by Ashley Logan
His stomach growled as he reached for his cellphone, and he decided to treat himself to a juicy steak dinner on his way home, instead of a low-fat ready-meal lasagna that smelled like regurgitated cheese. Feeling pretty good, he planned on a night of lounging around with a good book, before going to bed early. He just needed to know if Gina was okay first, to set his mind at ease.
Serge: How’s your head today?
She responded quickly.
Gina: Fine - now! Never drinking again.
He smiled.
Serge: That’s what you said last time. Everything okay though? You’re healing well and all that?
Gina: Yes Mom. How was your day? The workshop go well?
Serge: Very well. Kels did her usual awesome job while I frowned, or nodded for emphasis and grilled them at the end. Standard. Anyway, just thought I’d check in. Your chair is lonely.
It was better than saying he was lonely, but she’d know what he meant.
Gina: I want to sit on that chair so bad.
Serge felt his face flush and looked up to make sure he was alone. He was sure she meant that she was missing work; Gina had a great work ethic, but her words had immediately filled his head with images of her sitting on him. With enthusiasm. With shaky fingers he tapped out his message.
Serge: I guess you’re really missing work, huh?
Gina: Yeah, work and my chair. You off to the gym?
What did that mean? Was it code, or nothing? He wished they could just be open so he knew how it really was.
Serge: Steak dinner with all the sides and home to bed actually. Need an early night.
Gina: All the sides? You must really be working up an appetite with Vi. I thought the gym was your routine now? Try not to fall into old habits. X
Frowning at his phone, Serge fought to keep his mood from dropping. He’d skipped lunch and didn’t think it terrible for man of his size and muscle to fill the gap with a healthy dose of protein and enjoy an infrequent treat of fries. He’d been looking forward to it - he almost never felt that way about food.
He wasn’t falling into old habits, just wanted to enjoy a nice meal, guilt-free, because he didn’t feel like punishing himself today. For once. That was quickly changing as he read Gina’s words again.
She’d brought up Vi again too. Was she jealous, or just teasing? And the X? Was that friendly, or more?
With each confused thought, his mood continued to sour. Tapping out - Gym it is - he threw his phone into his satchel. Yanking his bottom desk drawer open, he grabbed his gym bag - pre-packed for just such an emergency, and went to change.
Running to the gym, he drilled himself through harsh circuits until he was drenched, before running back to the station to shower and change. Filling up on water, he blinked away the darkness at the edge of his vision and sat in his chair until his head cleared a little.
Taking out his phone, he saw two messages.
Gina: Good boy.
Vi: How was your day? Make any new friends? Hope you weren’t too tired - make sure you eat properly to keep up your energy. Also, let me know if you’re free this weekend - I’ve got a few things on, but was hoping to see you some time.
Ignoring Gina’s text, he read Violet’s again and smiled as he thumbed out a message.
Serge: Who are you? My ma, or my conscience?
Vi: I’m like, the hottest chick in Buffalo, bitch. Eat something.
He laughed a little out loud as he imagined her standing with her hands on her hips and her eyebrow twitching up as she said it.
Serge: Yes ma'am. Have a good night. Stay safe.
Vi: You got it, Detective.
Smiling, he slid the phone into his pocket and took out some change. Slinging his bags over his shoulder, he stopped at the vending machine for a bag of skittles on his way out, ignoring the note taped to the glass at his eye level that read ‘Don’t do it.’ Gina had stuck it there a few years ago when she was helping him lose the weight he’d piled on after Sadie had left. Tipping a handful of Skittles into his mouth, he chewed happily as his head became clearer.
CHAPTER TWELVE
VIOLET
Smiling as I pocket my phone, I lie on my bed, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I’m pretty sure I’m flirting with Serge, and though I think I want to be, I imagine it won’t end well. He’s hooked on the end of someone else’s line. Cursing my sex-deprived brain, I remind myself that I’m enjoying his friendship and I don’t want to mess that up. The thought barely holds any weight as the idea of undressing Serge and pulling myself along his hard body shoves it aside.
