30 Aubie
HOLY SHIT. WHAT WAS THAT? I’m going to quit stripping because Cutter doesn’t like it?
The words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.
Do I want to quit?
I hadn’t really considered it. The biggest reason why I started was to piss off my father. I’d hate for him to think I quit because of him.
There’s also that little part where I love exposing myself, but then, I can do that anywhere. Maybe not to that extreme, but there’s always been ample opportunity for me to check that box. That’s half of what all the media scandals with me are about, none of which are accidental.
But quit now? For that reason? Are we even to that point yet? Cutter was right to ask the question. And me telling him I care.
The thing is, I do care. That became painfully obvious when my hands were knuckle-deep in his blood. I almost lost him before we even had a chance to…
To what?
What exactly do I see happening here? A relationship? Being exclusive? The thought both terrifies and intrigues me.
Is that something I want? Considering I’ve fucked my way through half the eligible men–and some women–in the city, maybe it’s time I thought about settling down. I’m not talking happily ever after, but maybe happily for now?
I can’t deny the attraction. And I enjoyed taking care of him tonight. What would a relationship with Cutter Knight even look like? Dates on his bike? Cooking meals together? Waking up in his arms?
That one almost stops me cold. I’ve never spent an entire night sleeping with another person.
Well, other than the occasional hookup who overstays his welcome.
Or Jimi, though our sleepovers mainly involve the two of us fucking like rabid bunnies then passing out in our own cum.
There’s no cuddling or snuggling or spooning happening.
No good morning kisses or long, lazy morning fucks.
I smile at this last. Yeah, I could get used to waking up with Cutter’s dick knocking on my back door. And having his sexy face be the first thing I see when I open my eyes would make the whole day worthwhile. But could I do that day in and day out?
Who says I have to? Just because we’re in a relationship doesn’t mean we have to spend every night together. Right?
What else would I do? Go out? Party with my friends? How do I do that when there’s no chance of hooking up with strangers? My whole party persona revolves around stalking and conquering fresh prey for the evening. And Cutter doesn’t seem like the party type, especially with his sobriety issues.
Which means quiet nights at home. Watching videos and fucking. Hmm…
What am I doing? I’m planning our whole lives and we haven’t even agreed to anything long-term.
He gets jealous of me stripping in front of other people.
I know it shouldn’t, but that thought gets my dick hard.
I’ll admit I would miss the attention I get on stage.
I’d also miss the way he looks at me when he watches my act, but nothing says I can’t do private stripteases. I do love a good role play.
I know if I’m going to quit, I need to have a conversation with Daryl sooner rather than later, but I can’t seem to make my feet go in the direction of his office when I arrive at the club.
I have forty-five minutes before my set, plenty of time to drop that bomb and escape the fallout. So why am I stalling?
“You’re early,” Daniel says when I set my bag on the seat next to him in the dressing room.
I glance around; they can be a bitchy bunch, but I’m going to miss these guys. I can’t say any of them are exactly friends, but they’ve welcomed me into their little family. They may want to secretly scratch my eyes out, but no one has been openly hostile or unfriendly to me.
“I need to talk to Daryl,” I tell him.
“I hear you’re the one who found Cutter,” he continues without looking up from applying his makeup.
“That’s the story,” I agree. Guess I’m going to be answering these questions for a while.
He meets my eyes in the mirror. “That’s scary.”
“Yeah, it was.” Okay, I can stall here and rehash that trauma or go face Daryl. I decide I’ll get into costume before I head to his office.
With everything going on the last two days, I wasn’t feeling particularly creative when I chose the look and music for tonight’s act, recycling a set I did last month.
Hopefully anyone who’s here tonight and caught that earlier act will have forgotten about it, though being unforgettable is kind of my modus operandi.
I’d hate for my last act at the club to be a rerun, but it looks like Cutter hasn’t given me much choice.
I finish dressing then head down the hall, running into Izzy on the way to Daryl’s office. “Is he in there?” I ask her.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not going to start some shit are you, because he’s kind of got his hands full with this stabbing situation.”
Rather than remind her I was with Daryl at the hospital, I simply nod and mutter something about not bothering him. She’ll probably hate my guts when word gets out what I’m actually doing.
“Come in,” Daryl calls when I knock on the office door. From his expression, he doesn’t seem surprised to see me. “How’s Cutter?”
