“Lucy,” she whines.
“I know, Gwen, but I wanted to tell you before you made plans.”
She sighs through the phone. “Even if I had plans, you could either come with or I would cancel,” Gwen replies like I’m being dumb. We spend another twenty minutes chatting before I let her go with the promise to call her as soon as I know my schedule. I’m a little nervous about what she’s going to plan, especially since I’ve given her time to think about it. Maybe I should have just invited her to a movie or something.
I catch myself looking outside more than usual as the sun goes down. Before it can disappear below the horizon, I recheck the locks on all the windows and doors and pull the curtains closed.
I’ve looked at my phone at least ten times, expecting to see a missed call from Winger, but I haven’t heard anything from him yet, which makes me think he probably isn’t going to call. Gwen will have a fit if I can’t commit to a night out after dangling it in her face tonight.
“I’m going to bed, babe,” Mom tells me. “It’s nice having you home for a change.”
I give her a half-smile. “It’s only been two nights. I get that off most of the time, but I feel like I don’t know what to do with myself,” I confess.
“Relax,” she comments, like it should be easy, and it probably should be. “I heard you talking to Gwen earlier, you two making plans?”
“Maybe, as long as she doesn’t have anything too crazy in mind.” I don’t have to explain more than that. Mom knows Gwen almost as well as I do.
“Did she ever decide where she was going for school?” Mom frowns and looks over at the TV, pretending that’s what caught her attention, but I know the truth. She feels guilty that I’m not going off to college, but that was never my plan anyway.
I wince and admit, “She did, and she told me, but I forgot. I’ll ask her when I see her.”
“Okay, I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” Mom says, then makes her way down the hall, disappearing into her bedroom. She’ll watch TV for a few hours before she actually goes to sleep.
After another hour of flipping through channels, I head upstairs. I’m not tired yet, but sitting on the couch isn’t helping me relax. A shower might help.
I gather some sleep shorts and a shirt out of my room before locking myself in the bathroom. It’s an old habit from when I was younger and Mom had a room down the hall. After lighting two candles on the sink, I turn off the light and start to fill the tub. It takes a few minutes to get hot water way up here. The old pipes groan in protest as water splashes into the tub, drowning out most of the noises from the house.
I used to bring my radio in with me, but I would have to turn it up so loud to be heard over the water, there wasn’t much of a point.
Instead of rushing like I usually do, I take my time under the spray, using some of the soaps Gwen bought me for Christmas a few years ago. When I get out, I follow my usual skin care routine. Two things no one wants to see on a stripper are body hair or dry skin. I started waxing after working at the club for a month—shaving every day is exhausting.
I grab my phone along with my dirty clothes when I exit the bathroom. A plume of steam billows out into the hall when I open the door. Instead of finding my door open, like I swear I left it, the door is closed. I hardly ever shut my door unless it’s when I go to sleep, because I’m always listening for Mom.
Planting my hand on the door, I push it open a little and peer inside. My lamp is on, and now I’m second-guessing if I left it on or not. After scanning the entire room, I move toward the closet. It’s the only other door, and it’s usually closed. My heart thumps fast, and my grip on my dirty clothes tightens. When I jerk open the bifold door, I get hit with the scent of cologne. It’s not all that unusual since I keep my work bag in here and that gets sprayed with about twenty different fragrances a night—some from being in the dressing room with the other girls, and some from just being around so many people at the club—but this is stronger than usual, more pronounced. Instead of being a mash of smells, there’s one strong scent, all warm and almost spicy, that reminds me of leather. I take another sniff and kick my bag. It’s not like someone could be hiding now that the doors are open. It’s just a shallow closet.
I shake my head and toss my clothes into the hamper. I’m still jumpy from last night, feeling overly paranoid.
I hearher take a deep breath after she opens the closet door. I oiled the hinges months ago, but I can still hear the sweep of the door across her matted carpet. I usually don’t come so early, and I forgot it’s only been two hours since my shower. I think she can smell me. Fuck, that makes me hard. I wish I could watch her chest rise and fall, but I’m behind the attic access door. I wish I would have installed cameras so I could watch her, but I know that’s fucked up, even for me. Plus, I probably wouldn’t get shit done if I had access to her through a live feed.
Once the closet doors are pressed closed, I crack the door I’m hidden behind. It’s been oiled too, thanks to me, so it doesn’t make a sound. I also know right where to land so my footsteps won’t make a creak.
The lamp has been turned off, but the glow of the TV is enough to let me see her silhouette through the slats in the door. I spent a lot of time in a closet like this growing up, so I got comfortable with small places. I’ve always been an observer, but viewing her makes me forget about the past. When I watch her, she’s all I see.
She picks up her phone but tosses it to the side after examining it for only a moment. She keeps darting glances at the door, almost like she knows I’m here. I start to wonder what would happen if she found me…
She screams,but it’s quickly muffled by my hand as I grab her and pull her close. Her blue eyes, wide with fear, stare right into mine. I see the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. “Shush, I’ve got you.” I put my nose near her temple, taking in her scent and the softness of her skin—skin no one but me is allowed to touch.
Her muffled cries heat up my hand, but she’s quiet. She’s a very smart girl, and she knows being loud would alert her mother, who she will do anything to protect. That woman is why she’s on my stage, allowing greedy eyes all over her flesh. If it wasn’t for her selfish mother, she would have never crossed my path. But we are destined. She is mine.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” The promise burns my tongue, but I swallow the pain. Knowing me is to be hurt. I hurt everything. I would never mean it though, not unless she left me or allowed someone else to touch her.
Silent tears fall from the corners of her eyes. I lick her cheek, tasting her soul for the first time. She stills against me, only her breathing alters.
“What do you want?” Her voice is hushed, breathy.
I tell her the truth. “Only you.” More tears fall.
A phone rings,and it breaks the illusion. My hand is on my dick, and I’m squeezing hard enough that my cock should be black and blue, but it feels amazing, so I don’t stop.
