by M. S. Parker
The customers were gone, but the main room wasn’t empty. Other waitresses lingered, talking to each other and to the strippers coming out from the dressing room. The cleaners were taking care of the usual shit customers left behind. I didn’t say anything to any of them as I headed for the door. My bus would be leaving in ten minutes, and it was a five-minute walk so I couldn’t waste time talking even if I wanted to.
I’d barely made it half a block when I heard footsteps behind me. I clutched my purse more tightly but didn’t look over my shoulder. If it was someone who just happened to be going the same way I was, that was fine, but if it was someone following me, I didn’t want them to know that I’d caught on. Instead, I used the reflection from the giant plate glass window I passed to see who was behind me.
My stomach sank as I saw two men from the club. The guy with the large nose and one of his friends were getting closer, and one look at their faces told me that this was no coincidence.
Shit.
I had some pepper spray in my purse, but it was a couple years old, and I didn’t know if it went bad with age. Plus, there were two of them. Would I have enough time to spray them both if they came at me together? If I screamed, would it be enough to scare them? Or would they suspect, as I did, that in this neighborhood, at this time of night, no one would respond?
Still, it was all I had, and I’d be damned if I went down without a fight.
I tried to ease open my purse without looking at what I was doing, my heart drumming against my ribcage with every beat.
Then, suddenly, a shadow loomed, and I spun around, ready to fight with whatever I could…and stopped dead.
“I couldn’t find it, Chey.” Slade smiled down at me as if him approaching me made complete sense. “I don’t know where you left your phone, but it wasn’t back there.”
The two guys who’d been following me were still standing there, but even I could feel their uncertainty. I didn’t blame them. I had no clue what Slade was doing here.
“It’s probably buried in your purse,” he said, looking down at where my hand was buried inside it.
Wordlessly, I nodded. I didn’t know him, but my gut said to go along with whatever he was doing. Even though he’d asked about a lap dance earlier, my instincts told me that he wouldn’t hurt me.
“Let’s go then.” He reached out a hand, then glanced over at the men behind us. “I’m sorry, are we in your way?”
I didn’t imagine the edge to those words, even if I didn’t understand it.
The men mumbled a few things under their breath that I didn’t catch, and then hurried back the way we’d come.
“We should probably start walking,” Slade said, his hand still out. His expression had sobered, and there was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before.
I looked at his hand until he dropped it. “I’m fine. My bus stop is up there.” I gestured down the street where a bus was pulling up to the curb. Even if I ran, I’d never make it. “Dammit!”
“I’ve got a car coming,” Slade said. “It should be here in a minute.”
“I can’t pay for it,” I said bluntly.
“Don’t worry about it.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “We’ll split it, okay?”
I didn’t like the idea of paying even that much, but I liked the thought of waiting for the next bus even less. Estrada would take care of Austin as long as I needed her to, and she’d never complain, but he was sick, and I hated the thought of him needing me and me not being there.
“All right,” I reluctantly agreed. “But if I think for a moment you’re fucking with me, I’ll taze your ass.”
I didn’t have a Taser, but he didn’t know that. I doubted I needed to worry, but it was always better to make sure things were clear.
“Fair enough,” he said.
We didn’t say anything until we were both in the backseat of the car, with my address in the driver’s GPS.
“Thank you.” I didn’t like saying it, but I wasn’t going to pretend like he hadn’t helped me out back there.
He shrugged. “I figured you probably had it handled, but it wouldn’t hurt to offer some assistance.”
“Where’s your friend?” I blurted out the only question in my head that wasn’t personal.
“Back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He told me not to wait for him.” After a few seconds of silence, he asked, “Have you worked there long?”
In his question, I also heard what he wasn’t asking. He wanted to know how I’d come to work at a strip club but didn’t want to flat-out ask it.
“Since my birthday,” I lied. “Jobs aren’t easy to find.”
“That’s true.” He looked out the window, then turned back to me. “Are you from here?”
I nodded. “Born and raised.”
“I thought so.” He smiled, and the transformation in his face was beautiful. “You’ve got the accent.”
“What about you?” I shot back. “Your accent definitely isn’t from around here.”
“I’m from Boston, originally, but I moved here a few years ago.”
I recognized the slight tensing of his shoulders, the way his eyes slid past mine. Something about his past bothered him. That was good since it meant he probably wouldn’t pry into anything too deep because he wouldn’t want me to do the same.
We didn’t talk much the rest of the ride, and when we reached my place, I gave the driver a little more than half the fare, then got out. I hadn’t gone more than two steps before Slade was at my side.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your door.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking nonchalant. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
I didn’t bother to tell him what my opinion was about gentlemen who went to strip clubs. I just kept walking. He hadn’t tried anything, and the car was still at the curb, so he could very well just be being polite, but I planned on getting my hand on that pepper spray just in case.
