Chapter 3

Dart

Striding into Satan’s Topless Angels, I notice, not for the first time, how sleazy the joint looks by day, when all the overhead lights are on, casting their glaring white light on the shabby velvet sofas and red satin chairs covered with stains, the origin of which I don’t want to think of. Table surfaces are pitted and worn with numerous rings left from glasses. The red carpet looks threadbare in parts, and the gold decorations of the curtains framing the stage look gaudy and tarnished. But by night, with the lights down low, the place looks very different. And let’s face it, the men who come here haven’t eyes for their surroundings. No, they just want to see what’s happening on the stage. And as long as we provide the talent, they keep coming back.

Angels happens to be my domain, the one I manage on behalf of my club. Recently we’ve lost a couple of strippers, leaving us short. Candy, I know, didn’t want to go, but her other half got a job up Phoenix way and she moved to be with him. Don’t blame the girl at all, but she was a great loss. A favourite with the customers. We left on good terms, her saying how much she enjoyed working here, and that’s down to Satan’s Devils taking care of our women, whether they be old ladies, club whores, or our employees. Strip clubs which turn a blind eye to some of their more handsy customers lose their best dancers fast. While the girls here know we’re always watching out for them, they’re happy, and reward us by giving their all on the stage. Yeah, it pays that they know we’ve got their backs.

Throwing a nod toward Road, one of our prospects who’s come in early to restock the bar, I glance around at the cleaners doing the best that they can to clear up the mess left from last night. Vacuums are humming, cloths scrubbing at the woodwork, trying to turn this place into something it’s not. But it will be good enough, and will bring in the cash. Money that will make Dollar, our treasurer, happy. And the draw of this place isn’t what it looks like. Fuck, even if it was bright and shiny no one would notice. Our success depends on the girls who strip off. The right ones will bring in the dollars, good tips for them, and more customers through the doors for us.

I’m here bright and early as a result of a short conversation in the Wheel Inn last night when I’d been approached by a woman. At first taken aback, Beef and I had discussed her proposal back at the club. Tucson is made up of mainly whites, with Hispanics coming in a close second. African Americans make up only around two percent of the half-a-million total population. Satan’s Devils is, of course, like most one-percenters, historically a whites only club, and to date, the Angels have had only white dancers. A black girl could add a bit of spice, if she can use that body of hers, of course. And from what I can recall, she was slender and shapely. Alex was her name, and that’s who I’ve come to give a try-out today.

We might have a strict club rule of being hands off—no employee of ours will be bothered by a brother—but we’re only men after all, and when there’s an opportunity to watch a new girl dance and strip, I’m not short of volunteers offering to help with the interview and audition. Today it’s Blade who’s won the honour, and it’s him, our enforcer, who’s currently walking toward me. Well, with all the shit jobs he has to do for the club, he deserves a reward.

“Dart! Beef tells me it’s dark meat on the menu today. Bit of a change from the ordinary?” Blade slaps me on the back as he approaches.

“Thought it was worth seeing what she’s got.”

“She stacked?” He holds the palm of his hands over his chest as though his words alone weren’t enough.

I take out my phone and check the time. “You can see for yourself in five minutes.”

“Unless she chickens out.”

Yeah. We get that a lot. It’s one thing to think you can be a stripper, quite another to actually take off your clothes in front of strangers if you haven’t done it before. I realise I’d been so caught off guard being approached as I had, that I’d omitted to query about experience. Shit, I hope this isn’t going to be a waste of my time, and Blade’s.

A bell rings. Road leaves the bar and goes to answer it. Together, Blade and I turn around in expectation. We don’t have to wait long before a woman comes into sight.

Well, fuck me! How I manage not to burst out laughing I’m really not sure. Blade coughs and covers his mouth with his hand. I try and peer around the prospect to see the other girl who’s surely coming in behind, but the only one entering is the one that’s causing me to almost lose my shit.

Oh fuck!