“How do you know I’ve seen him?”
He snorts. “I know you.”
“Do you, Daryl?”
“Okay, I know your type,” he amends. “At any rate, tell me you didn’t go by his apartment today.”
I shrug. “You got me. I stopped by to take him some food and give him a sponge bath.” I watch his reaction to that. His frown doesn’t disappoint.
“Do I want to know what else you did?”
“You’re Cutter’s friend. I’ll let him answer that.”
“I said I wouldn’t get involved, so here’s me butting out. But if you pull your normal shit with him–”
“My normal shit?”
“You know what I mean. I told you, Cutter is–”
“A delicate flower. Yeah, I got it.”
He glares at me. “You know what I mean.”
“As it turns out, I do. Which brings me to why I’m here. This is going to be my last night.”
I let that sit there for a minute, watching the reality of that statement play out across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “Did you say your last night? Like forever?” I nod. “What brought this on?”
“Your friend.” When he frowns in confusion, I add, “He asked me to quit.”
He doesn’t say anything for a full minute, though I can almost hear his thoughts. Or at least what I imagine are his thoughts. “Why would Cutter ask you to quit?”
I lean back on the couch and spread my arms across the back, my lips curled up in a smirk. “He was jealous.” I toss my hair back and bat my eyes at him. “Can you blame him?”
“Cutter was jeal–?” He stops mid-thought, then mumbles to himself, “Where was that seven years ago?”
I can only assume he’s talking about Cutter’s run-in with his brother and his cheating fiancé. I don’t know the woman, but I’d personally like to rip her hair out. Was Cutter not sufficiently jealous over her? Sounds like she pretty much wrecked his world.
“You’re telling me Cutter asked you to stop dancing because he was jealous and you, what? Agreed?”
I grin at him. “Even I’m finding that hard to believe, but yeah. Think I’m a reformed man?”
I don’t really care about that, but it’s fun to fuck with Daryl, especially since he normally sees right through most of my bullshit.
“Hardly,” he snorts. “Just because I can’t figure out your game doesn’t mean you’re not playing one.”
This is more fun than I thought it would be. “Come on, Daryl. I thought we were friends.”
“Calling us friends may be a stretch.” He shakes his head. “You’re really quitting because he asked you to?”
“What can I say? He appeals to the romantic in me.”
He seems to find that hilarious. “Forgetting for the moment how insane the thought of you being a romantic is–” I press my palm over my heart and gasp “–you have no idea what you’re getting into with Cutter.”
Finally. Some real dirt. It takes all my acting skills to pretend I’m not hanging onto every word that sneaks out of his gossipy mouth. My “What do you mean?” comes off sounding completely innocent.
“Cutter is…demanding.”
“I love a man who knows what he wants,” I murmur.
“He’d probably kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but I’d rather risk that than have you play with his heart.”
Who said anything about hearts?
Feelings, remember?
“When Cutter is on, I mean, feeling good about himself, he can be very single-minded. That is to say, he focuses on one thing at the expense of everything else. Which can be good and bad. Good if you’re the thing he’s focused on. Bad if you’re anything else.”
I shrug off the comment, but I won’t deny it sticks with me. I know I can be an attention whore, which wouldn’t bode well for someone who tried to ignore me. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“We’re not picking out furniture together yet.”
“Maybe you’re not,” Daryl replies. “But Cutter…he’s an ‘all in’ kind of guy.”
Yeah, I got that.
“Look, if you’re worried I’m just using him, you can relax. I don’t know where this is going, but I can tell you it feels like more than one of my usual flings.”
He studies me for a minute as if he can scent my intent. I guess whatever he sees finally satisfies him because he changes course. “You say you brought him something to eat?”
“Plenty of leftovers so he won’t starve.”
“Good. I wanted him to stay at my place so my housekeeper could cook for him, but he insisted on going home.”
“It’s important that he be able to take care of himself.”
He frowns. “Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words. I just assumed from what he’s told me that he’s embarrassed by his past choices.”
I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but it’s not hard to see.
Cutter likes being in control and he lost that control.
Now he’s working hard to get it back, which means he probably doesn’t need someone like me barging into his life and fucking up the works.
On the other hand, I might be just what he needs.
We might be good for each other. He needs to learn to be flexible and I need to let go of my fear of commitment.