CHARLOTTE

Something changes when you experience your first orgasm. Why I’d waited until I was twenty-four to have one was beyond me. Orgasms were the bomb! And I knew for sure I wanted lots more.

With Deck.

I was sitting at my desk in my tiny little office, looking out the window and watching the students play while thinking on and off about Deck. Lunch had come and gone… well, for them since my lunch had consisted of a bottle of water. My grumbling tummy was going off every few minutes, reminding me of the extra payment that had to be made to my family.

But despite that, I was in the best mood possible. Deck wanted to date me. Well, I had said that to him, and he had answered in the only way Deck could.

“Not fucking dating you, Sweetness—claiming you.”

At the time, I had been shocked. You didn’t claim a person. But apparently, in Deck’s world, you did. I suppose I could have kicked up a fuss, and by all standards of the modern woman, I really should have, but I really, really liked the idea of the rough, hard, sexy, and loving single daddy claiming me.

I could feel my smile growing even wider as I thought about Deck and our conversation last night after our make-out session and after we bathed and read to Shiloh together.

“So, are you my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend?” Even as I said the words, I felt like an idiot.

“You’re my woman, Charlie, and I’m your man. This isn’t high school, and we aren’t playing, babe. I want to see where this takes us, to see if it’s heading where I know I want it to.” His no-nonsense reply, I was learning quickly, was how Deck lived his life. No bullshit. No regrets. No crap.

I knew where he wanted to go, and my mind was starting to understand it. But my heart, which had taken a fair old beating over the years, still needed to be reassured.

“It’s so quick, Deck. Are you sure?” I hated that I sounded so needy, so unsure of myself. But Deck just smiled at me.

“Never been surer of anything in my life. I promise you, Sweetness, I’m so fucking sure about us.”

So here I was, twenty-four years old, and I had a man, a fairly pathetic-paying job—which I loved in spite of that fact—and a little girl who was fast becoming a part of my heart. Okay, I had a crapload of debt and a piece of shit car, although it now had a new battery and two new tyres, thanks to Deck and his club’s mechanics shop. I had a cat that sort of liked me, a horrible place to live, and I was still a virgin. The thought made me grimace.

What if I sucked at sex? I mean, I was bad at masturbation. I had never managed to make myself come during the few times I had tried. Last night with Deck had shown me that I didn’t even get close by myself. But with Deck? Good gravy! He was a master, and I wanted so much more.

Last night, I thought we might go further. I mean, he took off his shirt, and I was pretty sure he enjoyed it when I played with his nipples briefly—I know I did. After that, though, he stopped, gently cleaned me up, and dressed me. He gave me the sweetest kiss and then led me out to the main room where we gathered Shiloh and spent the rest of the night with her.

Frustrated with everything, I grabbed my water and took another gulp, hoping it would fill my stomach until I could get home and grab something little to eat.

Moving my gaze back outside, I watched the children play until the bell rang.

“Excuse me.”

I turned around and saw the school’s receptionist. Violet was eighty if she was a day, and quite possibly, the nicest lady ever born. She was like everyone’s perfect grandmother or favourite spinster aunt. She made up for all Mrs Fum’s—Thank you, Shiloh—meanness.

“Yes, Violet. Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms Jackson, but you have a phone call on the main line. I thought I would come tell you in person so you-know-who doesn’t hear about it,” Violet informed me, the sly grin on her face making me laugh.

“Thank you, Violet. I will take it in here.”

“Line five, lovey.” Then she took her leave, shuffling back up the corridor.

Poor thing will take ten minutes to get back to her desk, I thought absently as I picked up the receiver from the desk and pushed the blinking button.

“Ms Jackson speaking.”

The voice that greeted me on the other end made my blood run cold.

“Charlotte Victoria.”

My head spun.

How did she find me?

My hand went straight to my stomach and touched the scar through my thin blouse. I always had the same reaction every time I heard one of their voices.

Feeling the blood drain from my face, I tried hard to make my mouth form a word. Any word. Fuck off would be appropriate right now. Where was Squirt when I needed her? Her words were perfect to use right about now.

“Charlotte. Charlotte, oh, for heaven’s sake, you idiot, answer me.” The hated voice berated me from thousands of kilometres away.

“What do you want, Mother.” I didn’t recognise my voice. It sounded like I had been eating gravel.

“Well, it speaks,” my mother said, snarling at me. That was all she had ever done. Snarled. Called me an idiot or any other insult she could muster. But idiot was her go-to insult. And stupid—she used that one a lot, too. And it. I was nothing to her.

“You are two payments behind. I’m going to insist they get paid by the end of business hours tomorrow, or I’m putting it in my solicitor’s hands. Again.”

“Tomorrow is impossible,” I protested. How was I going to come up with an extra thousand in twenty-four hours? “I paid a six hundred dollar payment today. Surely, you can wait a few more days. It’s not like you need the money.”

And it was true. My mother and father were rich. Disgustingly so, in fact.

“Not my problem, Ms Jackson.” She spat out my last name. Three years ago, I had decided to change my name legally to my maternal grandmother’s maiden name. My mother had objected but couldn’t do anything about it. I didn’t want to share any name with them ever again. And as I’d loved my grandmother more than I had ever loved anyone else, I chose her maiden name. Something my mother had never touched with her vileness.

“Please, don’t do this to me. I’m so close to paying it off,” I begged. Damn, I was still begging this woman, who brought me to my knees and not in a good way.

I could feel the chill from her through the line, her hatred so palpable I could almost choke on it.

