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“You get paid by tips only. You don’t dance; you don’t get paid. On average, the girls make six hundred each a night on tips.”
“Six hundred?” She gasps, sitting up a little straighter.
“Yeah, more if you’re good. You have to be here at nine and most nights stay until three in the morning. Monday is the only day we’re closed.”
“I can do that.”
“Great.”
“And I’ll pay you back whatever it costs to fix the car.”
“Don’t worry about that. We can get even later. Right now, we need to fill out this paperwork, and you’ll be good to go. What’s your full name?”
“Hazel Marie Miller,” she says, and I write it down. Next is her birthday and social security number, which she gives to me without a problem.
“Address?”
I wait for her to tell me, but after a few seconds, she still hasn’t said anything. When I look up from the paper, she is staring at me, her eyes brimming with tears.
“What?”
“I don’t have an address in town yet,” she admits, and it finally clicks in my head. She doesn’t have a place to stay.
Putting my pen down, I fold my hands in front of me, trying to hide my excitement. She doesn’t have a place to stay, which means this little temptress is coming home with me.
5
Hazel
Myles pulls into the driveway of a modern-looking house on the outskirts of town. For the whole drive out here, I’ve been so nervous I can’t keep my hands from trembling. I barely know this man, other than he owns a strip club and apparently has lots of money. Yet I’m going to live with him in his house.
“You know I can find someplace else—”
“I already told you, you’re going to stay here, and that’s final,” he says, his voice stern. I told him from the very beginning I didn’t like this idea, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Swallowing down my fear, I get out of the car and gaze up at his home. It looks more like a large family should live here and not a single guy. I’m so engrossed by the house that I don’t realize Myles is getting all my stuff from the trunk while I just stand there.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” I rush over to him and try to grab a bag.
He pulls it out of my reach. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
We stopped back at the diner, so I could get my clothes out of my car. Myles didn’t mention it directly, but I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m homeless.
“Thank you…”
“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes it off like it’s no big deal. “You can make it up to me later.” He winks at me, and my stomach does a summersault. I don’t want to think about what he means by that.
I follow him inside, looking around the house like a kid on Christmas morning. It’s an open floor plan, simply furnished, but stylish looking. It’s very masculine, fitting Myles perfectly.
“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” He leads me up a staircase and down the hall. We pass multiple doors before he stops and opens one.
“This is it.” He walks into the room, dropping my bags next to the bed as I take in the room. The first thing I see is the queen-sized bed with a sleigh headboard and white bedding that looks like clouds. The light gray furniture all matches with touches of dark gray and light blue over the room. It looks so pretty.
I can’t believe I am actually staying here. A tiny bit of my apprehension retreats. Maybe this is not going to be so bad after all.
“What’s wrong?” Myles’s deep baritone voice interrupts my thoughts.
I didn’t even realize that I’d started crying until Myles reaches for me, his thumb wiping away the tear running down my cheek.
“Nothing… I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I guess. Today was a lot. And this room is beautiful. Your whole house is beautiful. I actually…” I sniffle. “I’ve never stayed anywhere so nice, that’s all.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them because I sound so freaking pitiful. “Please don’t feel sorry for me.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Really? Is that because you want me to do something else besides stripping for you at the club?” I almost choke on my own words when I realize what I just asked.
“There are a lot of things I want you to do to repay me, but I don’t think you’re ready for most of those yet.” His husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. “But maybe you could give me a blow job?”
“I…” That’s all I can get past the lump forming in my stomach. “I’ll pay you back with the tips I’ll make.”
“You’ll pay me back for the car, staying here, gas, and food? What about interest?”
