Chapter One
The club was busy for a Tuesday night. Nikki Avery watched the crowd from the edge of the dance stage and empty chairs were few and far between, the bar packed two and three deep with guys. A crowded place meant good tips and good meant making rent.
Nikki watched from the edge of the stage as her friend Lori…stage name Lorelei…finished up her set, her final athletic gyrations on the stage sending the men into a complete frenzy. Mack, the club owner had asked…almost begged… the two of them so many times to do a routine together. He was convinced the combination of Lori’s taught, angular body and silky blonde hair played against Nikki’s ample curves and waves of chestnut hair would get the entire place pumped—translate: hard—beyond all distraction. Mack reasoned getting an entire room of men turned on quickly was better for business.
But she and Lori had refused so far. Just because they were friends, and he’s seen them share the occasional kiss and cuddle in the dressing room or alley didn’t mean they wanted to take that on stage. Mack had backed off for now, but Nikki knew he’d be after them again.
Lori’s music ended and as she walked off the stage past Nikki, she gave her a sharp smack on her ass.
“Hey!” Nikki spun around, hand on her backside.
“For good luck, sweetheart. Besides, I love your ass…all of it. And I wanted to be the first one of the night who got to slap it.” Lori sashayed her way to the dressing room, h*ps swinging, putting as much into her walk as she could, while batting her eyelashes at Nikki over her shoulder.
Nikki’s music started and she let the first few bars of Welcome to the Jungle play before she strutted onto the stage. Catcalls and whistles greeted her as she danced her way into the light and toward the crowd.
The other girls teased her for using what they called old-school music, but there was nothing like Axl Rose’s screaming voice to get the crowd wound up, and to get her own heart pumping. And for those who knew the song – those old enough to remember - they’d recognize her costume, the short skirt and sheer black stockings, with the seam up the back, from the brief glimpse of the girl in the opening shots of the video.
Even if they didn’t catch it, it didn’t matter; she really wasn’t dressed for very long anyway. She liked the song well enough, and began slowly stripping, the sheer blouse first to go, then the skirt, down to just the stockings and garter belt, sheer black bra and her ridiculously high heels. ‘Fuck me’ pumps, as Lori called them. More like break an ankle pumps. But they did make her legs long a mile long.
She worked her way down the stage, her body moving to the beat, feeling wonderful, lush and sexy and erotic. It got her all wound up, got her hot sometimes even though it wasn’t where she wanted to be. But it was her job and she might as well enjoy some part of it.
Sometimes, just to make the night bearable she’d pick one guy in the crowd and dance just for him, even if he couldn’t see she was looking at him. That one guy was her focus and she’d dance to images of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, bending her over a table and taking her hard. For that one dance, she’d make him into her ideal man. But when her dance was finished, she never sought that man out, never. It would have ruined whatever fantasy she’d created while she wiggled and shimmied her way through her set.
She wished there really was just one guy she could dance for, someone who wants her for her and not because she was a cheap stripper in a seedy club under the Interstate. Not a married guy out looking for a quick slap and tickle, but a man who would truly love her. And take her away from all of this.
Sometimes, after her routine was finished, she was so full of pent up sexual energy, and tension, that working her way through the crowd was exactly what she wanted. The hands that touched her when they shouldn’t. The power she felt when she sat some guy in a chair in a private room, knowing he had a hard on because of her, and then taking him to the edge, over and over, never really touching him, doing it all with just the movements of her body, her eyes, her words. It was a perverse kind of power, but power nonetheless. And then taking their money.
Sometimes she’d come close to an orgasm, her body infused with arousal, throbbing and aching for release. But not with any of these men. Never. It was nights like that when she’d find Lori. And then it would all be better. As much as she loved men, Lori did things to her, knew her in a way no one else did, understood her like no one else. It wasn’t perfect and even though it took care of that one physical need, it still left her feeling empty, aching for something else, a deeper connection. But she pushed that need aside.
Nikki was on her hands and knees now, back arched, slinking her way to the end of the narrow strip of stage that extended into the crowd. There were a few guys who grabbed at her, but she skillfully avoided them. There were always a few.
By the end of the song, she was at the end of the stage, eye level with the guys sitting closest. She recognized a few, gave them that special smile she reserved just for them, and gyrated through the last few bars of the song.
As the music stopped and she stood, looking up, eyes sliding over the tables of hooting men, the same every night, all turned on by the fantasy she created. The lights were hot and blinding, but through them she saw him. Or she thought she did, hoped she did. Her heart skipped a beat.
Tall, black hair, staring right at her. Again. He’d been there for three nights running and she’d hoped he’d be standing there tonight, watching her. She could never find him while she danced and she didn’t want to. But when she was finished, she’d look up and there he’d be. Their eyes would meet and for a brief moment all the noise and smells and chaos of the club would fade.
