“Why are you looking for her. Worried?”
I shook my head, not inclined to delve into Candy’s worries or my concerns with a stranger. “Not worried so much as frustrated. She promised a friend she’d come by and see her, but Amy tends to flake out, so I’m guessing the lure of Vegas was too much for her.”
“It is alluring,” he said. His eyes did another swoop over me, and I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest. “Speaking of alluring …” He pulled a fifty from the money clip that sat on the table beside his empty drink. “How about a lap dance, honey?”
The thought made me vaguely ill, and I realized that although I was fine with the dancing part of the deal I’d made, lap dances were technically part of my job.
Well, damn.
I leaned over and lightly pressed my finger to his forehead. “Hold that thought, sugar. I have to go do my thing onstage, but you’re the one I’ll come to after.”
Lust flared in his eyes as I started to walk away. And then, just because I was getting into the part, I turned around and winked at him.
The other girls for the upcoming set were already in the dressing room, and we chatted while we got ready. I asked them about Amy, but no one said anything I didn’t already know. At one point, I glanced at a snapshot, one of many on a bulletin board. The girl had blond hair, bangs, and a dimple that highlighted a friendly smile. I did a double-take, then realized it was only another girl who looked a bit like Amy.
“That’s Emily,” Sapphire said when I asked. “Weird, huh?”
“What?”
“Well, you’re right. They look a bit alike, and they were both heading to Vegas.” She exhaled, a sad, lonely sound. “Sucks that Emily never got there. You know, it seriously pisses me off that the cops haven’t learned shit. It’s like she was just a dancer in a strip club and they just don’t care.”
“I’m sure they care,” I said, but I know I didn’t convince her, and I made a mental note to call my friend in the Chicago
I did my own makeup—and didn’t mess it up too badly—and then the intro music was blaring and it was time to head out.
This time, I knew right where Tyler was when I climbed onstage. A nice little perk as that lessened my nerves considerably. I danced and swayed and flirted with the customers and the pole, all the while keeping my eye on the man at the bar—my man, who was leaning back, his expression bland except for the heat in those blue eyes that never once left me.
I added an extra shimmy just for him, and reaped the reward in tips from nearby customers. Not a bad deal, really.
When the set ended, I headed straight for the bar, but was waylaid by one of the men, who flashed a hundred dollar bill, then tucked it in the band of the G-string I wore. “I’m looking for a little quiet conversation, sweet thing,” he said as I took a step back, suddenly feeling very naked and wanting a bit of distance from the panting way he was looking at me. “Why don’t you come with me to the back?”
I was running through my options for saying no, when Tyler approached, then plucked out the bill. He handed it to the man. “Sorry to disappoint, but this lovely lady has a private engagement in the VIP room.”
I almost sagged in relief. “Sorry, sugar,” I said. “Maybe next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Tyler said when we were out of earshot. “You dance on the stage. Nowhere else. Not unless you’re dancing for me.”
I feigned shock. “But what about the man waiting for me in the VIP room?”
“Change of venue,” Tyler said as we entered the employee section. “He’ll see you in my office.”
He had me inside and pressed up hard against the wall as soon as the door closed behind us. I gasped, breathless from his long, deep kiss, as he slipped a finger inside me, even while easing down to take my breast in his mouth.