Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, looking up at her while she moves to straddle my hips.
“Not enough.” She tosses her head back and gulps down the champagne. Some spills over her chin and onto her chest.
I look over her Red Riding Hood outfit. My hands grip her hips and feel the soft material between my fingers. She gasps, bringing the tip from her lips and sucking in a deep breath. “Open wide.” She smiles down at me.
I part my lips, letting go of her waist and run my hands over my chest and up into my hair, loving the feel. The pills doing their job. She brings the tip of the bottle to my lips and tips it back.
The cold, sweet bubbly fills my mouth, and I open my throat, swallowing it. She tilts it a little more, and I cough, spitting it out all over her making her laugh. She gets off me and helps me up. I walk over to the back of the stage and face the floor-to-ceiling mirror, looking at myself.
I run my hands over the booty shorts and decide to go ahead and remove them, leaving myself in nothing but my white thong that reads Daddy’s in red. I have my Harley Quinn top on that says Daddy’s little monster. It’s so short that my under boob can be seen. Benny paid for my boobs last year. It was my Christmas present. I’m all for body modifications. I don’t care if you’re tucked, sucked, or flipped. If you’re happy with yourself, that’s all that matters.
The light hits my wedding ring on my left hand, and it makes my already racing heart pound in my chest. Most dancers wear them when they work. Some really are married, and others do it to make the guys think they’re not actually available outside of the club. If the men think they can date you, they quit paying you. If they think we’re unavailable, they offer us more for our time. Plus, the married men don’t want anyone knowing what they do with us. They just want you to give them what their wives won’t.
It’s a simple concept. One that I’m more than willing to play along with.
THIRTY-FOUR
ASHTYN
I’m bent down over by the mirror once again, sucking down what’s left of my drink that I had picked up at the bar when I see the doors open. I quickly set it down and grab my lipstick out of my clutch that I brought back here with me for this very reason. I reapply the red to my already numbing lips so it’s fresh. Some of it had rubbed off on the bottle of champagne that me and Sadie finished off. I toss it by my now empty drink and walk back toward the pole, looking down at my heels. Slowly dragging the toe of them on the stage as I take my time.
“I can Tell” by 504 Boyz begins to fill the large room, and I smile, letting the pole swing me around, giving my audience my back as they get seated to enjoy the show, knowing Sadie is on the opposite stage.
This is what I love about my job. So many women look down on us and will talk shit about what we choose to do with our bodies. Saint made me comfortable with my body. And why not make money off it while I’m young? I know this type of job has an expiration date, so I’m going to use it to my advantage while I can. You only live once. And when you were once as close to death as me, you learn to take that saying seriously.
Turning around, I spread my legs wide open and slide my back down the pole, eyes closed. Once my ass hits my heels, I open my eyes, and I gasp at what I see sitting at the front of the stage.
A guy leans back in his chair—center stage—legs spread wide. His hands rested on his jeans-clad thighs and a black hoodie on. It’s the mask he wears that throws me off. They dressed up. Sadie had said.
It’s a devil mask. But unlike any one I’ve ever seen. It’s mainly white, faded to gray and black in places. The eyes are red and so are the horns that curve up out of the top where eyebrows would be. The jaw comes to a point, the lips are black, and there’s an upside-down cross between the eyes. It looks ridiculously sexy under the neon lights.
My heart races when he leans forward, placing his forearms on the edge of the stage. The mask tilts to the side, and my body heat rises while my breathing picks up. I can’t see his eyes, but I can feel them on me. Scorching hot and unashamed. I lick my already numbing lips.