by Laura Day
However, The Prophets had a reputation, and it wasn't wholesome. This man could be dangerous, but then again, he could also just be a well-paying customer. Money was money, and I couldn't discriminate based on rumors. Besides, there was something about him that made it hard to look away. He was older, wiser, and the age lines around his eyes made him look kind, in a strange sort of way.
I dropped my skirt, expecting his gaze to travel down to my girly bits, but he surprised me and kept staring into my eyes. I wiggled, turned around, bent over, and showed him my ass. Nothing. Not even a glint of a smile.
I realized that I was wasting my time with this one. There were others out there - others who wanted my time and attention, and were willing to pay for it. After one last wink in his direction, I turned to walk away, but then he placed a one hundred dollar bill on the railing in front of him.
He wanted me to stay.
Not one to turn down cash, I crawled down into his lap. I knew I was breaking a thousand different rules since I wasn’t wearing any panties, but the club would look the other way, as they always did. I gyrated against his hard-on and stifled a moan – he was big and thick.
As I ground myself against his cock, he continued to stare straight into my eyes. I grinned seductively as I wiggled against his crotch, nearly taking him inside of me – it was only the fabric of his jeans that kept it from happening. A part of me hated that his cock wasn’t inside of me because it was bound to be amazing. But I wasn't a hooker. I'd never be a hooker. Even I had standards – low as they might be right now.
“You like?” I murmured in his ear, nibbling at the lobe.
“Hell yes,” he said, his voice as gruff as his appearance.
“Would you like to slip away to somewhere for a private show?”
“Maybe later,” he replied, handing me a wad of bills.
Later wasn't going to happen tonight. My stage time was up, and soon, my shift would be over. Laila's babysitter could only stay until midnight because she had class in the morning.
But tonight had been a good night. Neither Laila nor I would go hungry, so there was that. And my rent would be paid for another week, at least, thanks to the stoic biker. Something told me that I'd be seeing him again.
I was surprised to find that I hoped to, and not just for the money either.
Chapter Three
Valencia
“Queenie, you have someone asking about you,” Angel said, not looking up from the mirror as she applied her eyeliner. “I tried to tell him you wouldn't be on until later and offered to help him, but no – he only wants you.”
“Thanks, Angel,” I said, trying to ignore her bitter, snippy tone.
I put my bag away as I tried to hurry up and change. There was money to be made, and I couldn't leave a customer waiting. Besides, a part of me was hoping it was a certain someone from a few nights ago. But honestly, it could be anyone. I had a few guys who often asked for me. Many of them would have probably taken Angel up on her offer too, though.
Not wanting to lose whoever it was to one of the other girls, I quickly changed out of my yoga pants and t-shirt, slipping into something a little sexier. I pulled a skin-tight dress from my bag. It was black like most of my clothing. I'd walk around the club a bit, at least until it was time to hop on stage. The dress was sexy – it showed off my curves – while still leaving a little to the imagination. It would hopefully help me lure a few guys into a private room for a show.
Slipping on the dress, I stared into the mirror. I'd applied most of my makeup before leaving the hotel, but needed to touch up my lipstick –bright red, of course – and let my hair down from the ponytail it was in. My hair was longer than when I'd left Ricky two months ago and now fell to the middle of my back. It was thick and wavy, intentionally so, and fell around my shoulders, obscuring part of my face, lending me a mysterious, seductive quality.
I thought that maybe the reason why I kept my hair long, and my clothes black, was because I wanted to stay hidden. I wanted to make sure no one saw me – at least not for who I really was.
“You're just gonna keep him waiting like that?” Angel asked, side-eyeing me.
She was right. He was waiting for me – whoever “he” was.
“No, I just wanted to finish getting ready. I do try to look my best,” I replied, my tone dripping with sass.
That wasn't like me; I try to be polite and lay low. Keep to myself. But Angel's attitude was seriously getting to me. I turned and left the dressing room without another word, walking out to the club floor.
I had no idea who I was looking for, and the room was dark and filled with smoke. Hopefully, he'd call out to me because honestly, I saw so many men every night; they'd all started to look the same. My eyes scanned the crowd for one specific face – the one from the other night. If he wanted to see me again, that meant even more money in my pocket. Who knew, I might actually be able to get ahead on the rent for my room if that happened.
“Hey Queenie,” a voice called out.
It was Tyrone. I smiled, slinking over to him, and wondered if it was him who'd asked for me. There was another girl on his lap – Trinity – and I didn't want to butt in on her business. Trinity, like me, was fairly new. I didn't know her that well, but unlike Angel, she gave me no reason to hate her. She didn't even look twenty-one and had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a Southern accent. Hard to compete with that.
