“She burned up the stage tonight. Don’t you agree? She may no longer be a Cherry Pie virgin, but she is definitely a slice of sweet Cherry Pie. Let’s hear it for Muse.” He drew out the name Muse.
I leaned in closer to Dirk and whispered. “Do you want a lap dance tonight?”
He simply nodded, and I thought I saw him swallow.
“Give me five minutes.”
I picked up my bra, stood up, and glanced over at Richard. The look on his face should have been satisfying. It wasn’t, however. He smiled. He smiled like he’d just unwrapped the best Christmas present ever. I strutted off the stage to the whistles and clapping.
“Yeah, Muse.”
“Encore.”
“You got to come back.”
My heart pounded in my chest when Carol met me with my kimono. I slipped my bra back on, repositioned my boobs, and then slipped on the kimono.
Carol pulled bills from my g-string and organized them. I felt like a race car driver coming in for a pit stop.
“Reggie. You were great out there. Damn, I wish I could be as sexy as you.”
I helped pull out bills, especially the twenty that had grazed my pussy.
“Oh, Carol. You’re gorgeous. You’d be great out there. You could shake those big boobs of yours and men would thow money at you.”
Carol blushed and continued organizing and counting bills.
“Richard was in the audience.”
“Ass-Hat?”
“Yeah. He had a hundred-dollar bill waiting for me.”
“Did you hide it?”
“No, I moved past him. I wasn’t going to let him touch me.”
“Why not?” a male voice from behind me asked.
I turned to see Richard standing there with that grin on his face again. He always dressed well, and tonight was no exception. He had on a black Tom Ford suit, blue shirt, paisley tie, and black Tom Ford shoes. The suit looked good on his athletic frame. He wore his brown hair slicked back with a liberal amount of hair product, and his brown eyes twinkled.
I couldn’t deny that he wasn’t attractive. My problem with him happened to be because, among Alpha-males, my ex-husband reigned as an Alpha-hole. He was the model for a narcissist.
I fought back the urge to tell him exactly why. That his touch repulsed me now. The fact that he made my skin crawl. I experienced these powerful feelings and triggers even though I’d done my share of therapy, meditation, and letting go ceremonies.
“I don’t want your money,” I said.
“I heard you were doing well. I didn’t realize you owed your new prosperity to stripping. Tips must be fantastic.”
God, I hated him at that moment.
“Three hundred fifty dollars tonight,” Carol said, but regretted it when she saw my eye roll.
“Hey Carol,” Richard said, giving her a nod. Returning his attention to me. “You must do pretty good in the Cherry Pit?” he asked. Or was it a statement?
“I don’t perform in the Cherry Pit.” My blood boiled again but not due to desire this time. This was pure, seething anger.
“Is that what they call it now? Performing.”
