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1
CRICKET
* * *
“You’ve got ten minutes,” Schmidt growled, pushing an outfit at me. “Put this on and come back out. Find some shoes that fit.” He pointed to the floor behind me. The thump of the base from the song blaring in the main room came through the floor, the thin walls. The scent of stale beer and smoke lingered.
I glanced about at my new reality. The space was small, an oversized closet. A fluorescent light bar affixed to the ceiling cast everything in a harsh glare. Two moveable hanging racks flanked me, lingerie and the skimpiest of outfits hanging from them. Red lace, shiny metal lamé, cheerleader and schoolgirl skirts along with midriff baring tops. On the floor were a variety of fuck-me shoes with at least four-inch heels in all colors of patent pleather.
I glanced down to what he’d shoved in my hands. A nurse’s outfit. A white dress—if it could be called that, with short sleeves and even shorter hem—with Velcro closures on the front instead of buttons. Beneath it, I was to wear a white bikini top, made up of two tiny triangles, and a matching G-string, also white, which had a red plus sign right on the front as if my crotch was the source of medical help.
My stomach roiled at the thought of what they expected. I couldn’t go out there and strip! I couldn’t even put the outfit on.
“I can’t do this,” I said, pleading. One last time. I’d been doing it for the past two hours, ever since they’d taken me from my apartment.
“You don’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Schmidt—I assumed it was his last name, but it was all I knew him by—was in his fifties, built like a whiskey barrel, and had a cigarette dangling from his lip. I’d seen the gun in the waistband of his pants. Nothing unusual since it was Montana and everyone carried, even little old ladies, but I didn’t think his was as much for protection as enforcement of his wishes.
While he hadn’t laid a finger on me, I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do so if he wanted. Same for his sidekick, Rocky. Especially after Rocky had grabbed me and dragged me out of my apartment and to my car. I’d had no choice but to drive us to this seedy place on the edge of town. I’d had thoughts of jumping out at a stoplight, but I knew he’d just drag me back, pissed off.
Maybe it would’ve been better to have jumped into an intersection instead of being where I was now. I couldn’t get past Schmidt since he was almost as wide as the doorway, but even if I could, Rocky was looming behind him. And with both of them armed, I didn’t risk it. I didn’t think they were killers, but I didn’t put rape past them. Their way to persuade me most likely involved me on my knees or on my back.
“I paid you the amount I owed,” I reminded him. Again. Desperation laced my words.
He laughed at that, his eyes roaming over me in my jeans and plain t-shirt. “Not the interest.”
“I paid that, too. Twenty percent.”
He grinned, slowly shook his head as if he were talking to an idiot. Maybe I was one since I was standing in the back room of a seedy strip club. “Sweetheart, I told you, it’s compound interest. Didn’t you learn anything about that in the fancy college classes you borrowed money to take?”
The anatomy and physiology class I’d taken covered how his ACL would be torn if I kicked him in the knee the way I wanted, but it hadn’t had any quizzes on being screwed over by a shifty loan shark. I’d been so stupid taking money from him. I could practically see the diploma I’d worked so hard to get, except a new transmission had put me behind, no matter how many extra shifts I’d worked.
He grinned, his crooked teeth yellow. He had me, and I had a very good feeling the compound interest would never go away. I was fucked. So damned fucked.
“That outfit’s special, just for you since you’re studying to be a nurse and all.”
I was nauseated, realizing he remembered why I’d borrowed money from him in the first place. It hadn’t been to pay for a drug habit, dammit! It was college, to fucking better myself! How long had he been keeping an eye on me?
“I don’t know how to strip,” I said, licking my dry lips, stating the obvious. I could barely dance; my friends always teased me that I had no rhythm.
“You take your clothes off every damned day,” he countered. “It’s not that hard, and as long as you show those big tits and tease the guys with a glimpse of a tight pussy at the end, no one will know.”
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Sweetheart, you’re the Virgin Nurse. Everyone’s going to love watching you get your stripper cherry popped out there. You only have to strip until your debt’s paid.”