He followed me up the stairs, then fell into step next to me as I walked down the hall. When I stopped at my door, I had one hand gripping my pepper spray.
“Thank you,” I said again, then waited for him to walk away. If he was going to try anything, it’d be out here where it was just me rather than inside where Estrada and Austin would be at risk.
He gave me a searching look, and then, suddenly, he bent his head and kissed me, his lips firm against mine. The moment lasted only a few seconds before I regained my head and shoved him away from me.
“I’m not one of Fernando’s girls for sale.” I pointed a finger at him and saw it shake. “Stay away from me.”
I managed to get the key into the lock on the first try, and it took everything I had not to slam the door in his face. If it hadn’t been for Austin, I would’ve done just that.
Bastard.
Nine
Slade
That kiss. Wow. It sent my head spinning in a way no kiss had ever done.
Then she shoved me, and the moment was over. It didn’t stop me from staring at the door and wondering just what the hell just happened. I’d always considered myself a good judge of character, especially when it came to women, and I could’ve sworn I was getting a vibe from her. The kind of vibe that said she wanted me to kiss her.
Clearly not.
I headed back down to the waiting car and thanked the driver for waiting. I didn’t say anything as he pulled away from the curb, already lost in my thoughts.
What had she meant, saying that she wasn’t one of Fernando’s girls for sale? I wasn’t stupid. I knew that it meant she wasn’t one of the women who took guys into the back of the club for lap dances…and maybe a happy ending. She’d told me that at the club. What I couldn’t figure out was why she’d thought that was why I’d kissed her.
Okay, I’d been at a strip club, and I had asked about a lap dance, so that didn’t exactly put me in the overly-noble camp. But shit…I’d been half-teasing about t
hat, and once I’d seen her reaction, I’d backed off. Hell, I hadn’t even been paying attention to the strippers half the time. I’d been too busy watching Cheyenne walk back and forth, taking drinks to assholes.
Did she think I was paying her all that attention because I wanted to sleep with her? I did want to sleep with her, but that wasn’t the reason I’d been watching her. I just found her…fascinating.
Even after she slammed her door in my face, I wanted to know more. Why was she working in a place like that? I didn’t have anything against women who chose to work at strip clubs. I was all for choice. But I couldn’t see how she would’ve decided that DDD was where she wanted to be.
Not that I knew a damn thing about her aside from the fact that she was born and raised in El Paso. Hell, an internet search of her name and age would’ve told me that much. Maybe more. I thought about taking my phone out and seeing what I could find, but I felt like that would be taking things a step too far.
I’d wait until I got back to my place.
“Mister?”
My head jerked up, and I realized that I hadn’t been paying attention. “Yes?”
“This is your stop, right?”
“Yes.” I handed over the fare and then headed inside.
What if Cheyenne had meant something else by her comment? What if this ‘Fernando’ was more than just an asshole boss? What if being one of his girls meant exactly what I hoped it didn’t?
I could fix that though. If he was involved in illegal shit, I could take care of that. It was my job, after all. Human trafficking wasn’t technically under the DEA’s jurisdiction, but selling slaves and selling drugs often went hand in hand, and drugs were definitely my jurisdiction.
I didn’t even bother pretending that the only reason I was going to investigate Fernando was because it was my job. I wanted to protect the woman I found so fascinating.
I tumbled into bed after my shower, barely taking the time to toss my towel into my hamper. I registered little more than my head hitting the pillow and then I was out.
“Thank you!” Cheyenne threw her arms around me, a smile lighting up her face. “I didn’t know who I could turn to about Fernando, and you took care of me.”
“Of course,” I said, palming her ass as I lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my waist. “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
She leaned against me, and I realized she wasn’t wearing any clothes. “How can I ever repay you?”
Her lips were soft against mine, but her teeth were sharp. She nibbled my bottom lip, then slid her tongue into my mouth. As we kissed, I walked her over to the newest purchase for my playroom.
Stocks.
I set her down next to it and gave her a moment to use her safe word. Instead, she smiled at me and opened the top of the stocks. Without me even having to tell her what to do, she bent over and rested her neck and wrists in the appropriate places. I lowered the top and let her take a few seconds to adjust while I admired the pretty picture in front of me.
She was so small that I’d had to order it specially made to prevent her from being able to get free without using the safety release, but now I saw that it was worth every penny.
I moved behind her and checked that her ankles were already shoulder distance apart. They were. She was the perfect sub, knowing what I needed almost before I did, and always willing to do what was necessary.
Even when it was painful.
I slid a finger between her ass cheeks, nudging the flat end of the butt plug I’d slid inside her this morning before I’d left for work. She made a soft sound but didn’t say a word. She was always allowed to react, but words were forbidden unless she was begging to come.
I picked up my favorite riding crop and smacked it against the palm of my hand. It was flexible but strong. I liked it because it would leave beautiful red stripes on her skin, hurting without leaving any lasting damage. At least not if I was careful. That was the other reason I liked it. She had to trust me not to go too far.
