Chapter 2
RALEIGH
Stripping at a birthday party, even one held at the Lactin Brotherhood’s prestigious kink club, has a way different vibe than stripping at Hot n’ Bothered, the full-on strip club I’d been working at since I was eighteen.
Couldn’t legally have a beer, but I could dance for horny, drunk customers who catcalled some of the lewdest things I’d ever heard in my life, and I grew up in foster care.
Tonight, I was poised on a table with a pole sticking out of the center, decked out head to toe in leather, performing for the men currently ogling me from their seats.
Of course there were mugs on the table along with a couple bottles I kept having to avoid as I gripped the pole, flipped over, and slid upside down on it to smile at them.
Someone stuffed a bill in my mouth, which was utterly disgusting, but it was a twenty, so I wasn’t about to spit it out and act all offended by it.
As soon as I got to the back I was gargling, though, because holy shit, ick, ick, ick.
It wasn’t the first time someone had done that either, rather than allowing me to pluck it from between their fingers with my teeth.
To most of them, guys like me were just pretty pieces of eye candy they could treat with as much indifference as their blow-up dolls.
I caught a glimpse of Murry’s glittering pink and silver platform boots running up his legs to end at mid-thigh, a swatch of skin dusted with sparkles, offering a peek-a-boo effect between the boots and his boy shorts.
His tank top clung to his toned upper body as he worked the pole.
After seven years in the business, there weren’t many tricks we couldn’t pull off on one.
I moved on at the end of the song, with a few more bills tucked in my clothes, along with the soggy one I’d shoved down the front of my G-string the moment I’d had the opportunity.
I’ve made a big show of it too, rubbing it down the front of my body, collecting sweat and glitter on its path south.
Oh well, in less than thirty minutes I could shower off completely, as well as brush my teeth, and besides, no one at the bank ever seemed to care that the money I deposited had a bit of a shimmer to it as long as the bills passed their counterfeit tests.
As I danced my way up the aisle between tables, people were supposed to keep their hands to themselves; that was one of the rules. Most nights they followed them, but every now and again some fucker decided to smack my ass, pinch it, or attempt a grope.
Why, I didn’t know, but it always startled the hell out of me when it happened, and of course, it happened tonight.
Yelping, I whirled around, glaring at the offender, but before I could even flip the fucker off, Phoenix, one of several badass bouncers paid to keep that shit from taking place, had yanked the guy up out of his seat and was growling some rather threatening things at him as he turned him around and started frog-marching him towards the door.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. I hoped the door cracked him on the ass on his way out, though knowing Phoenix, he might just launch the guy and be done with it. He hated when people put their hands on one of us.
A short time later, I stalked into the backstage dressing room and straight to my locker, where there was always a bottle of Scope on the top shelf beside my toothbrush.
With bills sticking out of my G-string in every which direction, I bent over the sink and brushed my teeth until even the thought of that bill in my mouth began to fade.
“Oh my goddess, I am so ready for two nights off,” Murry groaned when he joined me a short time later.
By then, I’d stuffed the bills in my bag and was digging out clothes, eager to grab a shower while there was still plenty of hot water, since we’d been assigned the early shift tonight.
By early, it meant we were getting out at midnight instead of two in the morning when the club actually closed, and yeah, the place was popular enough that it stayed pretty damned crowded until then, which was nice when we were on late, which was rare these days, thank the goddess.
The newer dancers were typically the ones who covered those last two hours, giving them an opportunity to hone their craft when the place wasn’t packed damn near to capacity.
The club was poppin’, thank goodness, because that meant Murry and I never had a hard time paying the bills on our apartment or fueling the few guilty pleasures we had.
Extravagance wasn’t in our vocabulary, but we were both seafood lovers and candle fiends.
Between the two and a variety of streaming services we used to indulge in the movies we loved, we lived what, for us, was a life of luxury.
“Saw you make a beeline off the floor the moment James tapped you on the shoulder.” Murry said as he straddled the bench and stared across our bags at me.
“Because some fucker decided it would be cute to stuff a twenty in my mouth,” I grumbled, grimacing as the memory of that nasty-ass taste came back full force.
