by Dani Wyatt
Her cheeks rise in shades of pink that match her shoes and I don’t remember ever considering how beautiful that color is. Pink.
I repeat the word inside my head. It’s not just a color anymore, it’s her. Sweet, and hot and girlish with a softness that makes my head spin.
Pink.
Behind the bar, Henry keeps glancing over at her and I snap my hand in the air and catch his attention.
“Yeah, boss?” He smiles and bobs his eyebrows thinking I’m on the same page with him as he tips his head in her direction.
Instead of taking the five steps I need to get in front of her, I shift to my right and lean over the slick, black-granite bar, reach out and jab a single finger into Henry’s chest.
“Go down there,” I growl, motioning with my eyes for the opposite end of the bar.
“What?” His confusion is obvious, as he rubs behind his ear and cinches his eyebrows together. Then he throws another sidelong glance her way and my head starts to buzz and pound.
“Don’t fucking look at her again. Get the fuck down to the other end of the bar before I introduce your ass to the unemployment line. Go!”
He eyes me quizzically, but luckily for him his feet are moving in the direction I intended so I refocus my attention on the little doe that has my dick ready to shoot off without even a touch. I carefully slip the Polaroids into the front pocket of my shirt and straighten up.
Her wavy, auburn hair and silver-grey eyes are already burned into me like a white hot brand. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman; I want her right fucking now, and I want to shut the fucking place down and pin her under me until she surrenders and my cum is dripping from her.
This from a man who a few minutes ago figured he might go the rest of his life without. Now, I’m a sixteen-year old with raging hormones and an out of control hard-on. The rest of the room falls away and I’ve got tunnel vision—this tiny, luscious cherub is in my crosshairs.
My fingertips are tingling where I held her picture. And I know that’s fucking strange but something inside of me has left rational thought behind. I’m on a quest to figure out how to get her alone and show her whom she belongs to.
First, I turn toward the two other girls who are waiting for their chance. They are standing a good six feet away, so I lean in and try to politely tell them there will be no interviews tonight. They both give me a nasty snort but I don’t give a shit—I’m already turned around and focused on what matters.
Allister comes up from behind and taps me on the shoulder.
“What?” I snap.
“Hey. I was going to take care of them.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender and I remember just a few minutes ago I’d told him to let the other girls go, but my head isn’t on right. He narrows his eyes and I can tell he has more to say. “Just letting you know . . . that group from last week we talked about? The entitled, douche patrol? They booked the VIP room again. Tonight. You told me to let you know, so I’m letting you know. Jesus, man, what’s gotten into you?”
I grit my teeth, trying to regain some control. “Nothing.” I shake my head, but not at him. “Fine, but you tell those fucks if they lay one fucking hand on one of my girls again, I’ll dismantle them one testicle at a time. I’m not fucking around here. Just because they live in my backyard and think their shit don’t stink, they can take that Guido bullshit down under eight mile.”
“Fine by me.” Allister’s eyes are questioning, but he also knows me well enough to know it’s time to back the fuck off. “I’ll deliver the message. I’ll be around if you need me.”
I grab his wrist before he leaves and add, “If I get any more blowback about whatever the fuck that was going on last week–something about someone’s wife getting offed–I want to fucking know. I hope that’s all just their balls swelling up and the liquor talking, but I’m not putting up with that gangster bullshit; I don’t care how expensive their suits are. Clear?” I let his arm go and reach up to grab the back of my neck and squeeze. “You have the girls keep their ears open when they serve them. I want to fucking know. I know people too; I’ll have their asses pinned with forty to life if I find out any of that is true.”
“Clear.”
With that, he wanders back down to the other end of the bar, snapping at a couple waitresses who are hanging around chatting it up with Henry instead of tending their tables in the restaurant.
Most people would look around here and think I’m just running a successful business, but it’s more. A lot more. I feel like a father to a lot of these girls and being their friend all the time doesn’t serve their best interests. They’ve all learned I’m fair, but I’m also firm, and they can either appreciate the opportunities I offer or they can go back to wherever they came from. There are plenty of others that would jump at the job and it’s not just a paycheck.
It’s a way out.
But this girl clearly isn’t what usually walks in here. She’s different. From the way she’s dressed, she’s from the right side of the tracks. Her choice in clothes has me chuckling on the inside, but it’s just in the kooky way she’s put it all together. Her sweater looks like cashmere and she’s clutching a two-thousand-dollar Burberry coat.
My eye catches the other two girls as they exit out the front door and the little doe looks like she’s about to jackrabbit right behind them. But I’m on her in two long strides.
“Er, hi.” She looks up and greets me with an impish, uncomfortable smile.
“Hi. Follow me,” I grumble. I can’t bear to see her standing out here where anyone can look at her. I fight off the urge to take her out to my car and drive her home. To my home.
Home.
What the fuck? I want her home, and what I mean by home is in my bed, under my roof, with my last name coming right behind the “Mrs.” when she introduces herself.
