by Monica James
A flickering pink light up ahead catches my eye. If I believed in God, I would take this as a sign. When I reach the black painted building, I look up and see the dancing light indicates there are Girls, Girls, Girls inside. There’s no need to guess what this business is with a name like The Pink Oyster.
The derelict appearance gives me hope that maybe I’ll find who I’m looking for inside. It seems my plan is to be set in motion sooner than I had intended. Pushing open the heavy black door, I step inside.
Flashes of red and yellow and the harsh intermittent strobe lighting cut through the misted fog. The mirrored disco ball above the stage throws flashes of light across the black walls. The half-naked blonde twirling around the silver pole on the stage confirms what I thought to be true.
I walk past a crowd of men who are wolf-whistling in front of the stage, throwing dollar bills at the now naked girl. She’s too skinny for my taste, so I make my way over to the bar.
“Budweiser,” I shout at the bartender to be heard over the rock song blasting through the speakers.
She nods, and I don’t fail to notice her watch me with interest as she opens my bottle of beer. “Two dollars.” She places my bottle on the bar, and I give her a five. “You new ’round here?”
I nod and reach for my beer.
Searching my surroundings, I hope to see a familiar face. I don’t.
“What’s your name?” she asks, handing me my change.
“Bull,” I reply, placing the bills in the clam-shaped tip jar.
“Well, Bull, welcome to The Pink Oyster. I’m Lotus. If you need anything, you come see me, okay? I own this fine establishment, and we like gentlemen like yourself to be regular customers.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Lotus is a pretty, forty-something blonde. I can see nothing but kindness behind her green eyes. It’s a look I haven’t seen in a long time.
“You looking for any company?”
“Company?” I arch a brow as I take a long pull of my beer. Fuck, it tastes good. Even though I wasn’t the legal drinking age when I got locked up, that didn’t stop me from getting wasted almost every night since…
I shove down the memories and focus on Lotus because I need to keep a clear head to do this.
“Yes. Not only are my girls brilliant dancers, they are brilliant companions, too.”
Lotus sees my confusion and smiles. “Don’t worry. This is a legal business. We offer a little extra something out back in our VIP rooms. Nothing illegal, though. Just some extra one-on-one time with the girls.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure pretty girls like yours are way out of my price range.”
“No problem. If you change your mind, let me know.”
Before I have a chance to reply, the already dim lights darken, and the crowd goes wild.
“You know what time it is?” the cowboy dressed emcee says. The mob hollers eagerly in response. “It’s the one, the only, Detroit’s crème de le crème…Tigerlily!” He hurries off backstage while most men rush to the tip rail—the seats closest to the stage.
I wonder why they’re slobbering all over themselves.
Spinning on my shaky stool, I lean against the bar and cross my arms, watching with interest as “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails begins to play over the speakers.
Music has changed a lot since I’ve been inside, but this song is one I know. It’s one I grew up with.
The stage is cloaked in black, and the choice of music adds to the mystery. But when I see the red curtain at the back of the stage part and a slender brunette prowl out, I edge forward. The strobe lights distort her form, but from what I can see, I’m interested.
She moves her body like a true dancer, instead of just using the pole to give her patrons a gimmicky show. This girl has training because she can dance. She’s in sync with the rhythm, making every lithe movement an accent of the song.
Her skimpy thong and bikini top allow me to see her toned and strong body.
When the song kicks to the chorus, she latches onto the pole, revealing her strength, as she twirls around it, using only her legs to keep herself upright. She scales that pole with the strength and speed of an Olympic gymnast, and when she dismounts, she lands on her feet at the front of the stage, crouched low.
When she flicks back her long hair and focuses her eyes on the crowd, I swear to god, every guy’s dick stands to attention. A wicked grin slashes at her full lips. She’s aware of the effect she has on these walking hard-ons. Seductively rolling her hips, she comes to a slow stand.
Even though I’m hidden in a dark corner in the back of the room, I feel as if she’s staring right at me. But a good performer does that—makes you feel like they’re performing just for you.
