by Terry Towers
Chapter 6
“Eric! Sam!” I looked from one surprised and disappointed face to the other and back again. At least, it looked like disappointment to me, but then again, I was too flustered to gauge anything at that moment.
Again, it hit me that I was virtually naked, and my stepbrothers were feasting their eyes on all of me. Every single inch. Quickly, I gathered up the money and discarded costume and rushed off the stage. As I fled through the curtain, my heart thudding in my chest, I let out a sigh of relief. They were still out there, and I feared they’d be there until either the club closed or they saw me again. It would have to be the former, because there was no way I was going out into the crowd to have the confrontation with them here.
“You did great.” I felt a strong clap on my shoulder.
My gaze met Vince’s, and I gave him a sheepish grin, my cheeks growing warm. “Thanks.”
I began walking away from him giving the girl who was about to go on a timid smile as we walked past each other. I had one thought and one thought only—get the fuck out of here.
But the club manager was on my heels. “So I’d like to see you back here tomorrow night.”
“I umm…” I began grabbing the bills from my panties. “I don’t know.”
“What?” He placed himself between me and the dressing room door. “Why not?” He looked down at my fistful of money, grinning. “You did great!” I had to give credit where credit was due, unlike the sleazy strip clubs you hear about, he didn’t oogle, me despite my being more or less naked. His focus seemed to be strictly on the business.
Looking down at the money, I had to admit, it had been a good haul. My rough estimate would be maybe 400 dollars! Pretty damned good. What did he say he’d get for a cut? 20 percent, something like that. Between the price of admission, drinks, and then the club’s cut of the tips, the strip club was making a killing. If our club was even making half of what they were here, we’d have no money worries. We’d be back in the black and turning a profit in no time.
“It’s not that.” I finished, pulling the bills from my panties and neatly piled them in my hand.
“Are you worried about the lap dances?”
Lap dances? Shit, I hadn’t even considered that.
“None of the girls are required to do lap dances. It’s just extra cash for the ones who do.”
Were my stepbrothers getting lap dances right now? In my mind’s eye, I could envision one of the women from the changing room gyrating on Sam or Eric’s lap, getting them hard, making them come. I’ll admit it, it filled me with jealousy. I’d never felt jealousy like that before over any of the women they’d dated. Perhaps a tingle or two, but not full blown jealousy. What had changed?
Sam. A voice in the back of my head chimed in.
Giving my head a shake, I forced Sam from my mind. I didn’t need those thoughts right now.
“How about giving it another shot tomorrow? I won’t even ask for the club’s cut for tomorrow, just so you can get a taste of the money you can make. The crowd really liked you, and I’d like to add you to the normal lineup.”
Looking down at the money again, I sighed. I had no idea what kind of reaction to expect when I got home and had to face my brothers. I was dreading it. No doubt they’d be upset, disappointed, surprised—I could see it in their eyes when I looked down and locked gazes with them.
But maybe there was something more to be learned about this business? Should I just shrug that off? It could be a way to save The Foxy. I looked up from my fist full of cash to the manager. “I’ll let you know by tomorrow afternoon, that’s the best I can promise.”
He frowned, certainly not impressed. If he pressed the issue, it would be a flat-out no.
I waited. He opened his mouth, no doubt to attempt to persuade me into an answer right here and now, but seemed to rethink it and snapped it shut again.
“Fine.” He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a business card. “On the back is my personal cell number. Call me.” He wagged his finger at me. “By noon, or consider the offer off the table.”
Nodding, I smiled. “Of course.”
“And if you want to work here, I need your info for personnel. We run a legit business here.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
Without another word, he spun and left down the corridor he’d brought me from. Just as he turned the corner and went out of sight, the door behind me was flung open and smacked me square on the back, sending me stumbling forward on my heels. Luckily, I was able to steady myself on the opposite wall, though I did end up dropping my hard-earned, sweaty cash.
“Shit, fuck. Sorry.” A woman I hadn’t seen earlier bent down and helped me gather the bills. A vibrant red curl fell over her eye, and she blew it back. It was no use, the curl just returned to its position over her eyes.
“It’s okay.” I gave her a smile of reassurance. “I should have known better than to be standing in front of a closed door.”
She returned my smile, passing the bills she’d gathered for me. “You’re the new girl, right?”
My cheeks grew warm. “Well, I’m not sure if I’d call myself the new girl just yet. I’m just trying it out.”
“You’ll be back.” She gave me a wink and raked her hand through her hair, pushing it back. “The money is addictive.” With a wave, she scurried off in the direction of the stage.
Indeed, the money could become addictive. I had no doubt of that. I had to wonder if the same went for porn stars? Did the money become so addictive that they lost sight of a future beyond adult acting until it was too late? Time had a way of going by so quickly, and in a blink of an eye, I’d be in my thirties, then forties, and so on… It was at that moment I realized one thing—I couldn’t quit school. I needed to go on, just in case. Which meant one important thing: the situation with The Foxy needed to be figured out, one way or another.
