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Crystal chirps, “Girl, you ain’t lyin’. We have two boys. And the business we’re opening in the space downtown is a workout studio. Pilates, barre, pole dancing classes—you name it, I teach it. If it weren’t for coffee and protein shakes, I wouldn’t survive.”
I feel my eyebrows shoot up my forehead. “Pole dancing classes?”
She smirks and nods. “Hell yes. You probably have no idea how strong a lady has to be in order to make it as an exotic dancer. We may make it look easy, but I promise—you know what a pecan looks like getting popped open by a nutcracker?” At my nod, she finishes, “These legs could do that to any meathead at the gym’s… well… meathead.” She giggles sweetly, even though there’s an evil little gleam in her eye. One glance at Antonio shows he feels nothing but pride in his woman’s strength.
Crystal continues, “Which takes a lot of working out and muscle building. And since I stopped performing professionally when I got pregnant with our first son but didn’t want to lose this body I worked so hard for, I decided to make an income by teaching new girls how to pole dance, which was a workout for myself as well. That was when we lived in Vegas. When we moved here, some ladies answered my ad about the classes who weren’t dancers but wanted to learn anyway, whether for themselves or to show off for their partner. And when they all loved it and said they’d be dropping their gym memberships to do my classes as their workout instead, I did some research and found out other small studios were offering pole dancing as an alternative form of exercise. I kinda just went off what they were doing, and now, a few years later, I have enough members that I need the bigger space. Luckily, it’s just right across the street from my original spot we got when we first moved to town.”
“Across the street? That means?—”
Seth interrupts, his ADHD hyping him up, “She was in the place on the other side of our security office.”
“The one with the black-out curtains that are never open?” I ask, having wondered what that storefront was but had never taken the time to figure it out. My attention was always pulled to the other next-door neighbor of the Imperium Security office. Club Alias. Which also has an ominous-looking entrance.
“Yep. We didn’t think our non-stripper ladies would want to be stared at from the sidewalk while they’re trying to learn how to dance on a pole,” Crystal explains.
Antonio adds, “Or cause traffic accidents on the one-way street we’re on.” He chuckles. “One peek through the window and there would be a daily pile-up. Especially if my woman was the one on the pole, giving instructions.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her again, and she slaps his chest, rolling her eyes, even though I can see the pleased look in them at his compliment.
Another thought occurs to me then. “So that means your old space opened up. Do you know if it’s still available? My sister has been toying with the idea of opening a ballet studio for a while now.”
“As far as I know, it is. And even better, it wouldn’t be much work to change it from an exotic dance studio to a ballet one. Since we’re taking the poles with us and all.” Crystal smirks, and we all laugh.
With that idea in my head to ponder on and present to Astrid, my earlier sullenness disappears, at least for now. We close up shop and put out the lunch-break sign, the four of us strolling next door for some much-needed coffee and more fun conversation to get to know each other.
All the while, a part of me still can’t wait to get back to my store to feel up the sex doll.
CHAPTER 2
Twyla
“Guess who went poopoo on the pottyyy!” Astrid sings in greeting as she opens her front door to let me in, and I glance from her bright, excited grin down to the dark-haired four-year-old with black-rimmed glasses that match my own. Her hazel eyes twinkle as she smiles at me, minus her father’s mischief, since she’s a little angel child who is never anything but sweet to her mommy.
I kneel right on the threshold and open my arms, and Luna runs into them, squeezing my neck tightly as I stand and pick her up. “You went all by yourself?” I ask her, my tone telling her how proud I am. She’s had constipation issues since she was a baby, so going number two has been quite the obstacle, even though she’s been potty trained since she was two.
She nods vigorously, her little baby-toothed smile making my heart clench. “Yes, Mama! And Uncle Neil got me popsicles after he saw the size of it. He said, ‘Good grief, Luna. That’s the size of a whole popsicle,’” she mimics in a deep voice. “And it made me want a popsicle, so he went and got me a whole box of them!”
I look over at my sister, trying to hide my slightly disgusted face from my daughter. Astrid reads the question in my eyes.
“Apparently, your husband likes to see what comes out of her so he can congratulate her on a job well done. Neil happened to walk by the bathroom just as she finished, so the next thing I knew, he was on FaceTime with Seth, showing him what was in the toilet.”
I groan as I put Luna back on her feet, finally stepping into the house and shutting the door behind me. I reach down and pet Scout, Neil and Astrid’s Australian Shepherd, who has come to greet me, as I tell my sister, “Oh, God. It’s spreading. It was cute at first, when it was just Seth. But then suddenly she started demanding I take pictures of it to send him when he’s at work if he doesn’t answer a FaceTime call. And now she’s getting you guys to do it too?”
Astrid gives me an evil grin. “You know kinks are hereditary, right? Our girl likes her praise… just like her mom and auntie!”
I smack her on the arm and shudder. “Stop it. She’s four.”
She holds her hands up. “Hey, don’t blame me. We can’t help we still love to be called a good girl. We just didn’t realize how… motivating it was when we were young too.”
“Gross.” I give her a face as mine flushes, then hang my purse on the coat tree in the foyer and follow her into the kitchen, seeing Luna head in the direction of the living room with Scout, where I hear an episode of Gabby’s Dollhouse playing from the TV. As I hike up one leg to sit on a barstool at the kitchen island, I sigh, slumping my upper half over the white marble.
“What’s the matter, little sis? You’ve seemed down the past couple of days. Everything all right?” Astrid asks, and I pull myself up to prop my head in my hand.
“I don’t know. It’s like… just a second ago. You so easily mentioned having a praise kink, as if that’s a normal thing to slip into a conversation. And yes, I’m your sister, and we talk about everything, so like… why do I still get all red and embarrassed about it? Shouldn’t I be immune to it by now?”
She waves her hand at me as she uses the other to open the refrigerator, as if to swat away my worries. “Oh, Twy. That’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s adorable that you still get all blushy over stuff like that. Your innocence is part of your charm.” When I don’t respond, she looks at me as she sets a variety of fresh fruits on the island between us, and her smile falls when she sees I have tears in my eyes. “Sis! What—? This is really concerning you?”
I swipe at the tears that spill when I shake my head, even though my mouth says, “I know it’s silly.”
Astrid hurries around the island and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down to squeeze my head to her chest. And like always, she’s the one to take my glasses off my face so she can tighten her grip, surrounding me in her familiar, comforting scent. I have no choice but to allow her T-shirt to absorb my tears and whatever might be coming out of my nose.