I wasn’t kidding when I’d told him I’d enjoyed our entanglement as much as he clearly had. The sensation of wrapping my legs around such a large, firm man had me craving more. The fact that it was Serge made it nearly unbearable. After he’d left, I’d practically run to my room to finish myself off, though battery power had done little to sate my appetite.
Pushing lusty thoughts aside, I try to convince myself they’re due to a lack of physical contact and that I need to rein myself in before I step over a line. Grabbing my robe, I head for the shower.
I’m dancing tonight; of that much, I’m sure. My inner vixen is growling. She wants to seduce and if I keep her locked up, she’ll find a way to break loose and wreak havoc. Better to let her live a little in a controlled environment. Less risk.
Fresh and pampered, I leave the bathroom bumping into Kat in the hall. Running her eyes over my freshly shaved legs, her gaze lingers on my face. Smiling, she nods approval at my apparent recovery from this week’s knock to my confidence. “You want me to do your hair?”
“That’d be great,” I say, returning her smile. “I was thinking something extra hot tonight. Sleek and sexy?”
Chewing her lip, she unravels the towel turban on my head, leaving my dark hair in long waves around my face. “You’re sure?” she asks, moving locks this way and that. “You get any hotter and we’ll be hosing them down before you even start moving.”
Snorting, I give her an arched eyebrow. “Whatever, Kat. Can you help or not? You know I suck at hair. I’ll trade you for makeup?”
Narrowing her eyes, she gives me a cheeky grin. “Will you give me those smoky-eyes that say I’d fuck you, but you’ll have to get in line?”
“The line will be around the block.”
“Deal,” she says, literally skipping to her room for her tools, her own auburn locks flowing behind her. Kat works two days a week at The Mighty Halo - a salon downtown, and her talents with regard to hair, put the rest of us to shame.
“I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” I call over my shoulder as I slip my feet into my slippers and head downstairs.
“Dancing tonight Vi?” Bruno asks on his way up as he steps to one side to let me pass.
“Yup. Need to. Gotta unleash the beast before she gets me into trouble.”
He laughs. “I knew what I walked in on last night was foreplay!”
“Was not!” I argue, stopping on the bottom step. “We were just mucking around after a serious conversation. Besides, Serge is into someone else; he’s not interested in me.”
Bruno shakes his head and keeps walking up the stairs as he laughs quietly. “Oh, he’s interested,” he mutters, making my inner vixen perk up. Damn. I’m going to set the stage on fire tonight if I don’t get her under control.
I know from experience that I can influence a room with my need. It comes shining through my dancing; an advertisement for hot sex, like a bitch in heat. When I’m dancing, I can feel a whole room of eyes fixing on my every move. I sense the men edging closer, seats tilting toward me, their nostrils flaring for my scent.
I’m not going to lie; I get off on it.
Knowing I can do that to men makes me feel powerful. I need that. I can flirt as much as I like, and the club environment prevents anything bad from happening to me. Beyond The Horny Buffalo is a club that demands respect for its dancers. No respect; no admittance, and our dancers keep them always wan
ting more, so it’s in a customer’s best interest to behave.
Not everyone does behave. They’re the ones that get significantly roughed up on their way out and get themselves on the list. Every now and then someone will recognize us in the real world without our stage makeup and make a bad play - like Josh-the-asshole-Winston, but mostly, our customers stick to the rules, knowing we’ll welcome them back with a show worth seeing.
Nina looks up as I enter the dressing room. “Hey, Vi. You dancing?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Studying me a while, she adds my name to the clipboard in her hand and hangs it back on the wall. Checking the list, I see my name at the end.
“You want me on last?”
Giving me a hard look, she nods. “That way you can back out if you want to, without throwing off the others,” she says with a small shrug. “But if I’m reading you right, you’re going to earn a lot of tips tonight and if I put you out too soon, all the men will be broke before they’ve had time to spend at the bar. One dance only, and no group acts. End of the night is your spot tonight.”