And that brought me back to my current situation. Stripping. Hmm. Everyone seemed friendly. That was nice. Another stereotype I’d had about strip clubs was that it was a dog-eat-dog world, and maybe I was wrong on that as well. But then again, I was new and not a threat...yet. Their attitudes could certainly change. Either way, it wouldn’t matter. I wasn’t a stripper. I didn’t want to be a stripper. It was a stupid, crazy thing I’d done. Never to be repeated.
Entering the dressing room, I went straight to the locker I’d crammed my stuff into and opened it. Quickly, I got undressed and put on my regular clothes. Once dressed, I gathered the costume I’d worn and realized I had no idea what to do with it.
“There’s a bin at the back of the room. Throw it in to be cleaned,” a slender black woman with legs that seemed to go on forever said as she walked past me. Her costume of choice seemed to be that of an Amazonian warrior-woman.
“Thanks.” Heading to where she’d directed me, I found the halfway-full bin and tossed the costume inside.
Well, I guess that’s it, I mused, staring into the bin.
But that wasn’t it, not by a long shot. My brothers were out there, at least I presumed they still were and no doubt anxious to speak to me. Crap. There had to be a back way out, right? I scanned the dressing room and came up empty. Exiting the dressing room and stepping out into the hallway, I scanned left and right—one way led to the club and the other to the stage.
Hustling my way back towards the stage, I silently prayed for an exit.
BINGO!
Sure enough, just before I got to the stage, there was a lighted exit. Not hesitating, I burst through it and into the cool night air. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in and slowly released it, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. Yes, I would have to face Sam and Eric when I got home, but at least I’d have a half of an hour to gather my thoughts so I could explain to them why I’d been nearly naked, shaking my ass for strangers and dollar bills.
~*~ TT ~*~
Eric
“I really don’t need to go to the strip joint to loosen up, Sam,�
�� I protested as we entered the club. In truth, it was a half-assed protest at best. While Andrea may not have thought that I cared for the bar and whether it went under or not, that wasn’t the case. It stressed me out as well.
“What? You’d rather stay home and study? Gotta loosen up a bit, bro.” Sam smacked me on the back and smiled as we walked through the club and found a couple of unoccupied seats right up front.
Once seated, I took some time to survey the club. It was busier on a Tuesday here than it was on a Saturday night at our bar. But then again, the strip scene was a completely different entity.
“Damn, I wish we had this type of business.” I looked over at Sam. His eyes were everywhere, though mostly on the women. I grinned. Typical Sam. He pulled his eyes from the woman on stage and met my gaze. “We’d make a killing! This place is rocking.”
I cocked a brow up at my brother. “Yeah, what a great way to honor Andrea’s family, turn it into a titty bar.”
“You make it sound so dirty. Shit.”
I leaned into him. “It’s a strip club.”
“Judgemental! Damn. Nothing wrong with that. It’s legal.”
“Just barely, in this area, anyhow. This isn’t exactly a liberal part of the country. You saw the damned protesters outside.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes at me. “If you were a superhero, you’d be named Captain Buzzkill. ‘Cause bro, you can suck the fun out of just about everything. Even a place like this. Tell me again why I brought you.”
“You have no friends?” I fired back with a grin, knowing that was far from the case. Sam was always a popular dude all through high school and into college. I sometimes felt like I rode his coattails a bit. Sam was the fun brother, I was the realist. Realists are never as fun as blind optimism, which is what Sam had in spades, Andrea too, to a lesser extent.
“Yeah.” The song changed up, and the MC announced that there was a new girl coming up named Felicity. Hmm, a new girl. I focused my attention on the stage.
A moment later the song Lady Marmalade began to blast from the speakers, and we waited. No girl. Huh? I looked over at Sam and we exchanged what-the-fuck looks. Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer and we both immediately returned our attention to the stage. A blonde woman had appeared from behind the curtain in a scarlet red burlesque outfit. The front of the skirt was short, falling halfway up her thighs, while the back was long, trailing behind her on the floor. She had a figure that could stop traffic, but I’m a boob man, and so that’s where my eyes fixated—her wicked cleavage.
My dick jerked in my pants. Damn, I needed to get laid soon. Maybe Sam had been right, I’d been out of the game a little too long if a pair of breasts—albeit amazing one—started to get me riled up.
“She looks familiar,” Sam remarked. I tore my eyes away from the woman to see Sam squinting as he leaned forward in his chair. “Do we know her?”
Looking back to the stage, the woman stepped into one of the spotlights, and the beam of light displayed her stunning facial features with precise clarity.
