While it was disappointing, my plan was to make the best of it. Easier said than done.
I aged out of the system, and the group home was quick to toss me on my ass, leaving me, a new Omega, with no place to live.
Using my body to get by wasn’t what I had planned for my life, but it was what I was forced to do.
It’s been a year since I started working at the Slick Shack. I tried to leave when I realized how fucked up this place was, but when Rico found out, he used his Alpha bark and commanded me not to leave his place if I was going to dance at another.
But I can’t do this anymore. I’d rather die than let one more sleazy Alpha put his hands on me.
What Rico doesn’t know is that I’m escaping tonight. I already packed up everything I own, not that it’s much. It’s all waiting in my shitty, beat-up car, ready to go.
There's been a lot of whispers by other Omegas here of a place in the Colorado mountains. A town in the middle of nowhere. A place safe for Omegas to start over.
But talk is all it’s been. When I tried to look up the place, I couldn’t find anything on it. Without knowing a name, it's nearly impossible to find anything credible online.
Still, I’m willing to take that chance. Willing to risk everything I’ve saved for the past six months to drive there in hopes of finding this mythical haven.
What's the worst that could happen? I don’t find the place and start over in whatever nearby town I stop in? It’s better than staying here.
Heading out to the stage, I hold it together long enough to do my routine.
It reeks of Alphas, the smell so strong it stings my nose. I grit my teeth and push through.
Rico doesn't allow us to take blockers or suppressants, stating it would ruin the experience. At least being nineteen means I don’t have to worry about going into heat just yet.
I’ll be long gone from here and living a new life before that happens.
The men shout and whistle, tossing dollar bills onto the stage. Knowing I need every bit of money I can get, I move away from the pole and sway my body toward the edge of the stage, letting the men shove bigger bills into my G-string, before blowing them a kiss and giving them a wink. What I really want to do, though, is vomit at their touch.
After my set is done, I gather my money and leave the stage.
“Good work,” Rico grunts around his cigarette. “A few men are asking for private lap dances in the back,” he informs, holding out his hand for his cut. I grind my teeth and count the money. Five hundred.Not bad.
I give him the hundred-dollar bill. He snatches it out of my hand and shoves it into his pocket. “Good boy,” he growls.
“No sex,” I tell him.
“What?” He glares at me.
“I can’t have sex with any of them.”
“Why the fuck not?”
God, this is so embarrassing, but I have to remember it’s a lie, one that will get me out of having to fuck one of those men tonight.
“I’m on antibiotics,” I say, clearing my throat.
He frowns harder. “The fucking clap?” he groans, and I nod my head.
I love having to lie about having chlamydia. The fucked up part is, there is a good chance of getting it in a place like this. While we’re required to get regular STD testing, Rico lets the customers go without protection. Afterwards, I have to scrub my body raw. The amount of douches I have to do in a week makes me sick. Literally. You’re not supposed to, but I put alcohol in it for an added cleansing.
“Fuck sakes. Fine. Go,” he growls.
Nodding, I dip back into the shitty dressing room and stash my money in my bag before heading toward the back room.
Thankfully, the dances don’t take long, and only a few men get handsy. After I’m done, I head back, get dressed in a pair of black joggers and a grey hoodie, and grab my bag. Then I go find Rico to give him his cut so I can leave.
“Angel, I need you to take over Jimmy’s shift tomorrow night,” Rico says as I’m about to leave his office.
