She stuck out her lower lip to Occum. He roughly pushed her off his lap. He smacked her ass loudly as she walked away. She giggled but I recognized that hidden wince. Those booty shorts didn’t cushion against the sting of a flat palm or pinch.
“Shoo,” I said and waved her away with one hand and dabbed sweat off my neck with a towel.
She scurried out of the room. Maison might call me a name now, but at least she didn’t have to do something she may regret later. I wish I could tell her that she didn’t have to prove herself that way, that there were other ways to earn your value, but I wasn’t exactly a showcase example myself.
“Next time. You knock.” Occum leaned back in his chair and adjusted his jeans.
“Sure thing, babe.” Men had to be stroked just right. Especially their egos.
I laid the bills out in front of him, still damp from being thrown on stage, covered in beer or various body fluids.
“That it?” he asked.
“‘Course,” I said.
“Good night.” He flipped through the cash, counting it out. He gave a small frown of approval behind his scraggly beard. He took half the cash.
“Hey, what gives?” I spoke without thinking.
“Excuse me?” He stilled on his way to the safe behind the desk and looked up at me with yellow eyes.
They didn’t call me Short Fuse Suze for nothing. I couldn’t stand by and let him take half the money I worked my booty off for. Usually, he only took twenty percent.
“I got bills.”
“You mean you gotta support your daddy’s habit.”
“I need that money.” I smoothed my hair into a twist over my shoulder. It wasn’t any of his damn business.
“Yeah, well your real family needs it more. This is for keeping your top on. You know what they’re paying for.”
I ground my teeth. I had tried to get away with staying dressed. I wore an outfit that was basically like being naked but it still wasn’t enough. Even though I made more tonight than most of the other girls did in weeks. I bit my tongue. Better blood in my mouth than blood on the ground. I stared longingly at the bills. The things I could do with that money. The money I earned through sweat and bruises and rough hands.
“About that.” I bit back the overwhelming desire to yell at him, remembering what my main goal was here. “I heard about the VIP stage you’re building.”
“What did you hear?” He leveled me with a look.
“That it’s gonna be upstairs, in the new level. That’ll be like a Vegas show.”
“Right.” He stroked his long beard, face unreadable. “And?”
“I was thinking—”
“And isn’t that the problem. What did I tell you about that?” He quirked a smile at his own joke. One I’d heard a thousand times.
I squared my shoulders and plowed on. I’d been working up to this for some time. Even if I was scared shitless, I had to ask. “What if I stopped stripping down here and I put on a real show. I have some real good dances, actually, I’ve got lots of fans on Instagram—”
“No stripping?”
“I wouldn’t get naked, not completely, but I’d put on an actual show. I could do big dance numbers with the other girls, have fun costumes, stuff like that.”
“Short Fuse. You’re my main girl.” He patted his lap. “Come ’ere.”
“Thanks.” I flipped my hair off my shoulder and started twisting it up into a knot to get it off my sweaty neck. I didn’t show any hesitation as I went to his lap but dang, I was so tired. I didn’t want to do the flirting thing tonight. I was so tired of the games.
“You’re damn good at what you do. I expect the best from you.”
I fell into his lap and threw my arms around his neck, making sure to press my breasts into him. “Thanks, babe.”
