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She stands before Riccardo in an itty bitty piece of red lingerie that barely covers the necessities. With blonde locks twisting and twirling down her back, she’s a mess of skin, hair, and sexual appeal. “Are you the bachelor?” She bites her bottom lip as if just asking him a question gets her off.
Riccardo nods his head as fast as he can. “I’m whatever you want me to be, honey.”
I suck in a breath to keep from punching him. I don’t know what comes over me, but it’s something akin to jealousy. I look from my brother to the dancer and find myself entranced by the show she puts on. She climbs atop him and grinds her body against his, and I’m torn between ripping Riccardo’s head off and sitting back to watch.
Then, as the DJ changes the song, she makes eye contact with me for a moment. I can’t figure out if her eyes are green or brown. The corners of her lip twitch, and she gives me the smallest smile before returning her attention to my brother.
“I need a drink.” I step away before I do something drastic. The bar is across the room, and I walk up to the scantily clad woman slinging beer and pouring shots. She’s pretty in a dull sort of way, but I know that’s the thunderbolt talking.Colpo di fulmine; love at first sight. The kind of love that hits you like lightning, so powerful and intense that it can’t be denied.
“What can I get ya, suga’?” The bartender leans halfway across the bar to give me a glimpse of her tits. If I want her, I can have her. She makes it clear from the smile on her lips to the way she presses her cleavage together.
“Jack, straight.” I don’t want her, though. I’ve been hit with the thunderbolt. I don’t even know her name, but I know that I have to have her.
2
HAVANA
PRESENT DAY
“He’s back again tonight.” The house mom, Hattie, pokes her head around the dressing room mirror, wearing a scowl.
I try not to let her notice that her announcement makes me nervous. “Oh, he is?” Do I sound as nonchalant as I’m pretending to be? I poke myself in the eye with my eyelash wand. “Shit.” A tear starts to well up, and I try to blink it back before it ruins my makeup.
“Havana,” she scolds me quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do not mess around with that boy; do you hear me?”
I hear her. I’ve been hearing her. After his brother’s bachelor party, Lorenzo Riva has been showing up to Mustangs on a steady 2-night a week diet. He’s here on Fridays and Saturdays, just like me. “I’m not getting involved with anyone, Hattie. I’m focused on my career right now.”
She gives me a harrumph that says she doesn’t think much about my career. “Filming you doing stuff to yourself isn’t a career,” says the high and mighty Harriet Englewood.
With the tears successfully blinked back before they can fall, I start to put on my lipstick. I’m surprised that my hand doesn’t tremble. “I make more money than you do, Hattie.”
She huffs and she puffs like she’s going to blow my house down, but she can’t negate the facts. Being an OnlyFans model isn’t something I’d put down on a business resume, but it pays the bills. “Whatever,” Hattie huffs after a minute. “I’m just saying. When he tips you like he owns you, remember that he doesn’t. Clear?”
She’s been pushing this agenda since Lorenzo became a regular. She never really told me why, but I can guess. The owners don’t like Lorenzo and therefore don’t want any of their girls getting involved with him. But they don’t have to worry about me because I’m a good girl. I’d never get involved with a man that throws around hundred dollars bills like they’re used tissues.
Hattie walks away, mumbling something about girls these days having no self-respect. She sees stripping as the oldest profession, but God forbid women want to do it online for money. Starting an OnlyFans wasn’t the first line of work I considered when my second-grade teacher asked what I wanted to be when I grew up; it’s just what I lucked into.
I finish my makeup as Cherry comes off stage and into the dressing room. Her tits bounce freely, and she doesn’t bother covering them when she walks to my station. “Hey, girl, your big spender is back. Want me to take care of him for ya?” She asks with a grin. “I know you won’t blow him in the Diamond room, but I sure as fuck will for a handful of hundies.”
It isn’t like he’s propositioned. Lorenzo Riva is nothing but respectful when he comes to see me. He gets a few dances, asks me how life has been, and then tells me about the colorful aspects of his day. You could say we’re work friends. I’m only here on Fridays and Saturdays, and so is he. I’m doing my job, heisthe job. “I’ll get him,” I sigh heavily, but I can’t help but smile. All the girls have regulars, but I’m the only one with a regular that brings her flowers and asks her out every week.
It isn’t like I turn him down because I like watching his face fall whenever I say no. I just made a rule when I started working here a year ago that I wouldn’t date the customers. For starters, Hattie forbade it. She said it set a bad precedent for customers to come in and see you sucking face with another customer. Suddenly we’d have men lining up for blocks to make out with a stripper, and it’s hard to tell a group of guys that a woman just wants to be monogamous while also showing off her tits for money.
If it wasn’t for that one pesky little rule, sure, maybe I’d let Lorenzo take me out on a date. I’m sure he probably expects to lavish money on me and get sex in return, but he’s a good-looking older man. I don’t think I’d mind having sex with him for money.
“Well, any time you want a break,” Cherry calls after me as I head toward the main room, “I’ll happily take Mr. Money Bags off your hands!” She makes me laugh, and the smile on my face is genuine when I step through the doors of the club.
I spot Lorenzo immediately. He sits at his usual table with a glass of water in hand. Usually, he drinks whiskey with his boys, but tonight he’s alone. He’s his own designated driver, and he’s drinking to sustain sobriety.
I saunter over to him and question my motives with every step.Am I entertaining him because he’s a customer or because he’s handsome? Am I taking his money because he gives it freely or because I hope he’ll secretly save me one day? Am I talking to him because it’s my job or because the owner expressly forbids it?I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.
“Bellissima,” he greets without getting to his feet. “You look ravishing tonight.”
He pays me in compliments just as he does in hundred-dollar bills. “Lorenzo, welcome back. You’re causing quite a stir tonight.” Everyone and their mother knows that he’s here.
A perfectly coifed eyebrow yanks up like an arrow. “Am I?” He asks with a grin. “Am I stirring anything in you, Havana?”
Whenever he says my name, I regret telling him who I was. I go by Sterling onstage, but after the first month of Diamond room dances and intimate conversations, I admitted my real name. Now when he says my name, it sounds like he’s calling me back to bed. “You know that you’re my favorite customer.”