He grimaced too and reached out to brush a lock of hair back from my face. “I’m sorry; some people are just dicks.”
“Tell me about it,” I huffed, nuzzling into his touch.
“Hey, do you two have a sec, or were you about to jump in the shower?” Phoenix asked, his shadow falling over us as he leaned against the lockers.
“Always have a minute for you,” Murry replied.
“Good, ‘cause I’ve been digging into that guy from the birthday party who gave me his card the other night,” Phoenix replied.
“Creep or wackjob?” I asked, the cynic in me rearing its ugly head.
It wasn’t the first time someone had given us a card and asked if we’d ‘model’ for them, and each time it had turned out to be for video porn or graphic nudes.
Phoenix always shut that shit down hard for us, so we didn’t have to deal with the assholes, which was nice, because my snarky ass hated confrontation, despite how many times I’d been told that I had a mouth on me that tended to incite it.
Chuckling, Phoenix cracked a rare smile before answering.
“Neither. Dude is actually legit. Former model turned clothing designer. I checked out his website and social media; he’s strictly on the up and up.
Didn’t come across any complaints from previous models accusing him of being creepy or inappropriate with them, either, and I checked thoroughly and even contacted a handful of them just to get a feel for what the shoots were like. ”
“So, he really does design pet play gear?” Murry asked. “How cool is that? I wonder if he’s ever made a bunny suit. It’s difficult to choose from the cosplay ones whenever I want something edgy.”
“Actually, I did see some bunny gear on the website for his shop,” Phoenix explained. “And a ton of kitten gear too, including a cream-colored tabby that a certain someone might want to try and snatch up before someone else grabs it.”
Perking up, I turned my attention from Murry’s hand still stroking my cheek to where Phoenix stood watching us. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah.”
“It’s been over a year since I’ve gotten new kitty gear,” I remarked, practically purring at the thought.
“There ya go,” Phoenix said. “I’d say it’s safe for you to call him and set up an appointment to meet and talk about what he’d like you guys to do, but I’d still like you to loop me in on when it will take place so I can go with you. It’s not that I don’t trust you to take care of yourselves….”
“It’s that you don’t fully trust him yet to not make it necessary,” Murry finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, we can do that,” I said. “I’d actually prefer it. We don’t know fuck all about modeling or what to look for in a contract if he asks us to sign one.”
“All good then,” he replied. “Do you want me to come back in twenty minutes and walk you out?”
“Naa, we should be fine tonight,” I replied. “There haven’t been any lurkers in the parking lot lately.”
“Okay, but if you see any unfamiliar faces, you turn your asses around and come back in and find me,” he declared.
“Aw, are you spoiling to toss someone else headfirst into a bush?” Murry asked, batting his lashes at him.
“Gotta stay in practice,” he remarked with a wink.
“Uh-huh, we all know you get a thrill out of seeing how far you can toss someone,” I said.
“I’m not going to deny it.”
“Good, ‘cause we both know it will be a lie.”
“Hey, Phoenix, are you in here?” A voice bellowed, echoing through the locker room while Phoenix rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, what do you need?” He hollered back.
“Me, nothing, but James is itching to talk to you about something, and he doesn’t look happy about whatever it is, either.”
“Joy,” Phoenix groaned, shoving away from the wall. “Guess that’s my cue to leave you to it.”
“Thanks for digging into this Mr. Dorian for us,” Murry said.
“No problem, it’s what I do,” he remarked as he started heading for the door.
“You do way more than that for all of us, and every last one of us appreciates it too,” I called after him.
“Appreciate me with one of those decadent crab cakes the next time you make them, and this time, don’t skimp on the creamy garlic butter sauce,” he said, chuckling as he yanked open the door.
“You got it,” I replied before it banged shut behind him.
“Ready to get cleaned up so we can go home and do absolutely nothing for two whole days besides nibble yummy things and veg out in front of the television?” Murry asked.
“Hell yeah.”
At home, we tended to indulge in long, hot showers that grew steamy in ways that had nothing to do with the heat of the water.
