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“There are Scrubz and Hoez. Rank is everything right,” Hack said.
“Ol’ Lady being the top of the female pyramid,” Preacher Girl retorted before focusing back on the fridge.
“Don’t let Harlow hear that, I’m pretty sure Prez’s Daughter has rank,” Hack countered.
“True.”
“Basically, Scrubz and Hoez are girls that are available for Club members only. The single ones,” Hack said glancing back in time to get the blessing from his wife on his clarification. “Hoez have more rank and are trusted by the club enough to be brought in on other levels. Porsche lives on the ranch, goes out on rescues, keeps other women in line of lower rank and also is a dancer at the Roadhouse. You’ll have to go there one night and watch her she is one of the best girl’s the club has.”
“Why did I even ask?” Mike said as Sydney came in and he led her to the door.
“It’s not what you’re thinking Hanover.”
Hack tried to rebut as if that could distance him from the picture clearly forming in his head. Porsche said if he called her Turbo, she’d be off limits for the men in the club. But that didn’t change the fact right now, if one approached her, she would be his for as long as it took to come. Daddy issues, she’s acting as if she was healed and it seemed as if she was being used just the same by the club.
“No need to explain. Look, Red offered for Sydney and I to go stay at the trailer by Maggie’s house. Thanks for letting me stay here. But I think we’ll be better living alone.”
“I agree, I was the one to suggest it to Red. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have to set up the new equipment it should be here.”
“I’ll be there. Just let me know when the supplies are in.” Mike led Sydney out the door to be greeted by Creature, dutifully sitting outside to escort them back to the trailer as a moving truck rolled up followed by a SUV. A handful of ladies got out all of which were grabbing bags of food, paper products and kitchen supplies. He watched the women interacting with the men and couldn’t help wondering what they got out of it all. Was he setting up his daughter for a life built on men and their needs by being there.
“Maybe we should let you take a nap at Maggie’s and I’ll deal with setting up the trailer.”
“I’m not tired Daddy.” Sydney skipped next to him, her badge of honor clutched in her hand before she took off running toward the group with Creature by her side. “I’m in charge, Red said I’m in charge.”
All the adults came to a halt as Creature barked to add a stamp of authority to her words and he couldn’t deny his daughter was happy. Like it or not this place was good for them. He just wished he could determine if Porsche was a positive or not. Every instinct when he is with her feels right, but is it an act? She’s a dancer and only a fool believes the stripper actually likes them.
* * *
Porsche sat down at her makeup stand in the back of the Roadhouse. Bright lights showing every flaw as she applied the concealer and transformed herself into the onstage persona. Topaz, Cinnamon and Free had stage names, but she’d never taken one on. Few did who had been brought into the club by other means. As if their road name was a legit pseudonym while on stage the world could know who they were. Or maybe it was because her parents had named her for the profession. Porsche, high end luxury with stunning lines and the ability to curve in ways once thought unreal.
Checking her phone to make sure she hadn’t hit silent or something she wondered why Mike didn’t call her. She offered to help him with Sydney, but maybe her warning about calling her Turbo set him off. Like a woman looking for an engagement ring at the end of the first date. It wasn’t her intention to scare him into commitment, but he didn’t live the life she did. Club life was different, the culture all its own and while they gave some grace to outsiders it would only be for a bit.
At this point it was too late as she tucked her phone into the locker beside the table and began creating a smokey eye. In a matter of minutes she’d be on stage and unreachable on more levels than a luxury liner. After finishing her outfit and makeup she was ready to dance. Walking out to the stage she was going to do what she loved when an escape was necessary, dance.
Strutting on stage past Lyna and making sure to give an extra thrill to the audience by running her fingers along the woman’s bare stomach. Their quick flirting pass sure to earn them both a few extra bills in appreciation as they blew kisses to each other.
A remix ofDo or Diestretching out the opening line even longer asking if you wanted to ride was her lead in as she dipped her old style cabby hat with one hand and gripped the pole with another. Swinging around and dipping low as the song moved to the backseat mention bending her back to make her ass pop before locking one leg and dangling from the pole as she spun. Arms burned a bit as she moved up then slowly back down. The mix of long, languid, drawn-out melody switching to quick, staccato raps allowing her to play up the words. Switching between fast spins and teasing dips to the end of the stage. Stripping down to her G-string and bra as the braver men approached the stage and tucked the bills, while others tossed money on the stage.
Larger bills she’d reach down for, making sure the audience saw as she brought the bigger bill between her legs and up her body. Tucked it nicely before rotating her hips on beat and bending to pick up another as one man gave in fully, raining down bills over her and holding a hundred between his fingers. She turned, crawling on all fours and seductively tempting him as she arched her neck and ran the paper over her throat and between her breasts.
The man was inches from her, but she didn’t fear his touch. No matter the size of the man in front of her his hand wouldn’t do a thing to her she didn’t approve of. While this sucker believed she was transfixed on him and Benjamin Franklin, she’d taken note of three prospects and a handful of members positioned around the place. Each one ready to pounce if his hand cupped her breast or worse. While this man wasn’t one she remembered he knew the etiquette enough to bring the bill back up to her lips and she took it between her teeth.
With a few note changes, the music was moving on and Porsche gathered the loose bills on stage while Cinnamon’s songDangerous Womanbegan playing. As before there was an exchange between the two women. Only this time it was Cinnamon shimmying Porsche’s hat as she strode on the stage with a whip in hand wearing a button-down suit coat that hit right below her cat. The woman was a newer girl, not quite in with the club. For her this was a gig, one where she made enough to get by on the few days when she crashed in town. She road with Mountain on a charity ride, but that wasn’t a move to be claimed.
Back in the dressing room she straightened her bills and locked them away. Taking a few and tucking them in the Daisy Duke cut off shorts she was going to wear along with a halter top to go out and talk to the people who’d just filled her bank.
Ax was currently free behind the bar, she waved him over. “Can I get a beer?”
“You know it,” he said. “That dance by the way, never gets old.”
“What can I say, I love the classics,” she said keeping her tone playful as he cracked the bottle open with a flick of his wrist, tossing the top backwards into a large glass vase behind the bar. A quarter filled meant they’d already dumped it once. Didn’t matter if it was a weeknight, the beer was flowing which meant money was being made.
“Here you go. Hey how is the fundraiser going? Has Dreamer showed you my shots?”
“Oh shit, I forgot about that again.” Porsche dropped her head into her hands as they splayed like a mitt. “I’ll have to ask the rest of the guys if there in or not. You’re dancing right?”
“If not, Dreamer has some explaining to do with those pictures I took.” Ax grinned as he leaned over the bar so they were mere inches from each other. “I think I made you proud baby. You know I’ll shake my ass to help out the fire department.”
