“Hey! Look what I got here!” He leered.
“Absolutely no touching, sir!” I said as sternly and as loudly as I could. I tried to pry his fingers off of my ass as my eyes scanned the room for some sign of rescue. I could manage this creep if I absolutely needed to, but our club policy is to let our bouncer, Parker, handle the “wet work”. Six foot five and nearly four hundred pounds, Parker is a former cop, fiercely protective of us girls and usually, very much on the ball. Right now he was nowhere to be seen. The club was so dark, crowded and loud, I figured he was having trouble finding me in the chaos. Hell, most of the throng didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss—music continued to play and the other girls carried on entertaining the rest of our customers with some impromptu lap dancing.
“Alright now, you’ve had your fun, let me go so I can finish my dance, honey,” I said, hating the syrup I’d poured into my tone for the purpose of appeasing some jack-off with self-control issues. He didn’t let go. I pushed up on his shoulders, ready to actually shout for Parker’s late ass when the spotlight raced, arcing around the room and back to my location.
This spotlight wasn’t for ambiance—it was a specific protocol that signaled a floor disturbance to our security staff. DJ Mandy sees all from her vantage point in the DJ booth and she had sent the blue light circling and landing on me repeatedly, a signal to Parker to get his burly bulk out on the floor. The spotlight spun wide, and caught the edge of a table in the back, illuminating a face for a split second. I squinted into the bright light, and saw a flicker, just a flash of the Professor’s face staring back at me from that shadowed corner. It was so fast I hardly believed what I’d seen. I certainly hadn’t expected him at the club tonight, and my heart sank at the thought of him watching me dance for all these men. At the thought of him watching me now.
“Stop struggling, you wildcat,” Whiskey Breath croaked at me. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”
“Not with me you’re not. Now let go of me.” I kneed the big guy in the crotch and managed to get one high-heeled foot back on the floor before he trapped both my wrists behind me with one of his meaty paws and whipped me around till I lay half over one of his shoulders. My dress rode up, exposing my G-string-covered backside to the companions at his table.
“Alright!” one of them crowed. “Now let’s really have some fun!”
A hand came down on my ass with a crack.
Oh no he didn’t. I kicked my legs, knees pummeling the chest beneath me and lifted my head to shout for Parker. The spotlight caught the Professor again, but he was no longer in shadow. He raced towards me now, long determined strides that swerved effortlessly around obstacles. Anger thundered across his face. I opened my mouth to call to him, to say what, I had no idea, just as I saw Parker come up from the right, barreling towards me with Sasha on his heels.
“You’re out!” Parker shouted, dragging the guy physically off of his chair as he pried me free and pushed me into Sasha’s arms. She tucked me behind her protectively, and I peered around her looking for the Professor. He was just a few feet away, standing in the shadows again, his fists clenched hard, his jaw harder.
“Thank you, I’m okay,” I mouthed at him. He nodded once, and turned back towards his table.
“Your man is here,” Sasha said, her eyes flitting to where the Professor sat in the dark as she took my hand and escorted me behind the stage, back to the dressing room.
“Looks like it.”
“Protective.”
“He almost got here before Parker,” I said.
“That was my fault,” she said, frowning at me. “I was distracting him. I’m so sorry. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I nodded and smoothed my hands down the front of my apron. “We’ve had worse than that guy.”
“Still, this crowd is getting on my nerves. I’m going to let the Specials finish out what’s left of the night. You go. Let your Professor take you home.”
* * *