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As Delilah stacked my bills on the bench beside me, Tanica helped me change quickly, going so far as to help me into my bra as I finished off my bar.
“You going to be okay to go out there again?” The way Delilah eyed me made me think she paid much closer attention to me than I did to her. She looked at me the way Jen used to look at me.
And I realized how much I missed that.
Dropping my attention to my fingers in my lap, I gave a nod. “I’ll be okay.”
I had to be.
I didn’t have another choice.
“Thank you.” I swallowed against the lump in my throat, raising my gaze to them. “Both of you. It… means a lot.”
“Us dancers have to stick together.” Tanica grinned. “Besides, you can return the favor the next time I’m too drunk to walk.”
I laughed for what felt like the first time in a year. It felt good, and I would have given anything to stay there with them, basking in the comfort of not being alone. Unfortunately, the door swung open and Roscoe stuck his head in.
“You coming, or should I give this guy to Leni?”
“I’m coming.” I locked my cash in my locker, then gave a smile that was all too brief and awkward to Tanica and Delilah before rushing out, down the hall, and to the door to one of the rooms set aside for private lap dances.
Roscoe was there, concern in his eyes as he motioned me to stand in front of him. Without him even touching me, I felt like his hands were clamped on my shoulders, keeping me still.
“You know what to do if he gets handsy.” It wasn’t a question. It was barely a reminder. Mostly, it was an admonishment.
“I know.”
His eyes narrowed slightly before he dragged his gaze down my front. It took everything in me not to cover myself. Not to hide my tattooed flesh from his sight.
Finally, he stepped aside, ushering me into the room.
The click of the door behind me was enough to make me want to turn around and bolt. The man sitting in the chair in front of me looked so much like someone else.
Like Donald Baker, the CEO of Guardian Group.
Or Jim Parker, their CFO.
He wasn’t either, but it didn’t help. I could stand there wishing he’d met his watery grave at the bottom of Lake Michigan, like Jim did, but it wouldn’t help.
“There’s my beautiful serpent.” The man’s overly tanned face scrunched up in what was probably a smile, though his skin didn’t move like it was supposed to. His blond hair was almost as orange as his face, and his beady little eyes, which were red instead of white, were the first indication that he’d been drinking too much.
The second was the stench emanating from his body. It was so strong it smelled like he’d gone swimming in booze.
“Come, have a seat on daddy’s lap.”
Bile crept up my throat as he patted his thighs. My stomach churned as his jiggled like he was fucking Santa Claus when he laughed. Even the music that played through the overhead speakers wasn’t enough to take my panic away.
When I didn’t move, the man’s face morphed into what might have been a scowl.
“Get over here. I’m paying good money for this and you damn well better perform.”
I moved, but not how he wanted me to. Each fluid movement I made was meant to seduce and tempt and rile the paying customers up. I grabbed hold of the pole, hooked my tattooed leg around it and dipped down low. Shook my ass and bared my breasts and fucking finally, the world left me and I let the music guide me.
No longer was the man in the room.
No longer did I worry about his vile stench and his beady eyes and the skin on his face that wouldn’t move.
It was just me, the music, and the pole.