Blushing a little from both the compliment, and the fact that I must be radiating lust-vibes like crazy, I give a quick nod as I slink past. “Thanks Prez.”
“Good to have you back, Vi,” she says, smiling warmly. “Tell me, how are things coming along with rehearsals? I’m sorry I’ve been too busy organizing to drop in when you guys are creating. I’d love to see how it’s all coming along.”
The Beyond dancers and several other artists are performing at the grand, old Shea’s Buffalo Theater for a high-class benefit, raising awareness and funds for those supporting reductions in domestic violence. The Women’s Justice Center needs an injection of funding in order to implement a ‘Safer Homes’ initiative in schools across the county, and hopefully statewide. Nina and the Beyond crew are playing a huge role in the evening. We’re hoping to not only sell out the theater, but schmooze extra financial support for the cause after the show, with a cocktail party for those I like to call the ‘high-rollers’ - those supporters with boatloads of cash, looking to make a donation to look good to their buddies, and get the tax write-off that accompanies it.
“We’re borrowing the gym at the Rec midday Saturday, if you’ve got time to swing by. Things are going pretty well, I think.” Pausing, I recall our last session and have to correct myself. “Well the first two pieces are going alright, but the third is missing something. I just think the heart isn’t there yet, but we’ll keep working on it,” I assure her, not wanting her to think we won’t be ready. She has so much else on her plate, she doesn’t need any extra stress. Nina is like a one woman charity event. There isn’t a minute she isn’t cooking up or running some scheme to help people in need.
Beyond is just another of her ideas. She bought the old club hoping to turn it into something that enriched the community. Most people think strip clubs are dank holes for perverts to touch themselves in the dark, or where glittered-up gals will rub themselves against you for a fee, but what Nina has created, is so much more.
After working for years with abuse survivors, Nina realized there was a need for a safe environment in which these struggling souls could explore and express themselves. Not shying away from the taboo topics of sex and sexuality - some of the biggest issues for new adults to come to terms with, she created a kind of halfway-house for confused young people to find their feet and embrace themselves despite any trauma they may have experienced.
Room and board is free and there’s work in the bar, or on stage if you want, or need it, as some of us truly do. She has made it clear that dancing is a personal choice and is for empowerment, not exploitation. The only thing Nina asks in return for this support, is for us to help others. She doesn’t care what we choose, so long as we donate some time and effort to helping those in our community.
Smiling at me, she makes a note in her day-planner, muttering “midday Saturday,” out loud. “I’ll be there. Hey Kat,” she says, without looking up from her diary as Kat approaches.
“Hey Prez. Going on tonight?” Kat asks as she juggles her armful of gear to get through the door.
Nina shakes her head. “No time tonight. Calls to make, marketing strategies to consider. Nate’s in the kitchen tonight and Q’s helping Benji behind the bar.”
“Okay, but all work and no play...” Kat trails off, with a wink and a smile. “Been a while since you had a night off, Prez. Just saying.”
Laughing, Nina packs her notes and planner back into her bag and stands up. “If you mean it’s been a long time since I went on a date, I know. You’re about as subtle as a brick, Kat. When I find a guy worth setting some time aside for, I will. Until then, I’ve got work to do.” Patting her bag as evidence, she gives us a wave and heads out. Likely she’d be heading up to her tiny apartment on the top floor to work until the small hours.
“I worry about that woman sometimes,” Kat says, watching her go.
“You worry about everyone all of the time,” I correct. Turning back to the mirror, I frame my eyes as she pulls a face at me. Watching me a moment in the mirror, she lets out a whistle.
“Holy smoke. I better put the fire extinguisher next to the stage,” she jokes, reaching for the line-up board. “Phew. You’re on last. There’s no way I’d want to follow you tonight!” Sorting her weapons of hair-do construction, she smiles at me in the mirror as Teeny and Nat arrive.
“You singing tonight Nat?” I ask, out of habit. Natalia’s intensely blue-green eyes light up at the thought of it, but the glow soon fades and she drops her gaze, shaking her head. No.
“That’s too bad,” I say keeping my voice light. “Maybe tomorrow.”