Here, we had enough respect and consideration for our fellow dancers to not only shower together to conserve water but also to wash each other quickly and get the hell out without using up too much of the hot water supply.
It took time to blow-dry our hair too, but my motorcycle didn’t offer much of a wind buffer, even with helmets on, so that was one step of our routine we never rushed through.
Outside, the night was cooler than normal, due to the storms that had been rolling through the region all week.
The much-needed rain had been nice, even if it meant we’d had to use a ride share to get to work instead of riding in on my baby.
I was glad the storm systems had moved west of us, because I needed a bit of wind therapy after dealing with some of the assholes who’d been in the club tonight.
We’d just reached the bike when I noticed Murry hadn’t zipped his jacket up, so I turned to do it for him when someone grabbed my wrist and twisted, yanking me a half-step away from him.
“You got me tossed out of there, you little shit,” the guy growled, and damn if it wasn’t the bastard who’d smacked my ass.
“I’m about to do worse than that if you don’t fucking let go of me,” I snapped, tugging and twisting my hand, trying to pry my wrist free of his bruising grip. Only in the heat of the moment, I couldn’t remember anything of the self-defense lessons Murry had shared with me.
It was a good thing he was there, even if I hated him being in the line of fire. It was clear that the asshole didn’t see him as a threat, either, because he just scoffed when Murry snarled at him to let me go and gripped tighter.
“If you don’t take your hand off of him, I will break every bone in it and your jaw to your boot,” Murry said, grabbing the guy’s wrist.
You could see the shock in his eyes when Murry hit some pressure point that forced him to turn me loose, then spun him around and gave a hard enough shove that the guy wound up sprawled face-down on the pavement, not that Murry stopped there.
He issued a swift kick between the guy’s legs for good measure, just to ensure he didn’t get back up before we took off.
We didn’t bother buckling our helmets properly, just shoved them on our heads before I fired up the bike and got us the fuck out of there, Murry clinging to me as we barreled up the street.
The moment we got home, I whipped out my phone and shot a text to Phoenix, telling him what the fuck had taken place, though I was certain the guy was long gone by then.
Meanwhile, Murry paced, muttering threats and curses beneath his breath, hands still trembling from the adrenaline rush.
As soon as I hit send, I carefully removed his helmet and set it on the back of the bike so I could frame his face with my hands.
“Thank you,” I murmured as I leaned in and brushed a kiss across his lips.
“What the fuck is wrong with people? Like, seriously, it’s like their wires are all fucked up!
It shouldn’t be an issue to walk from the door to the fucking bike without someone popping out of nowhere getting grab happy.
How do they not get that stripping is our job, not an invitation to treat us like fucking sex dolls or something? ”
“Breathe, Murr,” I remarked, keeping my voice low in the hopes that it would get him to lower his before one of our neighbors poked their heads out of their window to see what was going on. “Just take a moment and breathe.”
One or both of us would likely snap at them and instantly regret it, since we actually enjoyed living in harmony with other people in the building, unlike some of our dealings with the folks at the rooming house we’d lived in before here.
“What I’d like to do is take a sledgehammer to that son of a bitch’s fingers, so he’ll think twice about putting them on someone again without their consent.”
“Hopefully, the boot to the balls you gave him will have the same effect.”
“It better, or so help me, I will make him sorry he ever even thought about touching you.”
“No, you won’t,” I declared, putting a bit of bass in my voice in the hopes that it would get him to settle down and focus for a moment. “You will let Phoenix do what he does best if the asshole shows up at the club again.”
“Fine, but from now on, whether we think there is going to be an issue or not, we let him walk us to your bike,” Murry replied.
“Agreed. Now, let’s head inside, and I’ll rub your feet while you find us a movie to watch.”
I felt the tension start to drain out of him at the promise of a foot rub until he finally nodded.
“I’d love that, but I want to take a look at your wrist first, okay?” he said. “How does it feel?”
“A little sore, but no real harm done.”
“There better not be.”
“I swear, sometimes you’re as bloodthirsty as Phoenix.”
“Only when it comes to you.”