Something is either very wrong with me or very right. Or, someone slipped me something because my ears are hot and my skin is prickling, and I’m thinking about this girl like she’s already mine.
“Where are we going?” she asks without moving and the sound of her voice resonates somewhere inside of me, shaking things loose that have been wound tight forever. “That other giant, bald man said we would do our tryouts out here.” She lifts a hand from where she’s clutching her coat and points at the back wall. There is a hint of fear in her voice and I turn to look at her face.
Her grey eyes are rimmed with black and they shimmer like a moon reflecting off still water. She brings her loose hand up to push her hair behind her ear and I want to bury myself into her neck and mark her right here so every other mother fucker around knows to stay away.
OK, she’s starting to look scared as fuck now. I decide to cool it off a little. “I’m the owner here.” I take a breath, get my voice back under control. “Decker Lawrence. You can call me Deck. And you are?” I don’t dare shake her hand–I may never let go–so I shove my hands down into my pockets and try not to be obvious about shifting my hard-on behind my zipper so it’s less visible from Mars.
“I’m Maribelle, but everyone calls me May.” She’s fighting a smile trying to be so serious and more than anything the smile is what I want to see on her face. And I want to be the one to put it there. She clicks her heels together and my eyes dart down to the crazy pinkish-purple glittered shoes she’s wearing and realize they are perfect for her.
“Well, Pink.” Shit. I stammer. “I mean, May.” I can barely form a fucking clear thought.
She’s looking up at me with those wide eyes, lashes batting with an inquisitive innocence and I almost lose it. I clear my throat, then knuckle down and get my shit together. “You’re looking for work, right?”
“Yes.” She straightens up and puts on her serious face, which is sexy as hell just because I know she’s trying to impress me. “I have been reading about your club in the paper. I saw that you are hiring dancers that can work night hours.” She looks so nervous, like she really needs this. “That schedule w
orks for me, so I’d like the job please. I can start tonight.” She bites the inside of her cheek and looks me right in the eye.
It takes a lot of strength to hold back my laugh, but I don’t want to embarrass her because I can see she’s serious as hell. This girl has my balls already in her hand. And I wish that wasn’t just metaphorical.
“Okay.” I stifle the chuckle and swallow hard.
“But, I want to make one thing clear.” She licks her lips and pulls her shoulders back, drawing my eye to the fullness of her sweater for a long moment. “Excuse me. I’m talking to you.” She’s mad.
Fuck, she’s going to make me cum in my fucking pants.
“What’s that?” I keep my game face on, dragging my eyes kicking and screaming from her tits because it’s clear she’s all business.
“I will dance, but I will not do other things. You know, with the men.” She glares at me and even in the dim light I can see her cheeks rise in pink.
I gather myself together as much as I can. This girl means business, and I seriously respect that she’s willing to talk to me like that. I hate that she’s even had to think about shit like that, but I know that’s the way the world works. All I can do is wonder what the hell a girl like her is doing here in the first place.
“Yeah? Okay, anything else?”
“Yes. And . . . the music, I don’t like that music they’re playing.” She wrinkles her nose like she’s smelling something awful.
The standard thump, thump of house music fills the massive space and once again I’m swallowing my laugh at her presumptiveness. Any other place, any other audition, she would have been eaten alive by now and tossed out the door.
“You don’t, huh? What kind of music do you like May?” My devilish grin can’t be fought any longer and my lips pull back over my teeth.
Staff members are moving around us and shooting side long glances my way, probably because they think I’ve lost my mind standing here chatting and grinning like a fat kid eating cake.
I want to get her out of here and back in my office but I don’t want to scare her either.
“I like happy music. Like ‘Stayin’ Alive’ and ‘I Want Candy,’ oh!” Her eyes twinkle like she’s just found a quarter on the sidewalk. She’s practically singing the titles. “I like that song ‘Push It,’ that’s a good stripper song right?” Her excitement makes her shift up onto her tip toes.
Does she know it’s 2016? Those songs are older than she is. I know them well; I’ve got a decade plus on her but her enthusiasm is making me want to actually let her dance.
But not for them, not for the guys who are paying to come in here. For me. Alone. Where no one else can see her.
The bar is filling up this time of night and she’s drawing glances from some swinging dicks. “If you want to talk about the job, we’ll have to do so in my office.” I shift a half turn away from her and extend my arm toward the hall where I just came from. Her eyes dart from my face to where I’m gesturing, then they narrow but she steps forward. “Right this way.” I fall in next to her, my head swiveling around to make sure no one else is dogging on her.
I may be losing my fucking mind because I don’t even want eyes on her. She’s making me crazy with need. The thoughts that are going through my head would get me fucking arrested. I haven’t thought about a woman like this before. And I mean not ever.
I take a deep draw of the air above her head. There is a sweet, subtle, candy-like scent floating around. Like cotton candy, but it’s more. Something that’s latched onto me so deep, it’s drawing out an animal that feels dangerous.
