Revenge - Reckless Renegades 1 Page 16
