“What’d you say, Ivy?”
Caramel’s sweet toasted vanilla smell wiped the remnants of the past from my mind.
“Nothing to worry your sweet little head over.”
Her bouncy blonde curls appeared in the mirror beside me, and I watched fondly as she swiped bubblegum pink lipgloss across her plump lips.
Her brows dipped above baby blues eyes as she asked, “If a guy texts, ‘u up?’ before nine—”
“Run,” I deadpanned. Caramel was a hopeless romantic and couldn’t stand to be without a boyfriend, which meant she was colorblind. Thankfully for her, I had perfect vision.
“Seriously? What if he wants to get breakfast?”
Hopeless. She. Was.Hopeless.
“You’re a stripper, Carm.” I patted her on the shoulder, trying my damndest not to pity-smile at her stricken expression. “Trust me, they never want breakfast.”
“They want you to throw on some gloves and handle that morning wood, honey,” said Sapphire with a wink that looked even more saucy when she wore nothing but red nipple tassels on her giant tits.
“Whadyya all standin’ around for?” Vinny stomped into the dressing room, followed by a chorus of ‘hey!’ And ‘get the fuck out!.’ “What, ya think I’ve never seen your tits? On stage, on the floor, now!”
Though the others looked scandalized, I just laughed. Vinny and his sky-high blood pressure was a great source of entertainment in my eyes. And, he wasn’t wrong. He’d seen everything we had to offer a million times over.
One thing I could say about Vinny was that he had never been handsy or taken advantage of any of us. He may have been an asshole, but he was not a monster.
“Chill out, Vinny,” I crooned, patting his cheek before bending to lace my strappy heels. “We’ve got you covered.”
“Well you’ve all got a shit way of showing it.” He rubbed the balding spot on the back of his head and paced away muttering, “Killing me!”
I glanced in the mirror one last time, took a deep breath, and prepared myself for the night.
There was a small thread of guilt that always accompanied sacrifice night, and it was slowly weaving its way to the forefront. I snipped that shit quick, though, as I closed my eyes, recalling the stomach-turning smell of stale beer and nicotine, letting the laughter out front of the club rub against my skin the way theirs had.
The wayhishad.
Wraith-like fingers scraped over my trembling skin. My bones ached where they’d shattered, and a sharp pain lanced between my legs.
The undead part of me blew a kiss of darkness and poisoned any guilt that lingered. I would find three men tonight who deserved it and deliver their rotting souls to the King of Hell.
***
“Gentlemen,” our MC, Troy, called out over the speakers. “Please stay firmly rooted in your seats and watch your ankles and wallets. Our next Luscious Lady will wrap her vines around your heart, poison your mind, and send you stumbling out of our doors penniless, clueless, and in love.”
“Pfft,” I scoffed.
“Please welcome, Poison Ivy!”
God I fucking hated that name. My hair wasn’t even red.
I proceeded into my favorite stage routine while dancing to ‘Magic Pu$$$Y’ by Dana Dentata. Cheers erupted as I unclasped my bra with a smirk, and their cheers morphed into moans when I threw it off to the side. A crowd full of predators who didn’t know they were being stalked by an apex predator.
It was easy to spot my prey.
Most men made lewd gestures, flung disgusting nicknames left and right along with wrinkled ones they’d wiped all over their balls for fun. They weren’t who I was looking for, however.
No, I was hunting the type of man who was never alone. His intense sociopathic nature kept him surrounded by boys too stupid to think or act on their own – boys who were easy to control and do whatever he asked. He would be the only man in the crowd who was still with too watchful eyes. Eyes that never failed to draw women in with their mystique and dominant gleam.
That was until he had them right where he wanted them, and the sick games commenced.