We get to the hallway door and I step forward, opening it and ushering her down toward my office without a word. We’re both silent, but we’re having a conversation here. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Under the florescent light of the hallway, I practically fall to my fucking knees and start to praise God. Her thick ass fills out a pleated schoolgirl skirt, and it’s been paired with white, thigh high socks and those crazy pink shoes. If it wasn’t so fucking sexy, it would be hilarious.
She’s trying to kill me.
I’ve known this girl for three minutes and my heart is about to clench up and drop me right here.
Allister steps out of his office, right into our path, and May stops in her tracks when she sees him.
“Wow,” she says with excitement, and for the first time in our entire friendship, I fucking hate him.
“Hi.” Allister looks from her to me, pushing out his bottom lip. I’ve never brought a girl down here unless they were already working here and he knows it. My office is generally off limits unless you are in trouble. We have a conference room for meetings and shit. If the staff need to talk to me they don’t normally come knocking on my office door. That’s my space, and it may be my OCD but I don’t want just anyone in there.
“Move,” I growl as I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her around Allister. Just the brush of my fingertips against her starts my blood coursing, and there’s this one word that’s pulsing in my mind and through my veins.
Mine.
“Need any help there, boss?” he chides me from behind. He knows me well enough to see that something is going on.
“Fine.”
“Wow, you guys are big around here.” May looks at Allister then up at me, and I realize just how tiny she is next to my six feet five inches. I could carry her around like a doll on my hip. I’m not a muscle bound gym rat, but I’m built. I’ve got solid thick muscle up top and I’m leaner on the bottom, but I’m still imposing, especially when you are snack-sized like her.
“Right here.” I motion to my office door, punching my code into the keypad lock and the door snaps open.
“High tech.” She smiles and nods at me, and my head starts to spin. “I’m impressed.” She steps into the office as I follow, shutting the door behind us. “This isn’t anything like I thought a strip club would be. It’s super clean.” She spins in a slow circle looking around my office, wide eyed. Stark, cold. Institutional. It’s the way I’ve always been, or perhaps the Marines did it to me; I don’t really remember any more.
“You’ve never seen a code lock before? And, this isn’t a strip club. No one strips here.” The way she talks, the clothes, this naïve sweetness—something tells me there is a story here and more than anything I want to know it from beginning to end.
“I don’t get out much.” She does this little shoulder shrug that tells me what you see is what you get with her. There is no pretense, no shades of embarrassment. I can’t help myself, the pull is too strong.
I step into her space. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t show any fear when I put my hands on her cheeks, lean down and devour her mouth with mine.
She doesn’t kiss me back, but she doesn’t push away either. My tongue slices between her lips, and I feel the ground shake when she softens under me and I taste her for the first time.
Her flavor sears into my soul, marking me as I mark her. My fingers settle on the back of her neck, feeling the warmth grow as I let out a low groan and pull back from her sweet taste, staring down to see her reaction.
“Was that part of the interview?” Her matter of fact question has me reeling.
“No. You’re already hired. That was something else.”
The look of shock, the thrill in her face is almost more than I can take. There is an ache in my balls that I’ve never felt before. They want to empty into her until the whole world knows whom she belongs to.
“Great! So what time do I need to be here and what time will I get off work? I need to check the bus schedule.”
It’s hard to believe a girl like her takes the bus, but before I can decide what my next move is, there’s a knock on the door.
“Go away,” I grunt, as I drop my hands from her.
My eyes are still pinned on May as her fingers come up to dance on her still open lips and her eyes drag toward the door. She scoots one foot slightly forward and back, tapping it,
and I swear her eyes are glowing.
“It’s Cindy.” A voice cuts through the solid steel door.
Fuck.
Cindy is one of the managers here. She’s also sort of the den mother who takes care of a lot of the girls when they are having problems. She came up through one of my first clubs. Before I took her in she was addicted to crack, turning tricks just to get the cash. I took her off the street and now she is in charge of nearly forty girls, and she keeps the wheels turning around here.
“Come in,” I grumble, pissed off that someone is bothering me in my office without calling first and interrupting this . . . this what? I shake my head. This defining fucking moment in the lives of me and my May.
My May? I’m fucking gone over this little thing and I don’t even know her last name.
I hear the soft beeps of the code lock. Cindy has her own entry code, but she knows never to come in without knocking. Like I said, I don’t like people coming to my office, so I’m surprised as fuck that she’s knocking my door down right now. It must be important though, so I pause and look up when she comes in.
“Excuse me, May. This will only take a moment. Why don’t you have a seat?” I point to one of the plush, cream-velvet chairs in front of my new desk. She lets out this little peep of agreement as she turns and tosses her jacket over the back of one of the chairs. It looks smooth until she misses and it crumples to the floor with a little psfffft sound. She leaves it there, sits down in the other chair, and points her toes together, settling her hands in her lap, and I swear she’s humming Rick James’ “Super Freak”.
May
Wow. I keep saying that word over and over.
But wow.
Wow.
Wow.
This place is not what I expected. At all.
But I can’t even concentrate on the place. Or the job.
This guy. Man.