“Is that her?” Blade asks incredulously, his eyes opening wide. At my shrug, he suggests quietly in my ear, “Let her down lightly. She looks like a lamb goin’ to the fuckin’ slaughter.”

And that she does. Her mocha-coloured skin doesn’t completely hide the darkening purplish flush on her cheeks, and I can see her shaking from here. Christ! I don’t like hurting women, but there’s no way, just no fucking way. Leaning over to the enforcer, I let him know I agree. “I’ll just have a word with her first, then tell her gently. Don’t think I could bear to see her try and strip.”

“I’ve just had breakfast, man.” As he pretends to make a vomiting sound, I bat Blade’s arm, knowing I’ll be unable to hold it together if he doesn’t stop.

Road brings her over. I look her down, and then a little bit up. There isn’t far to go. Then being polite, I hold out my hand. “I’m Dart, this here’s my brother, Blade. And you are…?”

The little thing answers in a surprisingly husky and sexy voice. “I’m Alex.”

My eyebrow rises. “I was expecting someone different.”

“You spoke to my sister, Celine, last night.” She looks down at her feet.

And she’d misled me. I feel a twinge of anger. If she’d been upfront and honest we wouldn’t be going through this charade now. Blade nudges my arm, and when I look at him, gives me a pointed look. He knows me too well, so I tamp my rage back down. Fuck it though, this is a waste of my time. Did she encourage her sister? Make her ask on her behalf? Thinking back, there were two of them there last night. Though one quick glance had been sufficient for me to dismiss this one. Did they plot it together? And for what reason? Is this some kind of a joke?

I look down at her face, the woman’s biting her lip. She looks nervous. I glance again at Blade, and he just shrugs. Oh fuck it, might as well get on with the pretence. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to strip. All I have to do is talk to her a while and find a kind way to explain why it wouldn’t work. Yeah, like that’s going to be easy.

“So, Alex.” I’m still trying to adjust fitting the name to the girl in front of me, having been expecting her sister instead.

“Yes. Er, that’s me. Er, hi.” She gives a little wave, then drops her hand as though realising it’s not quite the way to greet bikers.

“Well, let’s sit awhile and you can tell us about yourself and your experience.”

As her face drops I realise it’s worse than I thought, and she’s probably never done anything like this before. I indicate the stools sitting by the bar. I take one for myself, Blade pulls up another for him, and we sit, waiting for her to hop up. Which she tries to do. But she’s too short, and the stool’s too high. After a couple of failed attempts, Blade growls beside me, then stands, lifts her up, and plonks her down on the seat. This time I can’t help myself chuckling at her outraged expression.

Blade doesn’t notice. “You a midget or something?”

“The correct term is dwarf,” she replies haughtily. “And no, I’m not, I’m just short. I’m four-foot eleven.”

That’s tiny to me, I’m over a foot taller. But at least she’s spoken up for herself and shown she’s got spirit. And her words have made me look at her mouth, which is luscious and full, just right for putting those lips around a man’s cock. Her eyes are large, and so dark with gold flecks. Her cheeks are a little on the chubby side, but attractive for all that, and her nose flares slightly. Her hair is tamed with some sort of gel, tight curls framing her face. All in all, she’s pretty enough. At my blatant inspection one eyebrow rises in challenge. Hmm, no shrinking violet here.

Her breasts are enormous, or perhaps they just look out of proportion on her small frame, and her ass seems to hang off the seat. Her stomach is rounded, she looks like a fucking ripe mama. Wiping my hand over my face, I wonder how quickly I can tell her the bad news.

But I’ll go through at least some of the motions so I don’t disappoint her. “So, you want to be a stripper, doll.” The endearment comes naturally, she’s such a tiny thing.

“No,” she replies quite seriously, shocking me. She’s come to an audition in a strip club, for fucks sake. But I come back to myself as she continues. “I really don’t. But I don’t mind being a dancer, and I’m left with few options. I’ll tell you upfront, if you need information to put me on the books, I’ll not waste your time further.”

