Page 29 of H E R
One of them touches himself, and my admirer licks his lips. “Okay, lovely, deposit eight hundred into your account.”
I beam as I strut up the steps, almost rushing to the back, where the staff retreat to take quick but frequent breaks. When a figure steps in front of me. He has a simple black mask over his emerald eyes and has salt and pepper hair.
“You realize those men preferred to look at you rather than the show onstage?”
I startle and press my back against the wall next to the bar, but force myself to recover and produce a practiced smile instead of fleeing to the closed off staff section. “I hadn’t noticed.”
The man raises his chin, then licks his lips as he covers my body with his stare. Jasmin’s words play in my head.Neck and spine straight, shoulders back, ass perky, tummy tucked. You’re a fucking goddess.
I’m about to issue one of the many lines I memorized when a drunken man walks past us and trips on literally nothing. He lunges forward and spills his tall cocktail all over me. I squeal in response to the ice slapping my bare skin. The silver fox shoves the man and his arm is in front of me, as if to protect me. I stifle a laugh. The drunk guy crawls away and is followed by a naked woman with a paddle in hand.
“I’m sure he’ll be punished justly.”
The attractive middle-aged man turns and adjusts his tie. “I’d love a private room with you.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I lie.
“Hopefully this will entice you,” he slips a black and silver card into the belt over my left breast with a couple of folded hundreds, and walks away. The metal is cool against my skin, but I don’t look at it, instead I move to the quiet space reserved for staff.
The room is dark, with dimmed lamps on tables beside lounge chairs. There's a fridge stocked with water and a snack table. There are two private bathrooms with showers and a section behind a wall that looks like a gym locker room, complete with open co-ed showers.
A nude female covers herself with a robe while chewing on an apple. An oily male server with a black thong and a red collar chugs down a water bottle desperately, and a naked woman is splayed on the couch with her legs crossed. We all keep our masks on.
The room connects to the side that works as a locker room, and I walk past the darkened room and press my back against the cool metal of my locker.I can do this.
The emerald eyed, silver fox works forel cerro. I’m moving in the right direction. I’m here for the cash flow and to unveil the scumbag.I got this.
The rest of my shift goes smoothly, but by the end of the night, I want to yell at someone,anyone. I’m sick of smiling; my face fucking hurts. The mask clings to my face as it drips sweat, I stink of booze, my feet are throbbing, and I can feel an ugly blister growing on the back of my ankle. I want to take off the thong that’s stuck between my ass cheeks and bathe the fucking night away.
“I have to count the tips for the bartenders. Give me twenty minutes.” Jasmin’s all business as she lays out the bills on the bar.
“I’ll wait outside with security,” I tell her as I put my hooded, knee length cardigan on and toss my backpack over my shoulder. I’m tired of naked bodies, and the staff area currently has three naked men and two women going at it—full orgy. I’m good.
“You did amazing tonight,” she calls and I smile.
The late night, early morning offers a cool breeze in the otherwise balmy darkness, and I rustle in my cardigan, eager to feel it all over. I want to rip the fucking mask off my face, but I notice the security guard still has his on, even though all ofNym-Pho’sclients are gone.
He’s smoking a cigarette, the cherry bud burns bright, and the smoke travels to me and swirls in my face. He nods, acknowledging me, but keeps his thoughts to himself and I’m grateful. I can’t come up with more bullshit to say tonight.
Suddenly, a bright strobe of light beams in our direction, blinding me. A shriek pierces the still night.Fuck, cops. I don’t know why I freeze. I’m not doing anything wrong, but the corruption brimming their shields stills my heart and suffocates me. Taking me back to the night my parents were killed.
“Remove the masks. Zorro’s party is over.”
I want to roll my eyes at the stupid comparison, but stop myself. I recognize that voice. It’s Detective Lloyd. Fuck, what if Dylan is with him? I don’t look at the security guard, and he doesn’t look at me, but we both take our masks off.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” He hooks his finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. The fucker’s face is split in two, a ridiculous smile taking over his splotchy face. “Justice, I’m going to bring you in for underage drinking and employment to an establishment that clearly caters to stuff you have no business being a part of.”
There is no better time to come clean. “I’m not underage, Detective Lloyd.”
“You can tell me all about it at the station. Come on.”
He jerks me around and throws my backpack to his comrade. Not Dylan. Fuck, where is he when you need him? I have a feeling he’d handle all of this differently and wouldn’t allow any other to cuff me. Lloyd slaps shackles on my wrists and then pulls me to his squad car.
I cock my head at the security guard. “Can you tell Jasmin I’ll be home after this fool figures out his mistake?”
He nods, his face giving nothing away. He’s a stoic statue, and I know he’ll deliver my message. Lloyd shoves me in the back of the car and I curse under my breath. “If you bruise me, I’ll press charges.”
His new partner tells me to shut up and I glare at him. I should’ve waited with the orgy.