“Holy fuck!” My mouth dropped open, and all I could do was stare at our stepsister as she began to remove her top. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my balled fists. Surely I was seeing things.
“That’s not…Shit!”
Removing my hands from my eyes, I blinked, and my breath caught in my throat. It was her. Or her fucking switched-at-birth twin. I couldn’t pull my eyes away, even though I knew I should. It was like watching an auto wreck—I didn’t want to look, but for some reason, some perverted reason, my body wouldn’t move. My eyes refused to focus on anything other than her jiggling tits.
She grabbed onto the pole and swung around it. It was a little rough, but she managed. She got a little more ambitious and tried to jump onto and straddle the pole, and she promptly nearly fell on her ass, just happening to catch herself before she made contact. Next came the skirt. She undid it and let it fall from her fingertips and onto the stage.
“I need a closer look.” Standing, Sam pulled out his wallet and grabbed a bill. Putting his wallet back into his back pocket, he walked over to the stage and held the money out, waiting for her to come over to him. He yelled out “Andrea!”
She turned, froze, statue-still, and all colour drained from her face.
Holy fuck on a cracker, Batman! It was. It really was Andrea standing on stage, dozens of people staring at her as she stripped. My goddammed sister! After a moment, she seemed to break free from her initial shock, grabbed the cash and her costume from the stage and bolted, her heels wobbling slightly as she ran.
After she disappeared between the red curtains, I redirected my attention to my brother, who was taking his seat next to me. “That was her.”
“Yeah, no shit. What in the fuck is she doing stripping?”
I shrugged. I really had no idea. “Well...the money situation isn’t that bad.”
He cocked an eyebrow up at me.
“Yeah, alright. It’s bad.” A seductive new song began to play as a new girl took the stage. “But regardless, it’s never so bad that she has to do that for living.” I motioned to the woman on stage.
How in the hell was I ever going to be able to look at her the same way again? Sure, I’d seen her in a bikini and with a tiny towel wrapped around her, but this was different. In those instances, it was just an everyday occurrence. This, on the other hand, was sexy and seductive. I was sporting a half-mast erection and feeling pretty damned uncomfortable.
I looked around me at the sea of faces. I bet my stepsister got them hard as well. It was a fight to keep myself from getting enraged at the idea. Andrea wasn’t a piece of meat. She wasn’t something to be oogled at and used for some pervert's wet dream. The irony that I was also one of those ‘perverts’ wasn’t lost on me, though.
“I’m going to go see if I can talk to her, you coming?” Sam asked, standing.
“Nah,” I ran a shaky hand through my short hair. “I’m not sure what I would even say to her right now.”
Our gazes locked a moment, and he nodded. “All right, I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah.” As Sam began walking towards the bar, I attempted to focus on the woman on stage. It was no use. The worst of it was that I felt like I'd failed her. I was supposed to be the responsible one. I was the one who was supposed to take care of them both. I’d made myself a mental promise when our parents died, and I’d failed. The family business was going under, and Andrea was getting naked for cash.
I didn't think I’d ever felt so defeated.
Chapter 7
Andrea
My hands were shaking as I fumbled to put my key in the ignition. After the third try, I forced myself to relax, flopping back into the car seat and closing my eyes a moment, taking three deep, slow breaths. Opening my eyes, I looked down the street, towards the club. The brothers weren’t following me. No doubt they were attempting to process what they’d seen.
How in the hell was I going to face them? I asked myself for what felt like the hundredth time. Attempting the ignition once more, I breathed a sigh of relief as I was able to steady my hand long enough to start the car.
The drive home was filled with so many thoughts that by the time I pulled into the driveway and entered the house, my head was throbbing. It was easily one of the worst headaches I’d ever had in my life, and I’d been having plenty since our parents' death.
Making my way upstairs, I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Quickly, I changed into a pair of flannel Snoopy pajamas and entered my private half-bath in order to remove my makeup. I mindlessly went through the motions and stood staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked so different now than I had at the club, as though for those brief few minutes, I’d been a completely different person. And I can’t say I had entirely hated that other person, not at all. Up until I’d seen my stepbrothers, I’d actually kind of enjoyed stripping.
Maybe trying it one more time wouldn’t hurt, I asked myself. Confused blue eyes st
ared back at me, offering no solution to my dilemma.
The sound of the front door opening sent a surge of fear through me. It was the same feeling I got as a kid when I knew I was in trouble and was waiting for my father to give me the big lecture.
I was tempted to lock my bedroom door, bury my head under my blankets, and pretend I was asleep. But I didn’t. I needed to face the brothers and sort it out, including the possibility of turning The Foxy into a club like that one I’d danced at. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it would be better than nothing. At least it would have a fighting chance, instead of being the sinking ship that it was at the moment.
Or maybe I was crazy, hoping to salvage something that couldn't be salvaged.
