Chapter 3
I sat in Punishers’ Eden again. I’d been at this protector gig for ten days, and I was slowly being driven insane. I underestimated how hard it would be to be near Aubrielle nearly daily. How she would make my body react, and how my nightly dreams were filled with erotic images of us.
I tried to project an aura of indifference, and I thought I pulled it off.
But inside, I was a volcano waiting to erupt.
What didn’t help matters was the times I had to touch or kiss her to make the lie appear real.
Christ, I both dreaded and lived for those moments.
It was agony to stop and not carry them through to the final stage of both of us naked in bed, sating our desire with each other.
During the day, when Aubrielle wasn’t working, she was busy. She spent hours alone in her apartment. I discovered why one day, when she told me she needed to run errands.
I thought we’d go to the grocery store, maybe the post office, and some of the retail stores around Bristol.
She did go to the post office and grocery store, but there was no casual shopping for her.
Instead, she went to the nearby college and dropped off a check for her classes.
That was when I found out what she had been doing for so many hours in her apartment.
She studied and completed her assignments.
I’d asked her after that about what she studied. She flushed and mumbled that she was pursuing a Bachelor of Science in English and Writing with a focus on creative writing. She didn’t say more, but it made me wonder what she wanted to do with it.
Later that night, back at the house, I’d done some research myself.
I looked up what one could do with that degree.
I found it was rather versatile. She could be a technical or content writer, an editor, a grant writer, a PR specialist, or a journalist. Those were the typical professions.
Less typical was a teacher and a business analyst. It made me even more curious to know what she wanted to do with her degree, but I refrained from asking.
I hated making her feel like she had to tell me about her life. I was only here to ensure she was safe.
Tonight, I was roaming the hallway that led to the dressing room. I checked out the packed tables and booths on the main floor. It was hopping busy tonight. It should turn a good profit just in cover charges and drinks.
I knew from the monthly business talks we held that Eden was well in the black.
Cover charges and drinks more than covered the cost of keeping the lights on and paying wages.
The waitstaff and bartenders earned a small hourly wage, with the rest paid in tips.
The cleaning crew that worked for us and cleaned all our businesses was paid a set monthly fee unless something unusual needed to be done.
The dancers were paid solely through tips.
The current Eden wasn’t like the old Eden. The owner then took the bulk of their earnings and used threats and coercion to keep people there. He’d also forced the women to work in the back as prostitutes, which, again, he got the bulk of the money for.
When the club bought Eden, the former owner was dealt with.
Prostitution was banned, and Mayhem and others worked to turn it into the best strip club around.
He had people on waiting lists to work here.
The dancers paid a five percent fee from their tips.
It was to rent them the dressing room space and to help ensure they had whatever they needed.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Ratchet asked as he came up to me in the back hallway.
“Nothing to report. I saw the front was packed. Any problems so far?” I asked.
“Nothing major. We’re keeping an eye on a couple of groups that might get rowdy, but we’ll see. How’s Aubrielle? Is she hanging in there with being escorted everywhere and pretending?”
“As far as I know, yes, she’s good with it. Why? Have you heard something different?” I asked sharply.
My heart skipped a beat at the thought that she wasn’t happy and chose to complain to someone else, not me.
“No, as far as I know, she’s great. She hasn’t told any of us she’s unhappy. You’re with her so much, I figured you’d know.”
Ratchet’s tone had a slight edge, but I had no idea why. He was still watching me. I chose to ignore it. He probably had a bad day and hadn’t fully relaxed yet.
“She’s been mainly here, at her apartment, or running errands,” I told him.
“Well, let us know if you need anything. It’s a full house tonight.
I swear most are here to see Aubrielle. The number of people we overhear saying they’ve come to see her is ridiculous.
Who would’ve ever thought shy, inexperienced, sweet Aubrielle would become the club’s star dancer?
Mayhem doesn’t even have to post or promote that she is. It’s done by word of mouth.”
Without another word, Ratchet walked off.