With a small nod, she takes a seat in the chair next to me and gives me a shy smile. “Keep asking,” she says in her thick Estonian accent. “One day I will be saying yes.” Watching me a minute, her eyes widen. “When does the Vixen dance tonight?” she calls over her shoulder to Teeny, who’s flicking through costumes on the rack next to the line-up clipboard.
“Last,” she answers, leaning out to catch a glimpse of me. “Luckily for us, I think,” she adds.
Nat smiles and nods, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Will be grand finale, no?”
Blushing, I lean closer to the mirror. “Prez did it so I can back out if I need to,” I say defensively.
“We can all back out whenever we like,” Kat says with a huge grin. “Prez put you there because you’re horny as hell and you’re going to make a killing when you make every guy in the room think it’s because of them. Got someone on your mind, Vi?”
Feeling my cheeks burning impossibly hotter, I keep my mouth shut.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the saucy detective that shared your bed the other day, would it?” Scar says, coming to stand behind me. Unable to hide from her heart-melting smile, I shrug.
“We didn’t do anything.”
“That’ll be why you’re still horny,” Ireeni chimes in with a giggle as she sets her cosmetics case on the counter.
Scar watches me closely and bends to my ear. “Maybe you didn’t, but you want to.”
“Okay! Enough. Yes, I’m horny and yeah, I’d love it if someone sweet like Serge would roll around with me, but it’s complicated, so just let me dance it out and we’ll all be better for it.”
“Sweet?” Teeny asks, coming closer. “I would’ve said smokin’ hot with muscles. The guy doesn’t even need to flex to form a bicep. He’s sweet too?”
Grabbing my hair in my fists, I spin around. “Oh my god, Bettina! Please don’t make this any more torturous for me. I’m trying not to think about him!”
They all crowd closer. “Why?” Scar asks, a knowing smile on her painted lips.
“Because I can’t have him, so just leave it, okay?” Exasperated, I catch a break as Alexa walks in the door. “Hey Lex, how’d you go with that mechanic from Benji’s workshop?”
The spotlight on me, turns and swoops in on her. Smili
ng as Alexa keeps them occupied with graphic details of her date last night, I finish my makeup.
“Don’t think you’ve escaped that easily,” Scar whispers. “You and I are talking about this later.”
Hoping she falls asleep before we get the chance, I give a resigned sigh. “Maybe after that, we can talk about Bruno,” I whisper back.
Her expression becomes confused. Leaning in, she squints at me a little. “What about Bruno?”
“Like you don’t know!”
Looking around, Scar sees everyone else is too caught up in Lex’s tales to be paying us any mind.
“You want him too?” she asks, clearly not impressed. “I mean, he might look like a god and protect us well enough, but he’s got something smartass-y to say about everything. The guy’s a jerk.”
“I wasn’t meaning me Scar, but whatever,” I say, ending the conversation. They’ll sort it out when they’re ready.
Staring at me a while longer, Scar looks hilariously confused and doesn’t push any further. I take pity and change the subject.
“You want help with your makeup? I’m doing Kat’s eyes, but you’re on before she is, so I can do you first if you like?”
“Would you?” she asks, clearly relieved. “I’m no good at any of this dress up stuff. I’m just here to ride the pole.”
That causes a few laughs from around the room. We all know Scar’s here to build up her confidence. She doesn’t like talking about it, but she finds it incredibly difficult to accept her scarred body, or drop her clothes during intimate encounters. Hiding behind the makeup and her alter-ego ‘Phoenix’ is currently the only way she will bare herself in front of anyone.
Everyone is seriously getting their faces on now. Music is already playing in the club, which means the doors are open and the show will start soon. Finishing Scar’s makeup I shoo her out of the chair and wave Kat in.
“Your hair looks amazing Kat! How the hell do you braid like that on your own head?”
“Lots and lots of practice,” she replies, her eyes widening in expression. “And I thought I was pretty good at makeup too, but no-one can do sexy eyes like you. Does your mom work in the cosmetic industry?”