Blade’s quick on the uptake. “Someone looking for ya, darlin?” He’s gone tense, and if there’s the slightest chance we’d take her on, well, there isn’t, but if we did, we’d need to find out who’s looking for her. Can’t afford to bring trouble to the club.

She gives a little shake of her head, “No. Yes.” Then as she realises her answer’s probably confusing, adds, “I really don’t know. But if he is, I don’t want to be found.”

“Who we talkin’ about, darlin?” Again, Blade gets in first.

There’s a slight hesitation, as though she doesn’t want to tell us. “My husband, ex-husband.”

“Well, which is it? Husband or ex?” I ask for clarification, a little impatiently.

“Husband, unfortunately. I have good grounds for divorce, that won’t be a problem, but I don’t want him to find out where I am, so I’ve not yet started proceedings.”

There’s normally few reasons why a woman doesn’t want to be found. I go for the most common. “He hit ya?” She’s so tiny, well, in stature, the rest of her is quite large. But even so, for a man to raise his fists to someone as little as her? The thought makes me angry.

There’s a flare in her eyes as she replies, her hand going to her cheek. “Only the once.”

But, good girl. So many women hangaround, lapping up the excuses until they’re too broken to run, or end up dead. That she only let him hurt her just one time shows she’s got backbone. Looking closely, I notice while it’s somewhat disguised by the dark skin and makeup, she’s got some scarring. I’m incensed on her behalf.

“To be honest,” I realise she hasn’t finished, “we’d been married six years and that was enough for us both. I believe he’ll be glad I’ve gone, but…”

“You’re not takin’ any chances.”

Gratefully, she nods at Blade.

“You got a place to stay?” I’m not sure why I’m asking. It must be the fact she’s so petite that brings out my protective instinct.

She smiles—the expression transforming her face, revealing she’s really quite pretty—and nods. “Yes, with my sister and her husband.”

“The girl you were with last night.” I’m glad she’s got family looking out for her.

Another nod, but this time the sides of her mouth turn down. “I’m sorry, I suspect that’s who you were expecting. She set this up. Set me up.”

“But you need work, and a job off the books.” Blade looks at me, and lifts his chin. It seems he’s taken a liking to this little pixie, and fuck me if I haven’t too. Perhaps we can find her some waitressing work. We do own the Wheel Inn restaurant, there might be something for her there, where her out-of-proportion figure wouldn’t be such a drawback.

I decide to be blunt. “Look,” I wave my hand at her. “You’re not really the type we employ here.”

Before I can finish my sentence, she interrupts, saying forcefully, “You haven’t given me a chance yet to show what I can do.”

Surprised, not normally used to someone cutting me off, it pulls me up. Part of me wants to teach her a lesson. “So you want to take your clothes off, show us what you got?” I suspect my harsh question will have her running. Berating myself, I wish I hadn’t spoken so sharply. Something about her makes me hope she’ll accept the challenge. While we’ve been talking, I’ve started to see her in a different light, and now I’m intrigued to see what’s under her clothes. She’s not giving away very much at the moment, though she’s wearing skin-tight yoga pants, her chest concealed by an ill-fitting sweatshirt. Though her top’s baggy, it doesn’t hide that she is indeed, as Blade had hoped, stacked.

She licks her lips. Fuck girl, just stop. I’m amazed as my cock twitches when my attention is drawn to her mouth once more.

“I don’t want to strip totally naked, I couldn’t do that. But I do want to dance. I’ll show you what I can do, and then you can decide.”

“You want to dance for us?”

“Yes, Blade, wasn’t it? Yes, Blade. I do.”

Her back straightens and a look of determination comes to her face. Blade looks at me and raises his eyebrow. I return his stare. A silent conversation between us of, What could it hurt? A few minutes of our time, that’s all it will take. I only hope I can hold off from busting my gut laughing.