“Tomorrow at five, not a second later.”

The slamming of the phone almost hurt my ears she had slammed it that hard.

Staring at the receiver in my hand, I felt an overwhelming feeling of helplessness overcome me. How was I going to do this? I looked at my watch and saw that I had twenty-seven hours and forty minutes to come up with one thousand dollars.

It hit me hard. My grandmother’s watch. My mother had to know I still had it, and she hated that I did, hated that my grandmother had given it to me and to not her.

I fingered the delicate timepiece and knew what I was going to end up doing—just as my mother knew I would.

Angrily wiping the tears away, I pushed away from my desk and tossed my water bottle into the recycle bin.

I didn’t have any other classes for the day, which was a very good thing because, before I lost the last possession my beautiful granny had given me, I needed to get busy trying to raise the money.

Quickly, I started formulating a plan in my head. It admittedly wasn’t the best plan, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, as my granny always used to tell me.

To start with, I could sell my piece of crap car. There was a scrap yard I noticed the other day on my way to the compound. That would have to do—there was no time for anything else.

“I can do this.” The mantra played over and over in my head as I stood in front of the second worst place in the world, my parents’ house as the worst place. However, as I found out, pieces of crap cars didn’t bring too much money. In fact, it brought a grand total of one hundred and twenty dollars, and according to the man at the wrecking yard, he was giving me fifty dollars too much.

So, here I stood, dejected and totally out of ideas. I had been through my tiny apartment looking through my meagre possessions to try to find something to sell. I had come up with a few ballet items and costumes that I could part with, but other than Granny’s watch, I had nothing of value left. I had already sold everything to keep up with all the ‘extra payments’ my mother and the family solicitor had hit me with every time they wanted to mess with me.

And now I was here. Gypsies. A strip club run by a revolting human being, but a revolting human being who paid really well for short-time gigs.

My stomach churned, not just with hunger but also with deep-rooted humiliation.

I was just about to go in when my cell phone sounded in my bag.

Rooting around for it, I answered it without looking at the screen. I was just happy to have a reprieve from going in for a few more minutes.

“Hello.”

“Sweetness.”

Oh, that voice. My whole body sagged. I so needed to hear his voice right now.

“Deck.” My voice came out in a ragged whisper. I was so close to losing it right now. I didn’t want to go in and dance in this place, but I really had no other choice.

“Charlie, what’s going on? You weren’t at work when I went to pick up Squirt. I have been calling you all afternoon.”

He had?

“Oh, Deck, I’m so sorry. I must not have heard my phone in my bag.” I apologised as I moved closer to the large metal door. Shifty was expecting me. He had been after me to dance for him since he saw me dance at his niece’s recital last year. Of course, then I had told him to bugger off, disgusted by him. I was still disgusted, but now I was also desperate.

The pawnshop only gave me a few hundred for Granny’s watch. If I put that with the pitiful amount I got for my car, I was still well short.

After talking to Shifty, he guaranteed me the money I needed if I danced and stripped. I told him clearly that I would not be stripping. Under no circumstances was I taking all of my clothes off. As Deck was fond of saying—enough said!

So we negotiated terms, and I agreed to dance tonight and all day tomorrow until four o’clock. One thousand dollars plus all the tips I could make.

“Charlie,” Deck shouted into the phone.

Oh, Lord, my mind was all over the place.

“Deck, honey, I can’t talk right now. I’m sorry. I will call you tomorrow night.”

“Sweetness, I swear to Christ I’m just hanging on here. Where are you?” His voice had gone impossibly deep. My legs had no choice but to rub together. I felt that voice all the way down to my core.

Focus, Charlotte. I had a job to do, a not very pleasant one, but one that had already made my liquid lunch reappear in the bushes down the street—but I had absolutely no other option.

“I’m in hell.” I ended the call, doing my best not to let Deck’s screaming voice begging to know where I was affect me. I had to do this. I needed to get my debts paid so I could finally get my mother out of my life completely. Putting my phone on silent, I slipped it into my bag, but not before I felt it vibrating with another call. Oh, Deck, please, forgive me, I asked him silently.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed my hair back over them, took a deep cleansing breath, the last one for a few hours, and then opened the heavy door.

“Ah, Charlotte, I’m so glad you changed your mind.” Shifty was an okay looking guy. He was bald—by choice—he was stocky, not fat, but he was creepy as hell. My skin crawled as his leering stare took in my body.

Ewww… Just yuck.

“I’m here for two days, and that’s it. We agreed,” I reminded him straightaway. No way was I going to be here any longer than I needed to. “Promise, Shifty.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Here is the short-term contract, all legal and aboveboard.” He stopped and nailed me with a glare. “But you have to be here for the time agreed upon. If you ain’t strippin’ completely, then I get my worth, too.”

“Agreed,” I whispered, a sick feeling hitting my stomach again. Surely, there was absolutely nothing left in my stomach by now.

“Okay, just follow the tables to the back and find the dressing rooms. People are already here as you can see. I want you out on the stage as much as possible tonight,” he warned me. All business. Obviously, Shifty was going to make this agreement work as much in his favour as it would mine.

Well, I thought unhappily, not in my favour in a good way.

Turning around, I picked my way through the haphazard chairs and tables. Some men moved, and some didn’t. This was not a good decision, Charlotte, my girl. I could almost hear my granny’s voice chastising me from the grave.

Yeah, I thought as my bottom got pinched for the third time already. I was starting to believe that.