Nikki had no idea who he was, or what he did to her, but he took her breath away. And it bothered her that she even noticed him at all, that she’d started looking for him. Customers weren’t supposed to turn into anything other than money in her pocket. Getting attached to one meant trouble. She’d seen it happen all around her and she knew better.
But for the last three nights, by the time she’d gotten dressed and came back out on the floor, he’d be gone. While there were always regulars in the club, guys who came just to see here, she’d never missed them if they weren’t there and she never went searching for them, anticipated seeing them…wanted to see them. She never let herself care. Caring was too dangerous.
Lori was lounging in the dressing room, wearing a sheer robe, long legs crossed, perched on the edge of the sagging couch, long legs crossed. Nikki made a bee-line for her locker, pulling out filmy bits of clothing, flinging most of it to the floor in frustration, searching for the perfect outfit.
“You late for something, Nikki?” Lori sat up, watching Nikki intently through a haze of cigarette smoke. “Oh, wait. Your mystery guy is out there, right? I knew it.”
Lori leaned back, idly swinging one leg as she watched Nikki frantically pulling on a pair of fishnet stockings.
“You know Mack wants us to mingle, not play favorites. Even if the guy is drop dead gorgeous. And…” Lori rose, stubbing out her cigarette, stretching her arms over her head. “Even if he smells divine.”
Nikki whirled around. “How do you know what he smells like?”
Lori laughed. “You should see the look on your face, love.” She walked over, reaching out, pinching Nikki’s cheek. “I have no idea what he smells like. But you’re smitten, kitten. And that’s not wise. Mixing business with pleasure is a recipe for disaster and you know it.”
“Don’t you have some place to be, like out on the floor?” Nikki was pulling a pink baby doll top over her head, adjusting the top to accommodate her ample br**sts. Lori leaned against the wall, watching.
“Yeah, I’m getting there. Needed a rest. Rough night this morning.” Her eyes traveled over Nikki’s body. “You need help getting dressed? I’d be happy to lend you a hand.”
Nikki slapped Lori’s hand away, laughing. “I’m perfectly capable of getting dressed myself, doll.” She gave the skimpy top of her outfit another tug. “There’s just a little more of me than there is of this outfit.”
“I can see that.” Lori pushed herself away from the wall. “In your line of work, less is more, you know. Less clothing, that is. Not less of you.” She dropped her robe to the floor, checking the reflection of her tawny body in the mirror.
“I see how the guys look at you and then think I should put on a couple pounds.” She ran her hands down her sides, over her flat stomach, turning side to side.
Nikki frowned at her friend. “Why on earth would you do that? You’re beautiful, just like you are.”
“Yeah. I know…but sometimes. I see how the guys look at you.” Lori caught Nikki’s gaze in the mirror. “All those lush curves, big boobs, h*ps they can hang on to. They must imagine f**king you is like diving into a vat of whipped cream…sweet and soft and delicious.”
There was nothing Nikki could do, but laugh. She bent over, dragging a brush through her hair, trying to get it big and sexy. She flipped it back, smoothing the top.
“I guess that’s all I can do.” She pushed in front of Lori at the mirror. “Excuse me…some of us have to work for a living.” Lori sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes for effect and sauntered over to her locker.
Nikki ran a finger across her lipstick, wiping away an errant smudge, inspecting her eyeliner and mascara. She glanced over at Lori, half-dressed, still bare foot. She scowled, tapping her foot.
Lori grabbed a black g-string, pulling it up her narrow h*ps and then started tugging on a black leather bustier that fit her like a second skin. She waved her hand in Nikki’s general direction.
“Go on. You’re going to miss him if you wait for me.” She winked. Nikki left the cramped, dingy dressing room, a strange mix of anticipation and dread settling into the pit of her stomach. Recipe for disaster said it all, but the thrill outweighed all thought of caution.
The crowd was facing the stage, watching the next dancer, someone new that Nikki didn’t know. She thought her stage name was Neon, but she wasn’t sure. And right now, she didn’t really care. Her eyes were scanning the back of the room, searching for any tall man with dark hair. But there wasn’t anyone that looked like her guy.
Nikki’s heart sank and she breathed out a sigh tinged with relief. She turned toward the bar for her one free drink of the night when she felt someone at her shoulder.
“Looking for someone?”
The voice was rich and deep, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew it was him even before she turned around. She briefly closed her eyes, drew a breath and turned around, with what she hoped was a seductive smile on her lips.
“I just might be…” Her words faded as she looked at the man standing in front of her.
It was him. But up close he was even more breathtaking. Tall and lean, but muscular, with black hair cut short, exposing a chiseled, square jaw and sculpted face, this was the guy. Same black t-shirt and black jeans. Nikki’s breath caught in her throat and she knew she was staring, but she was powerless to look away and apparently just as powerless to speak.