Chapter 1 #2
“That was actually why I was thinking maybe it would be a good idea,” I say. “My scars might be ugly, but they make me different. Unique. There’s a reason people go to the circus—to see things they couldn’t see anywhere else. You could make it a selling point, something no other strip club has.”
Although my voice stays steady, my heart pounds a little harder as I speak.
I’m basically offering to turn myself into a freak show attraction for him, to let people gape at me or laugh at me or get off on some weird scar fetish as they watch me dance.
It’s humiliating to think about, but at least it would make me more money than serving drinks does.
Carl narrows his eyes, cocking his head to one side as he considers my words. He pinches the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, then shakes his head.
“Nope. Sorry, sweetheart. No can do.”
Disappointment rushes through me, and I drop my gaze to the floor so he won’t see it in my eyes.
“Right,” I mutter, turning toward the door. “Okay. Sorry I wasted your time.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Carl calls after me as I start to leave. “Hold on. You really need money?”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “Yes.”
“Are you a virgin?”
My heart stutters, and I whirl around, my cheeks burning. “What?”
It’s not an answer to his question, but judging by the way he smirks, my reaction was all the answer he needed.
“Yup. Thought so,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Someone like you? Of course you are. I can work with that.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand, trying not to sound as humiliated as I feel.
He just keeps smirking at me with that infuriating look, dragging his gaze over my body again.
“I’m not putting you up on my stage, but there are a lot of men out there who would pay a lot of money for a virgin pussy, no matter what kind of girl it’s attached to.
If you’re serious about needing money, there’s a woman I know who’s been looking for untouched girls for her whorehouse.
I could hook you up… for a percentage of your take. ”
My jaw drops open as it hits me in a rush what he’s saying.
I wouldn’t be stripping.
I’d be hooking.
For a long moment, I don’t say anything, my stomach churning as my mind reels. This wasn’t at all how I expected this conversation to go, and I feel stunned, caught totally off guard.
“When I say a lot of money, I mean a lot of money,” Carl continues, speaking into the silence when I don’t say anything. “Ten grand. Maybe more, if you make it good enough and someone’s desperate enough—or has a real big fetish that they’re willing to pay out the ass for.”
Dammit. Dammit.
That’s so much money.
That’s almost enough to cover the rest of this semester’s tuition, and I could cover the rest with the tiny amount of savings I have.
Still, I hesitate, staring at Carl as if I’ve gone catatonic.
I don’t want to say yes. I know what it’s like once a woman gets into hooking.
I grew up living with a prostitute, and I remember all the things my adoptive mother had to do.
There were weekends when johns would come and go from our house just about all day, it felt like.
I could hear them sometimes, grunting and cursing and calling her all kinds of names, while she just moaned and pretended to enjoy it.
I never wanted to follow in her footsteps, and now I’m staring the gateway to that world right in the face.
But there’s no other way to get the money I need. Maybe if I had more time, I could figure something out, but between classes and shifts here, it’s not like I can pick up another job. Unless I want to attempt a small scale bank robbery, there aren’t any other options.
And it’s not like saying yes this one time means that I’ll be hooking forever. Carl’s offer is pretty specific. I can only sell my virginity once. Once that’s gone, I can take the money and get out.
I feel sick to my stomach, but I can’t turn this chance down.
“Okay,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I’ll do it.”
The lanky man smiles, looking pleased.
Of course he is. He’s about to get a payday too, and he’s not the one who has to spread his legs.
“Alright.” He nods. “I’ll get in touch with my contact at The Rose Garden and tell her I’ve got a girl for her. Come see me tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you what she’s got lined up for you, yeah?”
“Okay,” I murmur again.
His gaze lingers on me, and for someone who was just calling me a freak a minute ago, the look on his face is lustful and skeevy.
“Good. Now get out.” He jerks his chin. “I’ve got shit to do.”
I walk out of his office and finish my shift in a daze, the deep thud of the bass matching the pounding of my heart. As soon as I’m done for the night, I grab my shit from the back, changing into my regular clothes as quickly as possible.
As I leave the club, the tears I’ve been holding back all night sting my eyes.
God, I can’t believe I agreed to do this.
I already feel sick and dirty, and I haven’t even done the deed yet. But I don’t have another choice. This is for my future, and it’ll all be worth it in the end.
My vision is blurry with tears, and I keep my head down as I walk down the dark street, heading for the bus stop so I can go home. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t see the large body in front of me until I crash right into it.
“Shit!” I jerk back, wiping my eyes quickly as I try to keep my balance.
“Whoa. Careful, there.”
Large hands steady me, and I look up and blink in surprise.
The guy I slammed into is tall and broad-shouldered, dressed casually in a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt that clings to his muscled arms. The streetlight overhead glints off the metal bar in his eyebrow as he cocks his head.
His eyes are a shade of blueish-green that reminds me of the ocean, and they glitter as he looks down at me.
“You okay? You had a pretty good head of steam built up there.”
He quirks a crooked half smile as he speaks, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other. When he tilts his head a little, the movement shows off the bronze highlights running through his messy brown hair.
My heart lurches as I realize I’m staring at him, tear tracks still drying on my face.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, stepping back and out of his grip. “Sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, then narrows his eyes a little as he glances at my tear-streaked cheeks. “You sure you’re alright? I don’t need to beat up some fucker for you, do I?”
That startles a laugh out of me, and he grins.
His eyes flick over me, but not with the same nasty leer that Carl had. This seems more like… interest? Or curiosity, maybe.
But Sapphire is in a pretty sketchy area, and even though this guy is gorgeous, he’s definitely dangerous too. He wears an air of ‘fuck around and find out’ like a second skin, and even if we were in a better part of Detroit, that aura would still radiate from him.
“No. No, it’s fine,” I mutter. “I just need to get home.”
Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I turn and hurry away.
I try to keep my head down and keep walking, but I can’t resist looking over my shoulder for one last look at the guy.
He’s still watching me, and our eyes meet for just a second.
It’s enough to make my stomach flip over, and I whip my head back around, almost jogging the last block to the bus stop.
The bus is just about to pull away when I get there, and I practically throw myself onto it, not relaxing for one second on the ride back to my apartment.
With most of my money going toward school, a tiny one bedroom in a sketchy complex is the best I can afford. Still, I pat the railing with something like relief and affection as I climb the stairs to the second floor where I live.
When I turned eighteen, I got away from my adoptive mom’s house as soon as I could.
I was tired of being kept up at night, listening to her fuck whoever could pay, and then dealing with her mood swings during the day.
She lives in a small house near Eight Mile, and even though she still has a way of sucking me back into her life, at least I’ve got a place I can escape to now.
A place that’s all mine.
After locking the deadbolt, I toss my bag on the creaky old twin bed in my room and then peel myself out of my clothes, heading for the shower.
The pipes clatter and clang as the water starts to pour down, and I breathe a sigh of gratitude that this is one of the nights the water heater has decided to work. I need it after the day I’ve had.
Usually, a quick scrub is enough to get a long day of classes and work off me, but it’s harder to feel clean tonight. I spend a little extra time under the spray, then get out and put on my softest pajamas before curling up on the couch to do homework and watch a home improvement show.
Still, no matter how much I try to lose myself in my usual routines, I can’t stop my mind from returning over and over to the deal I made with Carl, nerves and shame and hope warring inside me.
This time next week, I’ll be ten thousand dollars richer.
And no longer a virgin.