“Hi Tyrone,” I purred. I didn't want to ask if he were the one looking for me. Because if he wasn't, well, that would just be rude. “Having fun?”
“Don't you know it,” he said, grinning from ear-to-ear.
“Trinity will take good care of you, I'm sure,” I said, smiling at the girl.
She gave me a look that said “thank you” as I dismissed myself. I made my way through most of the club and figured I'd missed whoever it was that had been looking for me. They probably left or found another girl to keep them company in a private room. I started to head over to a table of three twenty-something-year-old guys, who looked like they had too much money to burn, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.
The biker from the other night.
He was alone in a dark corner, nursing a drink. His eyes were on me, though. Something in them looked unsettling like I was the prey, and he was the predator. Sure, I'd had men come in with that sort of mentality before, but it was nothing like this. None of them had such sheer intensity.
For a brief moment, I considered sneaking away to the back room and hiding. But that was silly. I needed the money, and he was obviously free, so why the hell not?
I approached the table, beaming as I sat down opposite him. His eyes never left mine.
“Here to take me up on that private dance?”
The faintest of smiles crossed his face, but it was only there for a second. “Of course. I'm a man of my word, after all.”
“Never one to leave a girl hanging?” I leaned forward, giving him a nice shot of my boobs.
His eyes only wavered for a moment before moving back to my eyes. His gaze was unflinching, almost too much eye contact. I had to look away, temporarily, to collect my thoughts.
“You could say that,” he said, taking a long drink of whatever was in his glass. It smelled like whiskey from here. “So about this private dance...”
“Follow me,” I said, as I bit my bottom lip, and motioned with my finger for him to come hither.
We stood up and walked to a private room, hand-in-hand.
“I never got your name, stranger.”
“Mercer,” he said quietly. “You can call me Mercer.”
“Ahh, well I'm Queenie – ”
“I know,” he replied, cutting me off.
“I figured you did, it's just standard to introduce myself before we go into a private room, you know.”
I winked at him as we walked past the towering bouncer. Leon might be as tall as Mercer, but he wasn't as large and built. Honestly, I wasn't sure the bouncer could do much “bouncing�
� if things went sideways and it came down to it with Mercer. The thought gave me a tiny chill and a sense of foreboding.
“This way, please,” I instructed, sitting Mercer down in the corner of the room.
I crawled into his lap, letting him breathe in my scent as I pushed our privates together, preparing for the dance. However, Mercer surprised me when he took my arms and stopped me.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.
“No, not at all,” he said. “I'd just like to get to know you a bit more, Queenie.”
Biting my lip, I slid from his lap and sat down in the chair across from him, confused. The room was dark, but I could see his face in the soft, dim red lights. He watched me closely. There wasn't much talking done in these rooms usually – not unless a guy somehow got it in his mind that a stripper might actually want to date him.
I didn't usually get paid to chat, but one thing I learned is that you never turn down a guy willing to part with a wad of cash. You never know what he might have up his sleeve.
“Okay then,” I said with a smile. “What would you like to know, Mercer?”
“You new in town?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Why?” I asked back teasingly. “Do I not seem like the Vegas type to you?”
“Not really. He stroked his scruffy not-yet-a-beard. “And I haven't seen you around here before.”
“Regular customer at Ace of Hearts, are ya?”
A small smirk touched his lips. “No, it's not really my scene.”
“It appears to be your scene now,” I purred, rubbing my leg up against his calf. “Besides, if you're not here often, how do you know I haven't been around?”
“Just a hunch,” he replied. “So do you have a boyfriend? A husband perhaps?”
“A good stripper is always single,” I told him, winking.
“But what about you?”
Maybe he did think we could go somewhere with all of this – somewhere that wasn't just bumping and grinding for money in a private room. So many men seemed to have these ideas that strippers were really into them. But Mercer seemed smarter than that. He seemed wise enough to know when a woman was only flirting with him for the bills in his wallet. And yet, he'd asked me the question like he was genuinely curious to see where things could go between us. And he seemed to want to know.
“As luck would have it, I am,” I finally said. “How about you, Mercer?”
This time, he shrugged. “Don't have time for the drama that usually comes with women.”
“Then why are you so inquisitive about my relationship status?”
Mercer didn't answer me. Instead, he looked at me and asked another question, “Do you have any kids?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. “If you're not interested in dating me,” I said dryly, “why does it matter if I have kids or not? Or if I'm single?”
