Chapter Four - Chapter Three
CHAPTER FOUR
Chapter Three
IT HAD BEEN over a year since I worked Twisted Heat, and as I parked my bike in front of the place, memories flooded back. Jonesy was a hard-ass to work for, and I much preferred working under Hillbilly with his laid-back style. The Devil’s Den was a blast; Twisted Heat, not so much. Every goddamned night, it was one asshole after another, stumbling in, getting drunk, and getting handsy and out of line with the women. And when their wives showed up, well, that’s when the real shitshow started.
Exhausting didn’t even begin to cover it.
I walked inside, adjusting to the dimmer lighting and the thumping bass that rattled my bones. As I made my way to the office, the smell of the musky fragrance the club piped through the vents hit my nose. “Knock, knock,” I called out at the open door. Snipe glanced up from behind the desk and waved me in. “Reporting for duty.”
“Nothing’s changed, so no need to go over everything,” Snipe said, leaning back in his chair, looking worn out already. “Margie’s still in charge of the women, and you and Sean will watch the floor.”
“No need for my bartending skills?” I joked, mimicking a cocktail shake.
“Nope, we’ve got Val, Cherry and Mandy trading off, dancing and serving drinks,” he laughed. “Jonesy made sure everything was covered before Sarah dragged him out of here. Brother has some serious control issues.”
“He’s Sarah’s problem now,” I chuckled, turning to leave. “I better go talk to Margie really quick; she’ll take offense if I don’t.”
“I’ve got some paperwork to finish up, but I’ll be out soon,” Snipe said, already buried in his files.
Back in the heart of the club, I found Margie leaning on the bar, her eagle eyes scanning the room. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she greeted me with a smile. “Heard you were coming back.”
I kissed her cheek, knowing it would make her blush, and sure enough, she slapped my chest. “Don’t you dare try anything with me. I’m a married woman,” she fake-chastised me.
“You can take a shot at me. I’m very single,” the bartender said, leaning over the bar and touching my hair before straightening, adjusting her pasties to draw my eye. Short brown hair, oversized tits on a paper-thin body, and lips so fucking big they looked painful. In short, not my type.
“Get back to work, Val,” Margie scolded her. “You know the rules.”
“You can be such a downer sometimes, Margie,” Val replied, giving me a wink. “I’m available after my shift. No rules against that.” She sauntered away, her hips swaying provocatively.
“Watch out for that one, hear me?” Margie warned. “But Mandy’s okay, sweet girl.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on mixing work with pleasure; that’s a headache I don’t need,” I assured her. “I better start making rounds. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You know I will,” she chuckled.
I made my rounds and didn’t see any problems to deal with at the moment, so I leaned against the wall to watch the floor.
The room went silent as the spotlight landed on the stage; the anticipation clear on every man’s face in the room. Tony the announcer’s voice boomed, “Get ready for a treat, gentlemen. This is Mandy’s last performance tonight, and she’s feeling very wicked!”
I leaned against the wall, curious to see what would capture the attention of the entire room. The men around me fell silent, their eyes fixed on the stage. The song ‘Wicked Things’ played, and the curtain rose, revealing a single chair in the center, facing away from the audience. A woman sat on it; her body hidden beneath a man’s shirt.
As she moved, leaning back over the chair, her long blonde hair cascaded down her back. My breath hitched, a sense of familiarity washing over me. It couldn’t be, but then she stood, and I recognized those long, sexy legs that had starred in every high school fantasy I’d ever had. My pulse raced as she turned around, and there she was:
Madeline Wolfe.
She moved with the music, her body flowing with perfect precision. She wasn’t raunchy like the other dancers; instead, she exuded a raw, sensual energy that made every man in the room forget to breathe. I watched, entranced, as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing a black lace bra that barely contained her full breasts.
She turned around, grinding her hips against the chair as she slid the shirt off her shoulders. Her ass was perfect, round and firm, wrapped in a pair of skimpy black panties. The surrounding men groaned, showing how turned on they were with their ragged breaths and hungry eyes.
But I remained silent, my heart pounding in my chest, my cock so fucking hard it had to be visible, but at this moment I didn’t give a shit.
Every one of her graceful movements was drilling itself into my brain, my fantasies, her presence filling the room. She wasn’t just a stripper on a stage; she was an enchantress, weaving a spell that held every man captive.
Her eyes met mine suddenly, and I felt a jolt of electricity coursing through me as if we were the only two people in the room. They held the familiar icy blue hue, stark against her porcelain skin, which was glistening under the spotlight’s sheen. Her gaze bore into mine and suddenly, it was as if we were back in our shared years of high school, our eyes always catching and lingering on each other.
On the beat of the sultry music, Madeline descended around the chair, her silhouette bathed in blue light that highlighted every curve of her body. As she swayed with the rhythm, her blonde hair swishing like liquid gold, I found myself lost in the deep pools of her eyes. They were torrents of blue, ready to drown any man brave enough to look into them.
And tonight, I was one brave son of a bitch.
The others saw only the erotic sway of her hips and the sexy curve of her body. Their desires were as plain as the crude comments they muttered to each other. But for me, there was something more, something that had lingered in the depths of my heart ever since high school. It was more than just lust; it was a deep-rooted infatuation.
