Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mase—Present day
The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat, the liquid no longer cold since I’ve been nursing it for the past hour. The music playing is a sexy, seductive beat, meant to lure you into a trance of wanting more from these women, more than just looking from afar as they move their bodies.
You’re meant to want them to dance only for you.
In front of you.
On top of you.
Of course, some men take it even further than that.
Not me.
I’ve been watching, observing them as they work. But not for the reasons people generally have when they come to places like this.
And it’s not that they aren’t attractive. Any normal person with warm blood in their veins or a working libido can see how beautiful they are and get turned on. But that’s not why I’m here, nor is this a place I make a habit of frequenting. And I’m not exactly normal, either.
I’ve been waiting for the club owner, Chester, who told me to sit and wait a few minutes for him . . . almost an hour ago.
He’s an interesting-looking man, wearing bold colors that don’t match, rings on each finger, and has so much gel in his hair that it looks wet. Truthfully, he looks like a sleazebag.
I focus back on the stage. It’s surprising, actually, that these women, though dressed in next to nothing, can look so put-together—even sophisticated—in a bar that smells like stale beer and dried cum. This place is the shittiest of holes, with most of the crowd matching the surroundings.
I know for some of the women it’s not exactly a choice to be here.
Another song starts as I take a small sip of my old fashioned, and a new woman gets on stage. I watch her face for a few minutes, her confidence showing in every piece of clothing she takes off, the eye contact she holds with the audience, and the genuine smile on her face.
She’s enjoying it. Not quite my targeted audience.
I consider just leaving, since it appears Chester has forgotten about me. It’s not like I wanted to be here in the first place.
Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil, so I keep myself planted in the chair, hoping he’ll appear in the next few minutes.
The feel of fingers brushing along my shoulders brings me to attention. No doubt it’s another one of the dancers offering their services. That would make her the sixth attempt since I sat down.
“Hi there,” she says in a seductive voice close to my ear. Or she tries to, at least. But it sounds wrong, forced, unnatural. Like she would rather not talk to me if she could help it. “I couldn’t help but notice—”
The moment I turn my head and lock eyes with her swirling gray ones, she freezes mid-sentence, as if the eye contact startled her. Maybe it did.
The woman quickly looks down, and my eyes narrow as I watch her movements: the fidgeting of her fingers, the rise and fall of her chest, and the general unease she gives off.
Curled, shiny brown hair spills out from beneath a silver crown that sits on her head. And though I can see she has a stunning body, dressed—or barely dressed—in white lace, I keep my eyes fixed on her face.
“You couldn’t help but notice what?”
The brunette blinks a few times before standing straighter.
“I, um . . .” A flicker of familiarity hits me then as I study her heart-shaped face, slightly sloped nose, full lips, perfectly shaped brows.
It’s like I’ve seen her before, but I can’t pinpoint where.
“That you were alone,” she finally answers.
“And you probably prefer it that way. I’m sorry I interrupted. ”
My brows crease in confusion. That’s a first. Not the typical tactic they use on people. Surely that’s not what she was going to say.
She wears a similar crown to the other women, and she’s dressed the same way—extra makeup, fake lashes, glitter everywhere—so it’s obvious that she works here.
But her behavior is nothing like the other girls who have approached me.
In fact, she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here, precisely how she sounded in my ear. Maybe she’s new? A trainee?
The woman turns to walk away, but whether it was the surprise on her face when we first locked eyes or the way she’s trying to high-tail it away from me, something deep within compels me to stop her. To keep her talking to me.
“Hey, wait.” Without proper thought, I reach out and take hold of her gloved wrist before she can leave, only realizing my utter mistake when she lets out a whimper and whirls around, her face pale and afraid.
I quickly release her, regret pulsing through me.
“I’m sorry.” I should have fucking known better than to do something so stupid. “I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”
She doesn’t race off, thankfully, but she doesn’t look at me, either.
Instead, she shifts her gaze to the side, while holding the spot where my fingers wrapped around her, as if I branded her with that touch.
I shove my hands between my knees and trace my eyes over her features. “Have you worked here for very long?”
I see the slightest frown form on her face while she looks anywhere but at me. “A couple of years.”
Years? Not new, then.
