Chapter 13
Almost a week after Astrid accepted me as I was, and what the club and I had to do at times, I still had a hard time believing it was real.
After our savage sex on the floor, we’d eventually had a long, in-depth discussion about it.
She had a few questions that I answered, and she told me what would break her acceptance of what we did.
I assured her that the things she worried about, we wouldn’t do.
Our new understanding didn’t stop me and my club from planning to pay a visit to Radley Baker.
What put it on hold, however, was something beyond our control.
It seemed that he was outside the country, according to Spawn.
We doubted it was for vacation. He was in the country where the mission went bad, and his brother died.
In fact, according to Spawn, he was in the town closest to where it went down.
Someone was talking and giving him details he shouldn’t know.
Spawn, with help from our friends, the Dark Patriots, was scrambling to determine who it was.
This hiccup meant we had to postpone the talk I had planned for him. It made me short-tempered, but when I got that way, Astrid would snap me out of it or tell me to chill. She wasn’t a bit intimidated by my moods.
Astrid worked to stay busy so she wouldn’t dwell on Baker.
Since she hadn’t found a job yet, and there wasn’t much at home to keep her occupied, she had come to work with me a few times.
She was willing to do anything that I asked, and she was a quick learner.
In no time, she was clearing paperwork and other shit away for me at Eden.
The other guys helped me, but paperwork wasn’t their thing, so most of it fell to me.
I kept making a pile to file away and never got to it.
However, not only did I benefit from Astrid doing it, but having sex on my desk, while others were around, was fun and felt illicit.
I knew by the way she got wetter and got off that she liked the danger of being caught.
It gave me ideas for future play, if she was willing.
The work week was almost at an end. It was Friday night, and I was needed at Eden.
Astrid wanted to go with me. She wished to sit and watch the dancers.
When I asked why, she admitted she wanted to see how Aubrielle was doing.
The other days that my woman came with me, we had worked before the dancing happened.
I hated the idea of her out there alone, but I couldn’t be with her the entire time.
I needed to be walking the floor and available to the staff.
My anxiety was solved when I learned that the old ladies had all arranged to come to Eden for the night.
Sitters were brought in for the kids. Their old men were told the women were going, so I knew my married brothers would be there as well.
When Astrid strolled out at home in her outfit, I got hard.
She was in skintight, black leather pants that molded her lower body, showcasing her hips and ass.
She wore a pair of strappy, open-toed, high-heeled black shoes.
They made her legs even longer and topped her off at over six feet tall.
Her hair was down in sexy, tousled waves.
The top she had on was the true eye-catcher.
It was designed as a corset. The lace overlay at the top formed short, off-the-shoulder sleeves.
The corset was red, embroidered on a dark backdrop, and the lace was black.
She’d applied darker eye makeup than I’d seen her wear, and her lipstick matched the red of her corset. She’d laughed and pushed me away multiple times when I said we’d stay home. I switched to telling her she had to wear a sack over her entire body. She told me to dream on.
I calmed myself with the reminder that she’d be with my club and have her property cut on.
Or I did until the woman teased me about not wearing her cut since it covered up her corset.
I spanked her ass until it was warm for that.
Astrid’s response was to tell me to hold on to that idea until we got home because her pussy was wet.
I swear, I wondered if it was possible to die from being perpetually hard.
I brought the truck tonight. Those who went met in the clubhouse.
When we did, I got a glimpse of how the other old ladies were dressed.
It seemed the women had conspired on their clothing, and it was incredible.
We husbands stood there glowering as the women chuckled.
Before leaving, we instructed the others to remain alert in case we needed backup.
The women laughed about it, but we were serious.
Due to the old ladies’ desire not to mess up their hair, we went in cages.
Parking was a bit challenging to find, but we had several spots reserved for the club, so we managed to squeeze into those.
Converging on the door as a group, tonight’s bouncer, Chad, greeted us and waved us inside.
Knowing we were coming tonight, I arranged to have two tables close to the front, but not right next to the stage, reserved for us.
That way, the women could see but not interfere with the paying customers who would want to be front and center.
Several men were in here all the time, and a few were big spenders.
Our ladies were smiling, chatting, and laughing as we helped them take their seats.
Our waitress arrived within a minute or two of us being seated.
We decided on drinks and to have a couple of appetizers for us to snack on.
She took down our order and zoomed off. Our waitstaff was dressed in sexy outfits, both male and female, but they didn’t go topless or just wear pasties.
While we wanted them to be visually appealing and attract the customers to buy drinks and tip well, they shouldn’t compete with the dancers.
I wasn’t unaware of the attention our ladies got as we entered and took our seats, and neither were my brothers.
I hoped we wouldn’t have any assholes in the crowd tonight, causing trouble.
Although we could only serve beer and wine, some customers got drunk and acted up.
Most of the time, they tried to touch the dancers, and that was an absolute no-no.
Or they demanded lap dances or to have a private room with them.
Again, not happening. Our staff wasn’t to be molested.
It had been worse right after we bought the place, and the old customers came in demanding sex.
It had taken a lot of work to get rid of them and to spread the word that Eden wasn’t like that anymore. It had new management.
My brothers and I were telling them about that time when our drinks and food were brought to the table.
Even if we were the owners, we still tipped our people.
A hefty tip made our waitress, Laura, smile.
We didn’t have long to wait before the lighting dimmed and a hush fell.
It was almost time for the first dancer.
It was later in the night when most of the customers arrived.
Due to that, the more in-demand dancers would dance then.
At the beginning of the night, there were the new ones and those in less demand.
People had favorites, and sometimes I had a hard time understanding why one was liked more than another.
Aubrielle was third on the schedule tonight.
I’d checked. While most people would think she’d be first since she had no experience, she had surprised me.
Her routine was a great one. Dusty told me Aubrielle had contributed significantly to its development, and her costume was both sexy and sweet, a killer combination.
The crowd had loved her from her first night.
The demand for her had begun to grow already, so she was no longer the opener.
If she kept this up, she’d be doing the late-night spots.
Would it piss off the older, established dancers?
Without a doubt, but it was the way it went.
I applied the rules fairly to all of them.
Just as the lights dimmed, as if they timed it, we were joined by four of our single brothers—Sandman, Shadow, Romulus, and Remus. They brought chairs over with them. We made room for them by scooting around.
“Man, did we miss her?” Remus asked.
“Miss who?” I asked.
“The new girl. Riot told us she was doing a decent job. We wanted to see what you guys and the ladies have been talking about. You seem to like her,” he explained.
“We do. She’s a sweet person,” Astrid told them.
“No, you haven’t missed her. The first dancer is about to start. Aubrielle is third tonight,” I told them in hushed tones as the music started, then the spotlight came on, revealing the first dancer.
There was nothing wrong with her routine.
She got plenty of cheers, catcalls, and money tossed onto the stage by several customers.
At the end of the dance, she hurriedly picked up the cash and got off the stage.
We gave them enough time to do that before the next person started.
Some places had the previous dancer still picking up her cash while the new one was coming on.
I’d seen that cause fighting between the women when one claimed some of the money was hers and not the other’s. No way did we want that shit here.
The guys and I chatted softly and only gave the next dancer a cursory look or two.
It wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty or provocative.
It was merely that we married men weren’t interested, and the other four were somewhat desensitized to it.
The women, on the other hand, avidly watched and excitedly chatted about the moves she made, admiring her physical fitness.