Every girl who dances at Sapphire Rise is hot, but they all start to blend together at a certain point. I’ve seen so many tits in my life, I’m practically desensitized.
Sure, they look nice bouncing around when a girl rides my cock. But past that, I don’t give a shit who they belong to.
If that makes me an asshole, so be it. I’m not looking for attachments. The last thing I need is some girl gettingjealous over my job or the time I spend with my club, no matter how sweet or pretty she is. Relationships cause nothing but problems, and I don’t have time for them.
Still, a man can appreciate a girl with skills like Tiffany’s. An innocent face and a downright sinful body. My cock was hard before she even touched me, which means she’ll do well at Sapphire Rise.
I stand up, shaking off thoughts of how good she would look on her knees with her lipstick painting a circle around the base of my cock. “You’re hired.”
“Really?” Her smile brightens her whole face.
“Yeah, Kansas will get you on the schedule.”
Kansas, the strip club’s manager, stands up and hands Tiffany the clothes she discarded during her dance. Her eyes widen for a second because he’s a burly guy with a thick beard and a scar that cuts through his eyebrow from breaking up a fight at the club last year. But she’ll quickly realize he’s nothing but sweet with the girls who work here. And when he smiles, her face softens.
Kansas has worked at Sapphire Rise for over a decade now, and he’s one of the few people who isn’t patched in that the Twisted Kings trust with one of our businesses. He’s devoted to the club even though he isn’t a member, and he has our respect.
“Let’s go to my office and get you sorted,” Kansas says to Tiffany, waving out a hand and leading the way.
Her smile widens, and it draws out the light in her eyes. She’s new to Las Vegas and excited about it. Live here long enough and that excitement dims.
To tourists, this city is all booze, strippers, and parties. That’s what drew me in when I left Texas. In the years since, I’ve learned that one hit of a good thing is a hell of a rush. But it takes more and more to stay satisfied the longer you’re surrounded by it.
Lately, the perks that once drew me to this city do nothing but put me on edge.
Tiffany disappears with Kansas, and I circle around to my office to grab my laptop. It’s still early, so the crowd is thin, but girls dance on every stage. We operate like it’s a Saturday night every night. And even in the middle of the day, we only allow the best on our stages. I don’t care if someone is here at ten in the morning for a lap dance. They’ll get the same experience as a high roller on a Friday night.
We have our reputation for a reason, and it’s my job to maintain it.
Amber is on the main stage, twisting herself around the pole. The girl is fucking flexible. She does the splits midair, and she’s showered in money. My brothers give me shit for being so damn picky with the strippers I allow to work here, but sex sells, and it takes more than a pretty face to be successful. There’s a fantasy to uphold. Vegas is crawling with beautiful women, but in our club, they need to be charismatic.
They need to be the dream.
They need to be happy.
Like Amber, hanging upside down, bent like a damn pretzel. Smiling her way through, like dancing is the bestjob in the world. It’s my job to make sure the girls who work here continue to feel that way.
The music quiets as I reach my office and grab my computer. Costumes and broken furniture are stacked all over the place. This room is becoming more of a storage closet than a workspace lately because it’s too quiet to get any work done in here. I can’t think in the silence.
Grabbing my laptop, I head back to the bar and take a seat.
“What can I get ya, boss?” Brandy stops on the other side, smiling.
Her red hair is pulled back in a ponytail tonight, showing off her eyes. They’re even lighter with her dark eyeliner. Brandy has worked for me for five years now, and although I know how her lips feel wrapped around my cock, we’re just friends now. I honestly can’t imagine how we ever fucked because it’s not like that between us anymore.
“Whiskey.”
Brandy nods, turning to grab a bottle of my favorite off the top shelf.
I open my laptop, ready to be drowned in things I need to take care of.
When I moved to Vegas and joined a motorcycle club, I underestimated how much actual work it would be. Sure, auditioning strippers is a good fucking time. But the number of emails staring at me when I’d rather go get a blow job is exhausting.
“That new girl is good.” Brandy slides my drink across the bar, tapping her long striped nails on the glass beforeletting it go. “She’s got the whole fallen-angel thing going on.”
I follow Brandy’s gaze to where Tiffany is still talking to Kansas at the end of the hallway. He’s in the middle of giving her a tour.
“Yeah, the girl knows her shit. Didn’t know they had that kind of talent in Kentucky.”