“You’re not like the others.” That finally draws her eyes back to me. Her face is still a little pale, spooked even, and another spark of familiarity hits me, this time harder than before. Where the fuck do I know her from? “Have we met before?”
There’s a moment where she pauses all movements. It’s so slight, you’d miss it if you weren’t paying attention. But then she shakes her head, forcing her gloved hands to relax at her sides. “No.”
I nod slowly, though my brain keeps telling me otherwise. “I could have sworn I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?”
A shift of her feet and lick of her lips. “Jayne.”
Jayne. It doesn’t sound familiar at all. I guess I could have seen her at the supermarket or something. But for some reason, it feels like a little more than that.
“What do you mean I’m not like the others?” she asks after a beat.
“Oh. They all offered me a dance.”
I don’t even want a dance, but I do want to see her reaction to it.
Her throat rolls with a swallow, and she briefly glances at one of the other girls nearby who seems to be watching us. “Do you . . . would you like a lap dance?”
She couldn’t look any more uncomfortable as she pushes the words out.
“No, thank you.” Not from any of them, but especially not from her.
“Why did you bring it up then?” She doesn’t sound annoyed, just curious.
“It was just an observation.”
I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment that makes her shoulders lower. But one thing is for sure, she shows signs of that something I always subconsciously look for, yet I’m never happy when I find it. From the nervous energy to the way she avoids eye contact, and everything in between.
“Well, I’ll leave you be, then,” she says softly. “Have a good night.”
“Wait,” I say again before she can walk away, this time not grabbing her wrist. She pauses, her big gray eyes looking at me expectantly.
Reaching into my pocket, I grab a card and hold it out to her.
“Come by one evening if it’s something you might be interested in. And tell the other women here, too.”
With cautious hesitance, she takes the card and looks at it, her eyes widening and mouth parting when she reads it. I doubt that’s what she was expecting to see.
I was supposed to be talking to Chester about it, but I think he’s purposely left me waiting, which means he can fuck right off.
Without another word, she walks away from me, tucking the card into her bra.
Only then do I let my eyes look lower for just a second, a miniscule moment in time, where I pretend to be a regular man, appreciating her curves and the roundness of her ass cheeks.
And the way her lingerie is not simply for cover, but for admiring the way it accentuates the parts of her body that each piece touches.
That second is all I allow before lifting my eyes again, just in time to see her peek over her shoulder at me.
Then, she disappears into the crowd.
I settle back into my chair, swallowing down some more of my drink while watching the area she just occupied. There’s something about those haunted eyes, that look like storm clouds right before the destruction hits, and those pretty, but downturned pink lips that has my mind stuck on her.
She said we haven’t met before, and though I don’t recognize the name, I’m almost sure we’ve talked at some point.
The last mouthful of my drink slides down my throat, and I think I’m ready to call it a night. I place my empty glass on the table beside me and run my fingers through my hair, giving it a little tousle. At that same moment, the crowd parts, and Jayne comes into view again.
My fingers freeze at the sight of a smile spreading her cheeks as she talks to a gray-haired man seated in front of her.
What the fuck?
A smile is the last thing I would have expected to see, considering it looked like she was mere seconds away from running into the ladies’ room when she was talking to me.
Maybe I was wrong about my earlier assumption?
But the closer I look—observing her every movement, her every expression—the more fake that smile appears.
It’s not fucking genuine; it’s forced, just like her seductive voice in my ear.
Jayne’s head tilts to the side, and her smile widens at whatever the man says, but the second her gaze shifts and lands on me again, the smile vanishes, wiping clear off her face. That same spooked expression returns, making the V between my brows grow deeper.
Is it only me getting that reaction? Others get the forced smile, while I get the troubled look?
She scurries away from the man shortly after she catches me watching her, then continues working the floor in the farthest section of the club.
I track her movements, catching glimpses of her through the bodies of other patrons filling the room.
The more I watch her, the more baffled I get. Especially when every person she approaches gets a smile and fake happiness, yet whenever she glances my way—which is often—I get the opposite reaction.
The only explanation I can think of is that I remind her of someone she clearly wants to avoid.
I consider staying a little longer, maybe try to talk to her again, but the moment I see her settle into the lap of someone else, a weird feeling rushes through me, and I decide I’ve already spent enough time here. I stand abruptly and charge for the exit, finally leaving this hellhole.