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She looks to the stage and back to me, a look of jealousy and disgust crossing her face. “Oh, that’s Crystal. I wouldn’t bother with her though. She’s a frigid, moody bitch. Thinks she is too good for this place, yet here she is, doing exactly what we all are. Stripping.” She yanks her arm out of my grip and sashays away.
The song comes to an end, and, just like last night, the angel grabs up the bills and walks away without entertaining any of the catcalls being thrown her way. I am up and out of my chair, making my way to the small booth in the corner. It has a flashing neon sign sayingBook a Private Dance. I push my way in front of the two men in the queue, ignoring their disgruntled words.
“I want a private with Crystal,” I say impatiently, grabbing some notes out of my pants.
The lady, who must be pushing fifty, if not more, stares at me, her lips pursed. “Back of the line, asshole. You cut in.”
Slapping the bills on the counter, I make her jump. “I want a private with Crystal. Now how much will it cost me to have that?” I grit.
Her eyes narrow before her lips curve into a grin that screams that she’s about to make me pay extra. “One hundred dollars for the dance.” I start to count it out, stopping when she speaks again. “And a hundred for me. Just because you’re a jerk.” She flashes a look that dares me to argue. I won’t. I just want to get the angel to myself.
And I don’t care what it costs me.
Remi
“Crystal, you’re up. Room twelve,” Jason, the owner, shouts at me as I stuff money in my duffle. Slamming my locker closed, I look at him. He knows that I hate private dances. That I hate to be touched, even if he doesn’t know the reasoning behind it. As long as he’s earning his fifty-percent cut, he doesn’t care. It’s not like I can say no; it was a condition of working here, and there is no way he’ll give me special treatment. Even if I am his highest-earning girl.
I glance around the room and remind myself why the hell I am doing this, dancing in some shitty bar when it makes my skin crawl.
I’m all alone.
And I need the money since my mom left me alone with all the bills to pay. Plus, I now have school to pay for after taking a year off from my old one to work. I even got lucky, for once, and managed to win a scholarship at a prestigious school. And that shit does not come cheap. There is no way I’ll give it up after all the work I put in to win it, and if that means strutting myself on stage in front of a bunch of pervy old men or in the private rooms, then I’ll do it. I just need to keep my wits about me. Any sign that they are going to touch me or cause trouble, I’m out. No person would like a stranger touching them, but mine stems from something much more sinister. Men my mother would bring home with no regard for me. A couple of them touched me in ways they shouldn’t have. I was fortunate it didn’t go further, it could have been so much worse, but I still have the mental scars. No young girl should have to worry about grown men touching them inappropriately.
Sighing, I check my makeup in the mirror then stride out the door to the private rooms, all the while ignoring the bitchy stares from the other girls. They don’t like me, and they’ve made that clear. I am the youngest - not that they know how old I really am - and I make the most money. It’s made me a target for all their vile insults. I don’t care though. I’m here to earn money, to pay my bills, to be able to afford to eat. Nothing more, nothing less. If they have a problem with that, then that’s on them.
Stepping up outside the back entrance to room twelve, I take a breath. I can do this. Get in. Earn money. Get out. Pushing the door open, I stride in with a confidence I don’t feel, only to falter when I see the man waiting for me. My jaw slacks, eyes widen.
He is gorgeous. A god. The kind of man you see on the cover of GQ magazine with his dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He looks like a better-looking, leaner Chris Hemsworth.
I swallow. What the hell does he want with me? Why is a guy like him in a place like this?
Instead of speaking, or even moving, he sits there in his chair like a king as he runs a thumb across his bottom lip. I shuffle on my feet, nervously.
“Hey,” I greet but he doesn’t respond, just watches me. “What would you like?”
He cocks his head, his hungry eyes raking down my lingerie-covered body. I shiver under his intense gaze. I mean, I know I look hot. It’s how I got this job and why I am the top earner in this place. But with the way this man is staring at me, it makes me feel… powerful.
“Dance for me.” The rasp of his voice goes straight between my legs, making my pussy clench with need. Jesus. If I have that reaction from just the sound of him, I hate to think what he could do if he touched me.
Nodding, I move to the corner of the room where an iPod sits in a docking station. Settling on one of my favorites, Little Bird by Annie Lennox, I hit play and make my way to the raised platform with a pole in the middle. Never taking my eyes from him, I let the music consume me as I move around the pole, my hips swaying and moving sensually to the music. His gaze never leaves me as he leans back in his chair, relaxing like this is an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it is. I frown. This place doesn’t suit him.
When the song comes to an end, I drop to my knees, my back to him as I arch it up. My long, dark hair hits my feet as I lean back and get a look at him from this angle. His eyes narrow in on me, and I scramble to my feet when he pushes out of his chair and moves towards me.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stutter as he steps up in front of me. Again, he doesn’t respond, he just reaches out and runs a finger down my cheek. I pull away. “No touching the girls,” I hiss, ignoring the shiver of arousal he elicits from me.
He smirks. “I think you like me touching you.”
I step away from him and scowl. “I don’t think so.” Spinning, I make my way to the dancer’s entrance and grab the handle to pull the door open, but I’m stopped in my tracks when he speaks again.
“What’s your name?”
I glance over my shoulder at him. His hands are shoved in his pants pockets, and I have never seen such a good-looking man in my whole life. He really is stunning. My eyes drop of their own accord as I take in his body. I can’t see him fully with his clothes on, but by the way his shirt clings to his abs, I can tell he is the whole package. Hot and a good body. The kind of man women would drop to their knees for without him even asking.
My eyes snap to his when he chuckles, and an arrogant grin curves his lips. I roll my eyes. “Crystal. The name’s Crystal.” With that, I step outside and slam the door behind me.
* * *
The next night goes pretty much the same way. I do my set, grab my money, and head backstage to get ready to leave, only to be stopped when Jason shouts out my name.
