Page 69 of Rigid

“Show us your tits!”

“Yeah, show us your tits!”

I turned slowly, gyrating my hips to the beat of the music, wishing all along that I hadn’t given any notice. I regretted not walking in and simply quitting. For the first time since I started dancing, I felt guilty for doing so. It wasn’t because I perceived the profession as wrong, because I didn’t.

But I could no longer separate the real me from the make believe me, and the girl who was on stage was slowly falling for a man who asked her to stop performing.

And I hadn’t.

As I turned toward the front of the stage, I heard shouting from the entrance of the club. It grew louder and louder, and then I saw Craig rush in the direction of the commotion. I tried to focus on the music, lose touch with whatever might be happening, and simply make it to the end of the song without becoming an emotional mess.

“Show us your pussy,” someone hissed.

“Fuck yeah! Take that fucking bikini off!”

One of the men who was shouting got up and began to climb on the edge of the elevated platform where I was dancing. I glanced at where Craig normally stood, only to realize he hadn’t returned.

The overeager patron pulled himself onto the side of the dance floor, rose to his feet, and began writhing to the music as he shuffled toward me.

“You’re a sexy little bitch,” he said, his tongue thick from the alcohol he’d consumed. “Come here. I’ll help you get that top off.”

Still dressed in my bikini, I folded my arms over my chest in protest of his offer. “Get off the stage!” I said through my teeth.

“Hey motherfucker,” a familiar voice shouted. “Get the fuck away from her!”

I looked up.

Oh shit.

Smokey and another man were mere feet from the front of the platform and coming in my direction as fast as they could maneuver around the tables.

The music stopped.

Short of the commotion in front of me, the club fell silent.

“What the fuck?” someone shouted.

A group of men stood from their table and turned toward Smokey and his friend.

“What the fuck, dude?” one of them said. “She was getting’ ready to show us her puss.”

While his friend continued toward the stage, Smokey spun to face the three men and began a very one-sided fight.

In my time at the club, I’d seen many fights, several of which involved bikers, but I’d never seen three guys get their asses kicked that quickly. In three or four punches, and what appeared to be one headbutt, the three men were on the floor at Smokey’s feet.

I glanced to my left.

Smokey’s friend, who I now recognized as a club regular named P-Nut, had climbed onto the platform. Upon seeing him, the man who was approaching me pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open with a click!

Oh shit.

“He’s got a knife!” I shouted.

P-Nut glanced at the knife, and then looked at the man and grinned. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Why are you smiling?

“Better bring more than that if you wanna fuck with the Nut,” he said, laughing as he spoke.