With a flick of her wrist, she untied the lace that held her bra together. For a brief moment, the black fabric hung in place, heightening the suspense before falling to the floor. The men around me heaved and whistled, tossing bills onto the stage. She reached for her chest, holding her breasts in her hands before releasing them. Her skin sparkled under the lights, bathed in a rosy glow that left little to the imagination.
“Fuck.” I growled, my hand reaching for my hard cock before realizing I was in a public place. With one last sultry smile at the room, the curtain dropped, and it was over. I gave my head a shake to bring myself back to reality and went out back to let my body cool down.
Holy fuck , she was gonna be a problem.
THE INTENSE GAZE from the corner was so powerful it drew my eyes without a fight. My heart raced when I saw it was Jarrod Warner, and I couldn’t look away. Those deep, brown eyes of his always did something to me—always had.
It felt like they could see right through me, uncovering the secrets I kept buried under layers of self-preservation. The music, the noise, the flashing lights of the club—all of it faded into the background, leaving just him and me in that moment. A moment I never thought I’d have again.
I made my way off the stage, my body still humming with the energy of the dance, but inside, a cold wave of embarrassment washed over me. The adrenaline that had coursed through my veins moments ago now seeped away, replaced by a sinking feeling that twisted in my stomach. This wasn’t how I wanted to meet the guy I’d dreamed about long after high school.
My cheeks flushed, imagining what he must be thinking. Probably the same thing all the men who came to this club had: dancers were easy, fair game for a quick toss in the sheets. But the thought of him seeing me like this, in this place, it cut deeper than any judgment from a stranger.
This wasn’t the version of me I wanted him to remember.
It shouldn’t have surprised me to see him here, not after finding out Kaven, aka Midnight, worked here. Those two had been inseparable in high school, along with Kezia, Jarrod’s girlfriend, and my casual friend. I was always so jealous of her because she had Jarrod, but also confused because he was always watching me all the time, and to be fair, I only knew because I was watching him too.
When I was cheering at football games, I could feel his intense gaze on me, even when he was sitting in the stands with Kezia. It was like a silent conversation that neither of us had the courage to voice. We were drawn to one another, there was no denying it, but I wasn’t that girl, and until he was single, I wasn’t about to go there.
When Kezia died, it was a shock to everyone and terribly tragic. I never really saw Jarrod again. He kind of just disappeared, as if her death had taken a part of him with it. The idea of him reappearing now, where I worked, filled me with a mix of excitement and dread.
What was he thinking of me?
Did he even remember me?
Would he talk to me?
What would I say if he did?
The questions swirled in my mind, leaving me more unsteady than I’d like to admit. His presence already making me act like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Silly and insecure.
“You okay?” Margie asked, coming into the room. She had been a friend over the last year that I’d worked here. I felt safe letting her into my life, something you had to be careful of in this environment.
I moved away from the wall I had been leaning on and started dressing. “Yeah, just a little tired. Dad had an appointment this morning, and I worked at the dance studio in the afternoon.”
“Then get your butt home and get some sleep before I have to pick you off the floor,” she chastised gently.
I slipped on my sandals, picked up my bag, and asked, “So I’m behind the bar tomorrow night?”
“Yep,” she replied, walking out of the room with me into the hallway.
“See you tomorrow night,” I said as we went our separate ways. Working the bar brought good money; most of the men tipped extremely well. Some men were not interested in dancing, but rather sought companionship and someone to talk to, which I found effortless. But tonight, my mind was miles away, trapped in the past and wrestling with the present. The idea of Jarrod sitting in that club, watching me, unsettled me in ways I wasn’t prepared for.
“Mandy, wait up,” Sean called down the hall, stopping me. “Margie sent me to walk you to your car.”
“Oh, okay,” I replied, waiting. I had forgotten to wait. It was a ritual that we never walk to our cars alone—too many creeps in the world.
Sean pushed the door open for me, and I started out, running smack into someone, hands steadying me. “Sorry... I didn’t see you...” My words trailed off seeing Jarrod holding me, his touch electric. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world stopped turning. His hands on my arms were warm, solid, a tether to something I wasn’t sure I should want but couldn’t help craving.
“My fault,” he replied, still holding my arms and staring hard at me like he could see every dream I ever had about him. His voice, deep and smooth, sent a shiver down my spine. It was like hearing a song from long ago, one that had been stuck in your head but you never knew the name of. And now, here it was, playing again, pulling at the corners of my memories.
“I’m walking Mandy to her car,” Sean said, interrupting the moment.
Jarrod released me, still not taking his eyes off me. “Then I better get on the floor,” he said, moving aside so I could brush by him, Sean following. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, and I wondered what he was thinking. Did he remember those silent exchanges from high school? Did he feel the same pull that I did, or was I just fooling myself?
At my car, I unlocked the door and said, “Thanks a bunch, Sean.”
“No problem, better safe than sorry,” he replied as I got inside, starting the van and looking toward the back door of the club. Jarrod was still there watching, and as Sean turned to head back, the door clicked shut. The sound was silent but seemed to still echo in my ears, a finality to the night that left me feeling hollow.
I took a deep breath, my heart beating in excitement at an attraction so deep and one that I hadn’t felt since last seeing him. As I pulled out, I wondered how all this was going to play out and, like always, if I would lose.
The road stretched out before me, much like my thoughts. Was this the beginning of something, or just another fleeting moment that would leave me more lost than before?
The questions grabbed at me, refusing to let go as I drove home, the image of Jarrod’s eyes burning in my mind.