Again, he didn't answer. His face looked sweet, almost kind. I wanted to trust him; I even thought a guy like him wouldn't be too bad to have around. I could see myself with someone like him – a big, brute of a man with a heart of gold. That is if he really did have a heart of gold. It was hard to tell, and his questions were getting too personal.
My mind shot back to Laila – poor, sweet Laila. As much as I hated her not having a father in her life, I had to protect her first and foremost. If this guy was a creeper, I couldn't let him get to her. So I lied.
“No children,” I said. “Now are you through with your questions? Because time is just about up and I don't want you to feel cheated.”
As much as I wanted to sound strong-willed, my voice wavered. When I stood up, my knees felt weak, my legs shook, and I wobbled in my heels a bit. Mercer reached out to steady me, but I pulled away from his touch.
“Thank you, Mercer, for your time, but I really must be going,” I told him.
His dark eyes watched me, a serious look on his face as if he was contemplating whether or not he should let me go. He was confident, bordering on cocky like he knew the bouncer at the door would be no match for him if I called for help. He seemed to know that if he didn't want me to leave the room, I wouldn't be able to.
I turned to leave.
“I didn't mean to waste your time, Valencia,” he said. “I'm sorry about that.”
Hearing my real name – not Queenie – stopped me in my tracks. As I turned back around to meet his gaze, Mercer put the cash on the table. A large wad of bills. My eyes went from the money back to him, and I wondered what I should say. How did he know my name? What did that mean? My heart thundered in my chest, but for some strange reason, I didn't feel threatened.
But before I could find the words to ask him, Mercer quietly walked from the room, closing the door with a gentle click behind him.
Chapter Four
Valencia
Stepping out onto the stage, I looked for Mercer as panic bubbled within me. The questions swirled around in my brain – how did he know my real name? Was he a danger to Laila and me? Or had I perhaps, simply slipped up at some point and used my real name? Maybe Angel or one of the other girls had told him? We weren't allowed to give our real names at the club, but I could see Angel doing something like that out of sheer spite because she doesn't like me. I had no idea how he knew my real name, but I wanted answers.
But if I were being honest, looking for him was more than just wanting answers. There was something about him that drew me in like a moth to a flame – isn't that the old cliché people use?
I knew that he couldn't be good news – not with his ties to The Prophets. But silly old me still had a thing for the bad boys – I guess I never learned. But God knew, I was going to have to teach Laila to do better than me. To find herself a nice guy, someone who treats her well. Respects her. Someone the complete opposite of her father, and most likely Mercer too.
Not that I knew enough about him to judge, but I knew his type and to stay away.
But that was easier said than done when he was a patron of my club.
My eyes drifted around the room as I sought him out. The lights were blinding, but I searched – or tried to search, at least – while I danced to some hip-hop number I was barely hearing. As I was about to give up hope, thinking that maybe he'd left, I spotted him. There he was, out in the crowd, at the back this time. But he was still watching me just as intently, sitting by himself in a dark corner, and sipping a drink.
It was hard to focus on those throwing money at me when he was just out of reach. I so badly yearned for him to come forward, to get him near the front where I could see him. But I'd have to wait until after I left the stage. Maybe then I could get some answers – and just be close to him.
Tyrone had brought a friend, a guy named Jason who'd come in with him a few times, and they both had their dollar bills out. As much as I wanted to focus all my attention on Mercer, I couldn't ignore them; that's not what I was paid to do. I reluctantly tore my eyes off Mercer and turned them on Tyrone and Jason.
Jason was a dorky looking white guy with bright red hair and freckles. He and Tyrone couldn't be more different, but yet, they somehow had obviously found enough in common to be friends. Jason licked his lips as I crawled toward them and took the ten-dollar bill from his hand with my mouth. Their eyes were on my cleavage, but not for long. I turned around, showing off my tight little ass as I spanked it. That inspired both of them to tuck some cash into my G-string.
It was enough for me to climb down off the stage and onto their laps, teasing them with just a taste of what they could get in a private room – if they wanted to pay just a little bit more. First, I focused on Jason.
“You're beautiful,” he said, his breathing shallow and ragged as he adjusted his glasses. “And you smell so nice.”
“Thank you,” I said, nipping his ear as I settled down onto his lap.
His hands were held out to his sides awkwardly as if he didn't know what to do with them. Touching was considered off-limits for the most part, at least below the waist. I grabbed
his hands and moved them to my breasts, letting him touch them. The expression on his face was that of a virgin touching his first pair of titties– and I thought he was going to climax in his pants right then and there.
“They're real,” he choked out.
