It’s not like me to beat around the bush like this. Normally, I’m direct with people. I should tell Amber this isn’t happening, but I keep trying to make it work for some fucked-up reason.
The DJ’s voice cuts through my internal spiral. “Gentlemen, prepare yourselves for Temptress!”
And there she is.
Nina walks onto the stage wearing leopard print lingerie and fishnet stockings that should look trashy but somehow look perfect on her. The music starts—“Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry—and she moves to the beat with a raw sensuality that makes every other woman in the room fade into background noise.
She’s got natural talent, and there’s something raw about the way she moves that makes my cock harder than it’s been all night.
Maybe all week.
“Jesus,” I mutter, shifting uncomfortably on my stool.
“I can see why you went looking for a classy woman like me,” Amber says, her voice dripping with disdain. “These strippers are such skanks.”
The words piss me off, and suddenly all the annoyance I’ve been swallowing for the past hour comes roaring to the surface.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, look at her.” Amber gestures toward the stage with obvious disgust. “It’s just so... desperate. So trashy.”
Something dark and protective stirs awake inside me. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please. She’s taking her clothes off for money. How much more pathetic can you get?”
I turn to face her fully, and she must see something dangerous in my expression because she actually leans back.
“Let me explain something to you,” My voice drops to the tone I use when I’m about to make someone’s life very unpleasant. “You don’t know that woman. You don’t know any of the women who work for me. And you sure as hell don’t know what brought them here or what they’re working toward.”
Amber’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
“These women bust their asses to make a living,” I continue. “They deal with assholes like you every single night, and they do it with more grace and dignity than you’ve shown in the past hour. So if you can’t show some basic fucking respect, there’s the door.”
My hands are clenched so tight around my glass I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. The urge to grab Amber by the throat and show her how ‘pathetic’ I can get is riding me hard.
Her face flushes red. “How dare you talk to me like that! I came all the way here for you!”
“Yeah, well, congratulations on taking an Uber. Want a medal?”
She shoots to her feet, pointing a finger at me like she’s casting a curse. “You just blew it, you dick. I would’ve been the best you ever had.”
I almost laugh. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
She makes a sound like a wounded animal and storms toward the exit, probably expecting me to chase after her. Instead, I turn back to the stage just in time to see Nina hook one leg around the pole and spin, her back arched in a perfect curve that makes my mouth go dry.
Best I ever had? Not fucking likely. The best I ever had is right up there, moving like sin set to music, and she’s the reason I couldn’t get it up for anyone else tonight.
Nina’s set ends, and she disappears backstage to change. I know she’ll be back out in a few minutes to work the floor, and I tell myself I’m not waiting for her. I’m just finishing my drink and keeping an eye on the club like any responsible owner would.
But when she emerges wearing that black satin number that’s been haunting my dreams, I can’t stop myself from raising my hand and waving her over.
I’m just being a decent boss. Having a civil conversation with her, showing her I’m not a complete asshole. Maybe getting to know her will help me get past this attraction. She might annoy me as much as Amber did.
She hesitates, and I can practically see the internal debate playing out on her face. Good instincts. She should stay far away from me.
But she doesn’t. She walks over with that careful grace that makes me think of a dancer even when she’s not on stage.
“Can I do something for you, boss?” she asks, and there’s just enough edge in her voice to let me know she hasn’t forgotten how much of a dick I’ve been to her.
