Chapter 10
Daisy
Nearly two weeks had gone by since my short “vacation” from work. I was only out a couple of days because Tony said makeup would cover up the fading bruise. He was right. He made sure we had high-end makeup, and our costumes weren’t cheap. Even our thongs were the pricey kind.
A few of the girls were former hair stylists. They kept our locks in good shape and dyed them, though there were no crazy colors. Tony said that was for cheap whores. Apparently, we were high-end whores. I wouldn’t know since I didn’t really know how much I earned here. But after the last incident, I was even more driven to add to my hidden stash and find a way to slip out of here for good.
I had done well on tips since I got back, some of the regulars giving me extra since I was out sick a few days. I guess they had to be told something if they asked about me, and getting bitch slapped by the boss probably didn’t sound as good as having a cold.
One night, I got my hopes up when a few men walked in with leather vests on, but they were shattered when Mr. Hazel Eyes wasn’t with them. I wasn’t trying to keep thinking of him, but he kept popping up in my dreams, and sometimes I’d see his face when I was giving someone a dance. And when I had to go to the party room, I’d squeeze my eyes shut and pretend it was him.
You’d think you’d get used to it, but the longer I had to be here, the more I hated it. I never minded dancing, even fully nude. And after leaving home as soon as I hit eighteen, it was the quickest, easiest way to earn money. But in other clubs, I was in control. I chose to be there. I made a stupid amount of money for a few days of work a week. It wasn’t easy work by any means. You try dancing and walking around in platforms for six hours a night.
Still, I was making more than most people and was simply someone’s fantasy. I even had a few couples as regulars that came in and got warmed up then went home and had a blast together. I only knew because they told me. It was easy to compartmentalize being friendly with customers then later stepping into my fantasy role. Sure, they could touch a little but only in safe zones, and I was in total control.
Although, my friendly demeanor and trusting ways were what ultimately got me into trouble multiple times. We got a new bouncer after I had been there a few years, and he was dreamy. He walked me to my car after my shifts, snuck little sweet treats into my locker, and seemed so swoony and smitten.
It was great for a year. And he seemed so normal. So perfect. Lots of my friends kept telling me how amazing it was that he was so cool with me still dancing. But he met me there, so I figured he was trusting of me and secure with himself and our relationship. Plus, he worked when I did. But over time, he changed. We changed. He started questioning me when I wanted to go out with friends, then he started asking what took me so long at the gym, eventually even questioning my time at the grocery store.
I didn’t notice it until he started wanting to go everywhere with me. At first, I thought it was cute and sweet, he just wanted to be with me. But eventually, he started demanding I stay in with him. Then he started talking shit about my friends. Not all of my friends were dancers, but he would still find something wrong with them.
I started to withdraw, even when we were together. I hoped if I forced a little distance that he would see what he was doing. When he questioned me, I finally just told him he was smothering me, and it upset me that he wanted to control everything I did and everyone I spent time with. I was a grown woman and had taken care of myself for several years alone before he came along. And honestly, I made way more money than he did so I didn’t have to worry about being kicked out on my ass.
But he didn’t take well to that talk. He accused me of cheating, planning to leave him, using him. You name it, he threw it at me. I was hurt that he would say such things, especially when there was literally no way I could be cheating since he was stuck up my ass, but I still was tired of it. I told him I was done until he could get it together.
He became explosive, breaking chairs, tossing lamps, screaming. I was able to get out, but just barely. I ran past him, grabbing my keys on the way, and drove to a friend’s house. I didn’t even have shoes on. But I wasn’t going to stay and see if he hit me.
My friend had some extra clothes and shoes to hold me over that night. I went to my house the next day and he wasn’t there. I figured maybe he took the hint after I didn’t return any messages or calls all night. So, I showered, picked up the mess he made, making note of several big holes in the wall he must have made once I was gone, then drove to work, hoping he’d cooled off.
When I showed up, he was there already and something in him had snapped. He came after me in the dressing room and I tried to tell him to get out, but he had both hands around my throat before I could finish the sentence. Luckily the other girls didn’t just stand around, they went and got help.
Two other bouncers had to come peel him off of me and held him until the cops arrived. I was shaken but thought after getting locked up, he’d be done with his shit. Man was I wrong.
After three months of having locks changed, doors fixed, restraining orders, realizing those were barely worth the paper they were printed on, having a chunk of hair yanked out, getting fired, and finally having all my friends turn me away because they feared for their own safety, I was at my wits end. It was either stay and wait for him to kill me while I ran out of money or get the hell out of town and drive until I couldn’t anymore.
And that’s what I did. Literally. I drove east from Ohio until I ran out of road. I ended up somewhere near Jersey. I found a hotel that took cash, took a hot shower, and got some sleep.
The next day, I set about finding work. Once I found a place I liked, I’d planned to find an apartment nearby. Before I could even try, I met Tony at a donut shop. He paid for my coffee. He was patient, listened to all my problems, and slowly swept me off my feet.
He had money, cars, was well dressed, and he seemed like such a professional and mature man. Not like a twenty-five-year-old bouncer that lost his shit.
The fact that he didn’t immediately push me into bed had me fooled. He took up so much of my time, I hadn’t even looked for work yet. I still had some money, and stopped paying for the hotel room because I was so lost in Tony and the way he Pretty Womaned me without the sex, I didn’t think I was in a rush to find work or a permanent home.
My first mistake was partaking in the drugs. I felt comfortable with him, and he didn’t pressure me, it just sounded fun. I was still young, no kids, no responsibilities, and a little escape sounded fun. We finally slept together because X will make you climb any human with a pulse like a tree.
Over the new few weeks, I was staying at his place, fucked up most of the time. I finally decided to take a break from the shit and told him I needed to find work. It was fun in the little fantasy, but I was used to working and always wanted my own money. I wasn’t ever ending up like my mom.
He knew I’d danced for a while and mentioned he owned a club and I could start anytime, no audition needed.
It felt so surreal. My man owned the club . I could go dance and be doted on by this man? Sign me up.
That saying if it seems too good to be true, it probably is, never made more sense than now.
Trying to keep a sexy face while I was dancing on stage and dreading being done because a creepy old guy had been staring me down was hard as fuck. I hoped to hell he didn’t want to go to a room. I already made myself depressed enough for the rest of the night reminiscing on how I got there.
Vinny shot me a scowl, so I plastered a smile on and grabbed the pole, swinging as I climbed up. I tightened my thighs on the pole and let my arms fall and spun upside down.
Pulling myself up, I grabbed the pole and let my legs swing before I slid back down.
As the song ended, I got some cheers and claps as men tossed bills on the stage. I quickly pranced around to grab it up, like I got to keep it, and passed around fake smiles.
I was making my exit off the stage and gasped when I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. It was him. My biker. No. Not my biker… The biker. Shit. I had to get that out of my head. He wasn’t mine and never would be.
This was bad on so many levels.