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I’m hesitant to let Stef go, but it’s not like I have a better solution. Stef gives me one last teary-eyed look before she takes Elena’s hand, and the two of them walk toward the dressing room.
Now I’m stuck with Giulio.
He’s watching me very intently, and I tense up, convinced he’s going to yell at me for having talked back to him.
Then he sighs, drinks some of the melting ice from his glass, and gets up. “Come on. We aren’t done here.”
I don’t know what that means, but I’m not keen to return to my small cell, so I follow him across the room, past the main dance stage and all the smaller tables with rowdy men. A lot of them turn to stare at me, and one man even slaps my ass as I walk past.
I yelp, whirling around and ready to give him a piece of my mind, but then I realize where I am. I remember how I’m dressed, and that Giulio could throw me to the wolves if the whim hit him. My shoulders slump, and I walk a little faster, trying to keep up with him.
I hate myself for the utter lack of self-respect, but what else am I supposed to do here?
“Where are we going?” I ask Giulio, trying to ignore the men around us.
Giulio stops in front of the bar and motions to the bartender. “Finishing up this business. Thanks for the cocktail, Jenna. Can you give me two beers? Anything that’s not total piss.”
Jenna the bartender is dressed almost as skimpily as the dancers, wearing only a bikini top and short-shorts. She nods and brings out two bottles, deftly opening them both and handing them over to Giulio. “Here you go, boss.”
Giulio nods at me. “You carry those. It’ll look sweeter coming from you.”
I take the bottles, and even though I hate the taste of beer, I’m tempted to take a big gulp from one of them anyway. Just for the distraction, maybe, to get my mind off of the fact that cum keeps leaking out of me because I hadn’t had the chance to clean up after Giulio had fucked me.
I just hope no one can see, and I’m grateful for the dark ambience of the room.
I follow him through the crowd, trying to ignore the way my feet feel on the floor, pretending I’m anywhere but here, doing anything but this.
Finally, Giulio stops at a table where Paul is talking with an agitated-looking man.
“You should comp me a few dances,” the guy says. “For like, a month. I don’t come here to get cried on.”
“I told you, I don’t have that kind of authority…” Paul answers. He looks up at our approach and his expression visibly relaxes. “Actually, ah, the boss is here.”
Giulio grins widely and waves. “Yep, hi, that’s me. Giulio Pavone. What’s your name, sir?”
The guy puffs up. “I’m Mark So… Mark Smith.”
Mark Smith, my ass, but I don’t say as much. I freeze instead, still holding the beers but not entirely sure what to do with them. I don’t want to interrupt to offer them, but I look ridiculous just holding them, too. Still, I’d rather look ridiculous than draw attention to myself.
Giulio slides into a chair easily and makes a shooing motion at Paul. “All right, I got it from here.”
Paul is eager enough to dump the problem on Giulio and wastes no time in disappearing. I catch the annoyed expression Giulio shoots at Paul, but he smooths it over into one of congeniality again.
“All right, Mark. I’m afraid I came in late here, so you’ll have to tell me your side of things. Here, have a beer, on the house, while we chat.” Giulio points at me, and I take that as my cue to set the bottles down on the table.
I don’t miss how Mark leers at me, staring very pointedly at my chest. I stand up quickly and back away, only to have Giulio’s hand rest on the small of my back. I realize Giulio wants me to sit on his lap.
For a moment, I resist simply because I’ve never really been the type to sit on a man’s lap, but I think better of it. I’m safer if I obey Giulio; Damien had made that clear, and everything I’ve seen has only pointed to that fact. If I don’t, he very well might hand me over to these men.
So I sit gingerly down in his lap, letting him adjust me to where he’s comfortable.
Still staring at me, Mark picks up his bottle and takes a long gulp. “I’m a regular, y’know? Everybody says there are better places, but I like it here. The girls aren’t pretentious. Nobody acts like they’re above anything. I don’t have to compete with guys who earn more in a day than I do in a year. All I ask is that the girls give me a nice lap dance.”
“Yeah, I get it. Clubs like Ruby’s are just so fucking exclusionary. They want you to pay like five hundred bucks for a private dance? Who’s got that kind of money?” Giulio says it so sympathetically, but I knowhehas that kind of money.
Mark eats it all up though, nodding eagerly. “Right, right? Us working class guys deserve nice things too! Like… like lap dances. With girls who are into it.”
And there it is. Girls who are into it. What does he really expect from a seedy club like this one?