Reaching inside the purse on her lap, she brings out a disc. “Can you put this on for me, please?”

At least she’s come organised. Calling Road over, I pass it to him. He looks at the title.

“Got this on the system already, Dart.”

“Go cue it up then.” Road knows his way around. Before becoming a prospect he worked here full-time as a bouncer.

She slides off the stool, a major achievement, but lands surprisingly lightly on her feet. Taking her purse along with her, she ascends the steps to the stage and approaches the pole in the middle.

“Oh fuck. I don’t know if I can fuckin’ bear to watch.” Blade covers his eyes with his hands, fingers splayed so he can still peer through.

But my attention has been caught as she rips off her sweatshirt. She’s wearing a tight tank underneath that reveals curves my fingers actually itch to touch. Next, she opens the purse and brings out a couple of items. A spray bottle is one, and she squirts it at the pole, another is a tube of something she squeezes onto her hands. I nudge my brother. “Looks like she at least knows what she’s doin’.”

“If she falls off, that ass is gonna dent the floor.”

“Can it!” I growl, for some reason wanting to give her a chance.

Suddenly the sound of claps and the first beats sound of Enrique Iglesias’ Bailando start to play. Her face splits into a grin as she approaches the pole, her body already swaying to the beat in perfect rhythm. As she takes hold and pulls herself up and performs some sort of cart wheel around the base, the way she’s pointing her toes seems to make her legs look longer. Then she’s hooking her leg around the pole, balancing with just one knee and leaning back and, oh fuck me, her back arched to the floor shows her breasts just begging to be caressed. In an amazing display of flexibility, the moves just keep coming, and all the time she’s keeping to the beat. When I get a glimpse of her face she’s smiling, her eyes flashing. She’s loving this shit.

I exchange a look with Blade. He’s fucking entranced. She’s doing some serious progressions, she fucking owns that pole. I’ve seen dancers aplenty, more than I care to count, but I can’t remember anyone quite so elegant, and at the same time so fucking sexy. What seemed to weigh her down when she was on the ground appears flattering when she wraps herself around the metal. She might not be naked, but she’s alluring enough as it is.

Oh, hell. What’s she doing now? She’s off the pole and taking a deep breath, her body still moving to the rhythm though. Is that it? Has she no stamina? She glances across to me, now her smile’s smaller and appears nervous, then her shoulders come back as she seems to come to a decision. Without hesitation, she takes her yoga pants off, and there’s the tank gone. It wasn’t the best striptease I’ve ever seen, but I’ll be fucked if it wasn’t worth it. Now all she’s wearing is a red satin bra and panty set, the colour contrasting well with her dark skin, and revealing the gentle curve of her stomach. She’d feel soft under my hands. And now she’s shimmering up the pole again. Christ, did I say she was sexy? What’s a word that means she’s even more than that?

She’s back on the pole and I can see more of her now, her muscles rippling, her skin glistening from the effort she’s putting on. How she can keep hold with just one hand, or just her ankles, I’ve no idea. She’s must have a lot of strength, particularly in her arms and thighs. But it’s not her athletic ability that gets to me most. No, it’s that ass and tits, and everything else she’s got. It’s the whole fucking package, and the whole way she’s shimmying and not once missing a beat.

My jeans get uncomfortable, and I reach down to adjust myself. One glance at Blade and he’s doing the same. He catches me noticing, and sends me a wry look.

“I’ll be the first to admit I’m wrong, Brother.”

“Me too, Blade, me fuckin’ too. If we can compromise she’ll wear a thong and pasties and does a striptease as she’s comin’ down that pole, the customers will go wild for her.”

“She fuckin’ owns it, Brother.”

I watch her again. She seems lost in her own world. Her lips are curved up in a satisfied smile as she twists and turns, pulls herself up, and lets herself slide again. She’s loving it. She’s not dancing for me, she’s dancing for herself.

Blade’s right. The patrons would fucking love it.