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“Stage?” I repeat.
She growls and grabs me by the wrist, leading me through the room and up three steps. “Now, keep the knickers on. That way, they’ll stick around to see what you’re hiding. We’ll put you back on later.”
“Erm, I think there’s been some kind of—”
“What’s your stage name?” she asks, cutting me off.
“But I don’t . . . I haven’t—”
“Forget it, just get out there,” she hisses, shoving me forward.
I stumble out and cheers erupt, making me jump in fright. A bright light is shone in my direction, and I automatically cover my eyes. “Gentlemen, we have a real treat for you this evening. She’s new, she’s shy, and she’s fresh out of college. Give it up for Sweet V.” The voice booms from the speakers, and I wince as men cheer in delight.
Music begins to play. “Fucking move,” hisses a voice from the left side of the stage. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
I take a few steps to the centre of the stage, taking comfort in the fact the stage light is so bright, I can’t see any of the crowd. “Dance,” the voice growls impatiently.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I came here to forget, and this is certainly a good distraction. I picture Hulk, the guy I’ve been lusting over since I was a teenager, and a smile plays on my lips. I’ve only ever danced for him, and God knows how he’d react if he could see me now. I begin to sway to the soft beat of the music, occasionally dipping my hips. It would serve Hulk right if he saw me up here—he treats me like shit, yet he’d still hate this. His jealousy would force him to react.
As I move, I run my hands up my thighs, lifting the dress higher. A few men whistle, and it spurs me on. I lift the material higher until it’s over my stomach, then I turn my back on the crowd. I have a good arse—it’s one of the things Hulk fixates on—So I lift the dress over my head and drop it to the ground. I turn back to the crowd, cupping my breasts while swaying and dipping low. The music is about to end, so I slip the bra straps from my shoulders before unfastening the back and removing it completely.
The loud cheers deafen me, and once the music stops, I smile bashfully before heading off the stage. Paris spins me back around, telling me, “Collect your cash, new girl.”
The stage lights are off, and I feel more exposed now that I can see the faces of the audience. A security guy in a black suit is standing in front of the stage, holding up a bunch of notes for me to take. “I collected them as you danced. You don’t want any of the other girls taking them on your first day,” he says with a wink.
“Thanks.” I smile, then leave the stage quickly.
I change back into my own clothes, and then a vodka bottle is thrust into my hand. “How much did you make?” asks Sandra.
“I haven’t counted it,” I say, stuffing the cash straight into my bag as the reality of what I’ve just done hits me hard. I gulp down some of the vodka and then pass it back to her.
“You never told me your name,” she says.
“I’m Piper.” The night’s alcohol is threatening to make a reappearance, and I’m pretty sure I should make my exit now before I’m shoved back out there.
“Who the hell are you?” A redhead stalks towards me with her eyes narrowed.
“Piper,” I tell her.
“Relax, Cassie, she’s the new girl,” says Sandra.
“Really? Because I have a woman out front telling me she’s here for the trial and her name matches the one I’ve been given.”
Sandra smirks but waits for me to speak. Before I can, a security man steps into the room. “The boss wants to see the new girl,” he grunts.
The redhead throws her hands up in despair. “Wouldn’t we all,” she huffs.
“I should just go,” I murmur, trying not to draw any more attention to myself.
“He means you,” the redhead snaps. “The boss wants to see you. God only knows what he’ll do to me, putting an amateur on the stage.”
“Come with me,” orders the security guy.
I glance at Sandra again, and she holds her hands in the air, still smirking. “You’re on your own with that one, I’m afraid.”
I follow him back through the bar and up some stairs. We pass the turn for the VIP area and, instead, we stop at a door opposite, the word ‘Office’ displayed on the front. The guy knocks once, and a deep voice tells us to enter. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress. I feel the alcohol wearing off with each step and dread is filling me.
The door opens and the security guy stands to one side, allowing me to step in. I gasp at the sight of Anton Martinez sitting behind the desk.Fuck.