Sliding off the red glittery bikini top, she covers her full, natural tits, only removing her hands at the end of the song. Before the stage goes dark, I get a glimpse of her perky pink nipples. Holy…shit.
Green bills litter the stage, and Tigerlily discreetly bends forward and collects her earnings. I see her subtly avoiding the leering hands of the perverts in the front. She smiles and plays off their crude remarks, but it obviously bothers her that she’s viewed as just a piece of ass.
“Change your mind?” Lotus asks, as I throw back my beer, watching Tigerlily.
“Maybe. How much?” I wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
“She’s too much, handsome,” says a voice to my left. “So am I. But I’d make an exception for you.”
The blonde who was dancing on the stage before Tigerlily steps in front of me. She’s wearing a short blue dress that drops into a very low V in the front, showing off her fake tits. She’s not unattractive, by any means, but I’m not here for pussy, contrary to my surroundings.
“Hi, I’m Tawny. I’m Lotus’s number one girl, aren’t I?” she says, looking over my shoulder at Lotus.
Lotus playfully scoffs in response, while continuing to serve thirsty patrons.
Tawny smiles at me, making no secret that she’s sizing me up. “So, handsome, whaddya say?”
“Thank you, but—” I don’t have time to finish my sentence, however, because before I know it, Tigerlily re-enters the room, wearing a red dress that clings to her shapely body like a second skin. Now that the lights are a little brighter, I can see her better. Her brown hair is long and wavy. Her monster heels give her some height, but without them, she’s short.
Tawny turns to see what’s captured my attention and rolls her eyes. “Forget it. She doesn’t do new customers. And besides, I think she’ll have her hands full with Thumper.”
When I look at who she’s referring to, I wonder if Thumper lost his way to his fraternity. He’s in a varsity jacket and looks like some rich college kid whose mom still calls him Sweetie.
Thumper is about five seconds from losing a finger because Tigerlily is trying to get up from his lap. His group of dipshit minions are laughing as he manhandles her, thinking her apparent discomfort is funny. When he slips a hand underneath her dress, she pushes back appalled and slaps him—hard. Good for her. The meathead reddens and tightens his hold around her.
Even though she can hold her own, I jump up before I can question what the fuck I’m doing. Shoving past Tawny, I charge over to the asshole. I’ve seen his kind one too many times before. But I’ve never seen anyone like Tigerlily.
The moment I reach the table, I grip her bicep and yank her up before Thumper has a chance to say jackshit. She yelps in protest, but has no choice as I shove her behind me. Thumper glares up at me. This dog isn’t happy I’ve taken away his toy.
“Excuse me. Me and Tigerlily were talking.” His friends are silent, watching for any sign to intervene.
“Well, you’re done talking,” I reply calmly.
He tongues his cheek, furious. “We’re done when I say we’re done,” he spits, standing abruptly and kicking back his chair.
He’s a few inches shorter than I am but tries to make up for it by puffing out his chest. I
can’t help but snicker.
“You have anything else you want to say to him?” I ask Tigerlily, my eyes never wavering from Thumper.
“No,” she says with bitter conviction.
I like how she doesn’t cower in fear. She had no qualms about slapping Thumper, even though I’m pretty sure she’ll get into shit for scaring off clients. Her name takes on another meaning, and I decide Tiger is a better suited moniker for her.
“You heard the lady,” I taunt. “You’re done.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he snarls, rounding the table and getting into my face.
As long as he doesn’t touch me, this doesn’t have to end badly…for him. “I’m someone who doesn’t manhandle women. Now, you have two options.” I raise a finger. “One, you can sit the fuck back down and enjoy the show.” I then raise another finger. “Or two, you can enjoy a ride in the back of an ambulance. The choice is yours.”
His nostrils flare as he exhales angrily while clenching his jaw. He assesses whether he can take me, but I stand my ground, not at all intimidated by his smoke and mirrors.
“Fuck this place!” he finally says, childishly sweeping his hand across the table and hurling all the glasses and pitchers of beer to the floor.