I went over what he said about most of the crowd being here for her.
No surprise in my book. And it wasn’t as if she only had to contend with admirers here.
When she ran errands, men noticed her and stared.
Lucky for them, they saw me and stayed the hell away from her.
However, there was one who didn’t. Aubrielle’s neighbor, Derrick, I’d caught him twice since our first meeting, talking to her outside. I tried to get her to stay in her apartment until I came to the door, but she refused. Aubrielle was adamant she wouldn’t be treated like a prisoner.
She had no idea how intense the urge was to scoop her up, take her to my house, behind the club’s concrete-block walls topped with razor wire.
Once there, I’d keep her in my bed until she realized that she was too tempting to be allowed to roam freely.
That I wouldn’t allow someone to take her from me.
Yeah, the possessive factor had grown exponentially since I volunteered to be her fake boyfriend/bodyguard.
My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her day and night, even if we weren’t together.
I craved her presence so much that I’d started texting with her to see what she was doing, if she needed me, and those sorts of excuses.
She answered, but kept it brief. Needing to have her surrounded by the club’s presence, more than here, I was going to suggest she hang with the club on one of her next nights off.
Checking my phone, I saw it was almost showtime. I’d get into position. That meant walking her from the dressing room to the stage. I stopped short of showing myself, but I positioned myself behind the edge of the curtain, in the darkness where the stage lights didn’t reach me.
It was my ability to hide in the shadows, to become one with my surroundings, and the figure on my bike’s gas tank that had earned me the road name Shadowrider.
It was a mouthful, so I stuck to just Shadow.
The only time the abbreviated version got confusing was when we were around the Pagan Souls of Oconee, our MC friends in Oconee, Georgia.
They had a member named Shadow. There were a few duplicates among the seven MC clubs in our friendship circle. It was bound to happen.
I paused at the dressing room door, then knocked. I wanted the dancers to know someone was entering. I waited a couple of seconds, then walked in. As I entered, I called out, “I’m here, ladies.”
A chorus of hellos greeted me. They were used to Punishers coming into the room.
Most weren’t shy about which stage of undress they were caught in, except for Aubrielle.
She would be comfortable on stage, but afterward, she would wrap herself in something.
And she would undress and dress behind a screen if a man was present.
My gaze automatically went to her dressing table.
She was seated there, finishing with her makeup.
Because of the harsh lights, she had to put it on much darker and thicker than she would for everyday makeup.
Aubrielle wore very little makeup offstage, just mascara and lip gloss or tint.
She didn’t need tons of it or any at all in my book.
Her skin was a smooth, golden tan without a blemish.
Her cheeks had a natural flush, and her lips were a dark pink.
Her hair, when she left it unbound, fell to the middle of her back.
It was light brown with streaks of gold.
It was slightly wavy, and I wanted to touch it to see if it and her skin were as soft as they looked.
Luminous light-blue eyes crowned her perfectly proportioned features.
They were enough to make you stop and stare. They glowed.
Her body was on the slender side, but she had a figure.
Her waist was tucked in, giving her a subdued hourglass shape.
Her ass was a plump peach, and her tits, while not huge, were perfectly sized for her body.
I guessed that she was a full B cup or a small C.
She was five feet six, but her legs seemed to go on for miles.
Shit, I had to stop. My cock was beginning to stiffen.
The last thing I needed was to have an erection in a roomful of strippers.
I pressed my back to the wall and clasped my hands together so they hung down in front of my crotch. Aubrielle glanced at me in the mirror.
“I’ll be ready in less than ten. Just finishing this up and then into my costume, then I’m ready.”
“It’s fine. You have almost twenty minutes until you’re on,” I told her.
I got a brisk nod from her, then it was back to her makeup.
I was lost in my thoughts when there was a brief knock on the door.
It opened to admit Paul, one of the bouncers.
He was working with Chad, another bouncer, tonight.
Ratchet, Mayhem, Riot, and Sandman were all here, too.
I had no idea whether any of the others were in the audience tonight.