The first crack had her gasping. The fifth made her squirm. The twelfth got me a whimper. The eighteenth was a cry.
Liquid dripped down the insides of her thighs, and her pussy was glistening and wet.
The first flick of the crop between her legs made her entire body tense, and after that, it was one scream after another, each louder than the last. By the time I was finished, her pussy was swollen and hot to the touch.
And touch I did.
Fingers and tongue, soothing the flesh that I’d tortured was a kind of torture itself. I allowed her to come once as a reward for enduring the crop, then removed the plug from her ass.
“Relax,” I said. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I know you will.”
I shoved my cock into–
I jerked awake, my phone buzzing. I scowled at Neely’s name and ignored the call. He’d drunk dialed me one time too many, giving me far more information about his sex life than I’d ever want to know.
Besides, I had a not-so-little problem of my own to take care of.
The sheet I’d pulled half over me was tented as my erection strained against the fabric. Waking up with a hard-on wasn’t unusual, and neither was having a sex dream. For me, a BDSM sex dream was practically normal.
I’d never had a dream about someone I knew though. The women I fucked in my dreams were faceless, and I was sure a psychologist would have a lot to say about that.
I wasn’t worried about that though. I was more concerned with the fact that my cock and balls were throbbing.
I tossed back the sheet and wrapped my hand around my shaft. I didn’t even bother to pretend I could think about anyone else. The memory of my dream was too strong. I could see her bent over, her skin striped with red lines, her ass ready for me.
I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to sink into her ass. It would be hot and tight. So tight that I’d feel that edge of pain that made everything so exciting. She’d writhe and squirm, each movement squeezing me as I pounded into her. I’d grab her hair, pull it until she started to cry, so overwhelmed with sensation that she wouldn’t know which way was up. And only after she’d screamed herself hoarse would I give in and come.
I grimaced as cum splattered across my stomach and dripped down my hand. Not exactly the most pleasant way to be jolted out of a dream, but it reminded me that that’s all this was. A dream.
Ten
Cheyenne
I didn’t want to do this, but my life had been full of things I didn’t want to do but had to do anyway. This one, in fact, didn’t even rank in the top ten of shittiest things I’d had to do. It didn’t make the prospect of walking back into the store any less awful.
The weather agreed with me. Instead of the usual sunny, mid-sixties weather we got in the middle of February, today was gray and overcast with dark clouds that threatened rain.
Slade would’ve felt right at home.
I frowned. Why was I thinking about him? Sure, he’d diffused that situation last night and shared a car with me, but he’d also proven that he was like every other man in the world when he kissed me.
It hadn’t even been that good of a kiss.
I ignored the butterflies in my stomach that disagreed with that statement.
I had enough on my plate without remembering that kiss. I lifted my chin and walked into the store. Rhoda was on me before I’d gone a dozen steps.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I was on the schedule.”
“Not anymore you’re not!”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a tall rack that had been pulled away from the wall. The space was small and shielded anyone from seeing us. I was also pretty sure the store’s cameras couldn’t see us either.
“Let go.” I tried to pull my arm away, but she tightened her grip, twisting my arm around enough to make it almost impossible. I stopped struggling, willing to wait for a better opportunity to get away.
“Liste
n here, you little slut,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I told you that if you left yesterday, you were fired. I don’t need you waltzing back in here like your shit don’t stink, thinking just because you can fuck your way to the top, that I’ll let you fuck me over.”
“What did I ever do to you?” I blurted out the question without thinking. I didn’t understand what had made Rhoda lash out yesterday, or what was making her do it today. Not liking me and harassing me about how I looked was one thing. This was something else entirely.
“Like you don’t know that I applied to be regional manager,” she said, giving me a shake. “And you filed some petty complaint against me that kept me from getting the job.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“I didn’t,” I protested.
“Maybe you thought you could offer a blowjob and get the job, or maybe you’re just a bitch.”
I stared at her, completely clueless. “I–”
“Don’t lie to me!”
Another shake, but this time, I was able to pull free. I rubbed my arm but couldn’t go anywhere. Rhoda was between me and freedom, and I didn’t want to resort to pushing past her unless I absolutely had to.
“I’m not lying.”
“Like hell you’re not.” Rhoda pointed her finger at me and shook it, like I was a child being scolded. “They specifically said that they had ‘concerns’ about my ability to manage on a regional level due to recent ‘surveys.’”
“How is that–”
She held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” A fine sheen of sweat had appeared on her forehead, and she swiped at it. “You’re not my problem anymore. You stay away from the store, and you stay away from me.”
I knew I needed to stop talking, but I had to know one thing. “My paycheck–”
“We’ll mail your fucking paycheck. What’s left of it anyway. Someone had to pay for the time you cut out on.”
My hands closed into fists. “You can’t do that!”