One glass is left standing, and as he goes to smack it off the table, I seize his forearm and squeeze hard. He peers down at my left hand, appearing to read over the word tattooed across my knuckles. It says wolf. The right hand says lone.
“You touch that glass, and I’ll break it over your head.” My threat isn’t empty.
When he senses I’m not playing, he rips his arm from my grip and glares. “C’mon, boys. Let’s go. This place is a dump anyway. And their beer tastes like piss.”
Thumper and his friends brush past me, but I stand solid, protecting Tiger until the last of them is gone.
I take a deep breath, then drop to a squat to pick up the broken glass. I have no idea what came over me. So much for staying hidden in the shadows. The need to protect Tiger was instinctive, and I don’t know why. What I do know is that she’s dangerous, and I need to stay away.
Twelve long years of planning won’t be thrown away for a nice ass.
However, the moment she squats down beside me, all thoughts of staying away get shot to shit. “Hi.” Her voice is sweet like cotton candy.
I meet her big green eyes and nod.
“Thanks for what you did. Thumper is a jerk, but he’s one of my clients who’s into the girlfriend experience.” When I arch a brow, she clarifies, “I pretend to flirt with him, and he tips me generously. I can handle myself but thank you. Things were getting a little out of hand.” She licks her glossy red lips, and I instantly have the urge to wipe my thumb across her mouth, smudging her perfect lipstick and leaving her a beautiful mess.
I nod again, not interested in small talk.
“I’m Tigerlily. Lily,” she amends quickly, extending her small hand.
Glancing down at it, I don’t shake it. “Bull.”
She appears embarrassed and quickly jerks her hand back.
“Get up from there,” Lotus demands, hands on her hips as she stands by the table. She has every right to be pissed at me for throwing out her customers. I obviously misread the situation. Thumper wanted the girlfriend experience, meaning he wanted Tiger to beat his ass? There is so much wrong with that picture.
With hands filled with broken glass, I stand and place the pieces on the table. Tiger also stands.
“Sorry. I’ll split,” I say to Lotus, as she watches me closely.
She raises a thin eyebrow. “You got someplace to be?”
“No, but I figured you’d want me gone. I just lost you paying customers,” I explain bluntly.
When she shakes her head, I wonder what’s going on. “You just did what my main bouncer, Andre, should have done.”
“Oh?” I reply, running a hand over my head. “I didn’t realize you had any bouncers working here.”
“Exactly my point,” she counters, drumming her fingers against her waist. “Andre was too busy chatting up some barfly to notice that one of the girls he is paid to protect was getting manhandled.” She looks over at the giant who is standing sheepishly by her side.
I instantly don’t like Andre. Apart from the fact he looks like a slimy greaseball with his thinning ponytail and black handlebar moustache, he dropped the ball when it came to protecting someone who was relying on him to keep them safe.
“You want a job?” Lotus asks unexpectedly. Both Andre’s and my eyes widen.
“A job?” I question, in case I’ve misheard her.
She nods, her blonde ponytail bopping with the sharp movement. “Yes. It appears Andre needs help.”
Andre looks moments away from ripping off my arms. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” But tough fucking luck. “But I can start tomorrow.”
“Great. Come in around five p.m.”
Fucking A. Seems my plan of blending into society has come about sooner than I thought. I planned to be a chameleon and appear to be on the right path. Although a more “respectable” job would probably be better suited, this will get my PO off my ass. It’s a perfect ruse.
My revenge starts now.
As Lotus brushes the glass into a trash can, I say, “You know, I can fix this table for you.” I place my palm on the top and rock it, showing her how unsteady it is. I couldn’t help but notice this place is in desperate need of some maintenance. I almost fell on my ass thanks to the shaky barstool.
She stops mid sweep, her lips shaping into a slanted grin. “Good with your hands, are you?”
Her comment drips with innuendo, and I can’t help but smirk. “You have no idea.”
She fans her cheeks dramatically. “Come in at twelve.”
