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Think of the money.
Disgusted, I go to remove the first strap of my bra and hesitate. My legs wobble as I think of all the eyes on me—all themaleeyes.
“Think of the money,” I mumble under my breath as I drag down the strap, willing my hand to stop shaking.
I look up, locking eyes with the handsome stranger. His gaze smolders as he holds my stare hostage. But he looks different now. Tenser. The cords in his neck stand at attention.
Is he angry? Did I do something wrong? I mentally go over everything in my routine, like a checklist.
No, I’ve performed everything flawlessly—better than what’s expected for a newbie.
Uncertain, I continue to watch him. My hand goes to pull down the other strap. The handsome biker shakes his head ever so slightly. Is he telling me no?
Weird. Why would this man stop me? He’s here for a striptease, for crying out loud. Of course, he wants to see me naked. And yet the fiery glare he’s giving me screams for me to stop.
“Opal, think of the money,” I hear Starlight yell offstage over the music.
It’s the moment I realize I’ve frozen on stage, my hands cupping my breasts, stopping the material from falling the rest of the way.
“What the fuck, Opal?! Strip, you stupid bitch,” Benny shouts.
I should do as I’m told if I want to keep this job, but I can’t. The green-eyed biker has me pinned in place, unable to cooperate nor wanting to.
“OPAL!” Benny bellows louder.
Somehow, I’m able to tear my gaze away from the biker and face Benny.
“Strip,” he orders.
But I don’t want to expose myself to any of these strangers. This entire experience is extremely uncomfortable, shame and embarrassment flooding my emotions. The backs of my eyes sting as tears threaten to break loose. I shake my head with a trembling bottom lip.
By this point, the music has stopped, and the club has fallen silent. Benny bares his teeth, pointing at the stage. “I said STRIP!”
Scared of Benny’s outburst, the first of my tears track down my cheeks. I shake my head fervently. “I can’t.”
Benny storms up the stage stairs, heading for me like a bull charging a waving red flag. Reflexively, I drop into a cower, trying to make myself as small as possible. Benny grabs me roughly by the bicep, trying to shake my hands free of my death grip on my breasts. The material slips away, but my hands conceal as much of me as possible, which isn’t much.
A hand whips out of nowhere and captures Benny’s wrist, twisting it roughly behind his back at an unnatural angle. Benny arches on his toes, squealing in pain.
The bouncers try to intervene, but the bikers stop them.
“Touch her again, and I’ll rip your hands clean off,” the green-eyed biker threatens with a low, husky twang. He restrains Benny effortlessly.
Jeez, this man is strong.
The biker looks at me, his fierce eyes softening as they take me in. “You okay, Gorgeous?”
Am I okay?Without thinking, I shake my head.
The biker looks back down at Benny, his lips curled into a sneer. He yanks up on Benny’s arm, making him howl.
“Ease up, man,” Benny pleads, sweat building on his brow. “This here is my club and my girl. If she’s not performing, I’m losing money. She knew the rule when she got on the stage—there’s no backing out.”
“Does she look like she wants to do this, you sweaty ball-sack? She said no. I don’t fucking know her, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable,” the biker says with an edge of hostility.
Benny snivels. He’s not used to not having the upper hand, and he’s not in a position to argue.
Flabbergasted, I stare back at the handsome biker. I understand he’s defending my honor, but I don’t want him to hurt Benny… Okay, well, maybe a little. But I don’t want him dead.
