Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“There a difference?’
“Yes. It’s been over a year and a half since I had a man. Longer since I’ve had sex with one.”
“Makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does when...” she hesitated. She was feeling good, she didn’t want to bring that blissful satisfaction crashing down around her. Not now.
He frowned when she didn’t continue. “Ain’t gonna tell me.”
“No, it’s not your problem. It’s mine.”
“You end up as one of my girls, your problems become my problems. Got me?” When she didn’t answer, he continued more firmly. “I hire you, you gotta spill it all. Got me? Gotta know what I’m dealin’ with. Ain’t bringin’ unexpected shit down on me or the club.”
“Okay.”
“So, you wanna dance at my club, be prepared for me to be all up in your business, got me?”
Lord, it would be a relief to finally get all this off her chest, to have even the smallest of help. An ally. Something. She’d been going at this alone for so long...
But what could this biker do for her? For her problems?
“Lemme tell you how it all works... This ain’t no nine to five. Got house fees. Gotta choice. Either you’re payin’ a stage fee an’ keepin your tips or on rare occasion I’ll accept a percentage of your tips instead. I’ll discount your stage fee since you’ll start out on daylight. Prime time’s a lot higher. The house gets a percentage of each private dance. You’re gonna hafta buy outfits, shoes, an’ you’re gonna hafta tip the DJ if they’re playin’ while you dance. That’s only some of the costs, baby girl. You prepared to do that? Ain’t a job where it’s rainin’ money. Your feet are gonna hurt. You’re gonna be sick of perverts, men who wanna fuck you, take you to dinner, make you their girl. Ain’t a walk in the park. Some women walk away because they’re payin’ more than their makin’. Got me?”
She rolled her lips under at his millionth “Got me?” “Got you,” she answered.
“Start daylight. Stage fee will be twenty bucks a dance. You negotiate your private dances. More you make, more I make. Got me?”
“Got you,” she repeated.
“Need sexy shit. No jeans. Platform heels. Gonna check to see if you can borrow some from the other girls ‘til you got enough scratch to get your own. You’re on the older side, but still got the innocent look so you got that goin’ for ya. Bite that lip, give ‘em a sultry look, shake your tits an’ ass. Learn some moves an’ you’re gonna have ‘em eatin’ outta your hand.”
She waited for his signature “got me.” And when it didn’t come she said, “Got you,” anyway and giggled.
He lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. “Somethin’ funny?”
“No.”
“’Cause this shit’s serious. Got me?”
She pressed her face into his chest and couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up. Then something he said hit her. She lifted her head. “Hey! I’m on the older side?”
“How old are you?”
“I’m only twenty-nine!”
“Yeah. Old for this biz.”
“Twenty-nine is not old,” she exclaimed. “I’m younger than you!” He had to be at least thirty-five.
“Most of the dancers start out young. Eighteen, twenty. Start before they’re poppin’ out the kids, stretchin’ shit out.”
“So, I’m washed up before I even start?”
“Ain’t washed up. My oldest girl’s forty. She still got it goin’ on. Popular with my regulars but she got skills.” He traced his fingers down her arm. “Got kids?”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He wanted her to be straight with him. It was part of the deal. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to tell him everything. “Yes.”
“How many?”
“One. I’m doing this for her.”
He nodded. “Times are tough. Got you.”
“Yes, times are very tough. How about you? Do you have kids?”
“Suspect so.”
Emma lifted her head and stared down into his green eyes. “You suspect so? You don’t know?”
“One I’m pretty sure’s mine. Wasn’t told about her. Name ain’t on the birth certificate so was adopted by the woman’s new husband when she was an infant. Didn’t know anything ‘bout her ‘til I heard a rumor.”
“How old is she now?”
“Fourteen.”
“And you’ve never met her?”
“No. When I heard ‘bout her, went an’ waited for her outside her school. Saw ‘er from a distance. Soon as I saw her, knew she was mine.”
“Then demand a DNA test.”
He shook his head. “Her dad makes good money. Family’s livin’ large, big house, fancy cars, private school. She’s got siblin’s. Nothin’ like my life. She got it good. Better than what I could give ‘er. Probably go to college, make somethin’ out of herself. She don’t need a daddy who’s got a stable of girls strippin’ for a livin’.”
“Her mother never told you she was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“’Cause fuckin’ me was a mistake for her. Wanted to walk on the wild side for a hot minute. Didn’t expect she’d walk away with a piece of me. We were both young an’ stupid.”