With nothing further to say, I turn and am about to head back to the bar to finish my beer, until I notice both Tiger and Tawny are watching me. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable.
Lotus picks up on my discomfort immediately. “You want to be a Bird Dog here; you’ve got to be comfortable around the girls. Tawny?” She looks at the attentive blonde. “You happy to take Bull out back?”
Bird Dog must be slang for a bouncer who takes care of whatever happens “out back.”
“Yes, Lotus,” she replies, grinning wickedly.
“What happens out back?” I ask, not interested in surprises.
When Tawny gradually bends forward and whispers into my ear, “You’ll see,” I hold my breath because she’s too close.
Before I can say thanks but no thanks, as I’m not going anywhere with Tawny, Tiger steps forward. “Lotus, let me.”
Both Lotus and Tawny swivel toward her, visibly stunned. “What?”
The pink to her cheeks hints she’s either embarrassed or maybe she’s hot. Shit if I know how to read a woman. “Seeing as Bull came to my aid, I figure I owe him.”
“You owe me nothing,” I bark, not interested in being anyone’s charity case.
Her eyes soften, and I instantly feel like a dick for snapping. “I’d still like to say thanks.”
“You can buy me a beer.” I attempt to turn, but she quickly latches onto my forearm. The leather of my jacket creaks under her grip while I clench my jaw.
Tiger reads my discomfort about being touched and instantly retreats. When she does, I exhale.
“Fine. If you want to go with Bull, then go,” Lotus says, waving us away. The club is starting to get busy, and I know Lotus needs to get back to the bar.
Tawny folds her arms over her chest. “That doesn’t seem fair. It was my gig two minutes ago.”
Lotus clucks her tongue. “Go take a break.”
Tawny’s not happy but, eventually, stomps off.
Tiger smiles shyly, brushing a piece of dark hair behind her ear. When she gestures with her head that I’m to follow, I eye her suspiciously. “It’s okay, Bull. I won’t bite.”
The humor in her voice has me finally nodding.
; She takes that as her cue to lead the way. I follow her firm ass as she guides me through the club.
We walk down a corridor lit only by dim fluorescents. The plain scenery doesn’t give much away. Tiger opens the last door on the left and walks inside. As soon as I enter, I see a chair in the middle of the room that is lit up a bright red by a spotlight.
This must be the VIP room. So a Bird Dog is someone who monitors the private dance rooms.
Tiger notices me taking in my surroundings and smiles. “See, it’s not that scary, right?”
The jury is still out on that one.
“Take a seat,” she directs, pointing at the steel chair.
I look at her suspiciously. “Why?”
“Just trust me.” She attempts to push me down, but my arm snaps out, and I grip her wrist before she can make contact with me. She flinches, but her gaze never wavers from mine. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
But that’s the problem…I can’t promise I won’t hurt her.
Her eyes are filled with nothing but resolve, so I slowly release her.
We both stand still, holding our own, and I like her even more because she doesn’t appear afraid or even intimidated that I tower over her.
Eventually, I take a seat, then watch as she walks to the corner of the room and loads up some device. I’m pretty sure it’s an iPod, but I’ve never seen one in the flesh, so I can’t really tell.
She presses a few buttons and the lights dim. I can barely see my hand in front of my face, but as the room flicks over to a deep pink, Tiger glows like a Christmas tree.
Marilyn Manson’s cover of “Tainted Love” fills the room. A song I recognize. I watch with interest as she moves in time to the music, closing her eyes and appearing to get lost in the beat.
Just as when I first saw her dance, I am hooked on how she uses her body as a conduit. She turns her back and unfastens the low zipper on her dress. Once it’s down, she shimmies out of it and tosses it aside. She spins around and brushes her hair over her shoulders, revealing a gold bra that barely covers her full, round tits.
She breathlessly stalks over to me while I lean back in my seat, unsure of what comes next.
With no hesitation, she climbs onto my lap, but she suspends herself over me, using her muscles to balance her weight. She mimics the motion of wrapping her arms around my neck but still doesn’t touch me.
