“Hey, handsome,” Tawny says with a smile. She makes no secret that she’s eye fucking me as her blue eyes study me from head to toe.
I’m in black ripped jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt, which exposes the tattoo sleeves on both my arms and also the ink on my neck. Tawny tilts her head to get a better look, but she’ll be looking for a while. My tattoos are private. I didn’t get them for people to fawn over or ask questions. I got them as a permanent reminder of what I’ve done. And what I must do to avenge my brother.
Clearing my throat seems to snap her from her gawking.
“Are you done out here?” she asks, gesturing with her chin to the stools.
“Almost. Why?”
“A couple of lights have blown in the dressing room. I would change them myself, but I just got my nails done.” To confirm her claims, she wiggles her long Barbie pink nails at me.
This is clearly a ploy to get me alone, but I have a job to do. The sooner Tawny knows I’m not here for anything but that, the better it’ll be for us both. So I nod. “Sure.”
Tawny’s face lights up. “Thanks so much.”
I gesture for her to lead the way.
She ensures the way is led by her wiggling her ass in the cutoffs she’s wearing. Her long legs seem amplified thanks to the cowboy boots she’s sporting. As I observed last night, she isn’t unattractive in the slightest, but she just doesn’t do it for me. It has nothing to do with her looks, and everything to do with the fact that I wouldn’t have to work for it.
She’s basically serving her tits to me on a silver platter, but I’m not interested. Nothing in my life has been easy, and I don’t expect women to be either.
The dressing room is bigger than I thought. It has four different shaped mirrors attached to the walls, and each mirror is bordered with lights. The tables are littered with lotions and makeup. The backs of chairs have colored feather boas twirled around them.
In the corner of the room are lockers. But as far as change rooms are concerned, there are none. There is nowhere private for the girls to change from their costumes once their dance number is up. It’s a communal room where protecting one’s modesty is nonexistent.
Kind of like the showers in prison.
“It’s these lights,” Tawny says, interrupting my thoughts. When she passes me a box of bulbs, I see where a few of the lights on the mirrors have blown.
Ensuring our fingers don’t touch, I reach for the box and walk over to the first mirror. I can see Tawny’s reflection as I turn off the switch and unscrew the bulb. She is anything but shy as she openly stares at me.
“So your name is Bull?” she asks, as that’s what Lotus referred to me as.
I nod in response.
“Were you born here, Bull?” My name trickles off her tongue like honey.
“Yes, sadly,” I reply, replacing one bulb. Only five more to go.
“Me too. I always thought I was destined for bigger and better things, but here I am.” She spreads her arms out wide. “I tried going to college, but it wasn’t for me. Stripping was supposed to be a temporary thing; yet, three years later, I’m still here.”
“Nothing wrong with being a stripper,” I state, peering at her briefly in the mirror. “The douchebags think they’re in control, but you’re not the one throwing cash at them.”
“I never thought about it that way,” she muses.
“Well, now you can.” I move to the next mirror and unscrew the bulb. Just as I reach for a replacement, I feel and smell Tawny behind me. I spin around and grip her wrist, stopping her in midair from touching me.
Her lips pull into a sassy smirk. She thinks this is a game, but it’s not. “Wow, you have like superhero reflexes. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she teases, batting her eyelashes. “With all that muscle, you could easily be Superman.”
She leans in close, too close, but I stand my ground. “I’m not the hero in this story, Tawny.”
“You don’t want to be my white knight?” she asks, her tone filled with sarcasm. I have no idea what that means until she clarifies. “Someone who thinks they can save a dancer from a life of stripping.”
“Definitely not me.” I snicker.
“Then what are you?” she challenges, pushing out her chest. Her tits are mere inches away from me, which means they’re mere inches too close.
Tightening my hold on her wrist, I lower my face to hers. She inhales sharply as her straight white teeth tug deliberately on her bottom lip. “I’m the bad guy,” I reply dangerously low.
I’m not trying to be melodramatic. It’s the truth. Yet my words only seem to excite her all the more.
Her pupils dilate, and her cheeks flourish a wicked red. “I like bad boys,” she hums, breathing deeply.
My demons roar to the surface, demanding I show her just how bad I can really be. But I shove them down deep. I don’t shit where I sleep. “Do yourself a favor then…don’t like me.”
She wets her lips, ready to speak, but when I hear a familiar voice, my attention drifts to the door. When I see who enters, memories of when I saw her last slam into me, and I squeeze Tawny’s wrist unintentionally.
Tiger has her cell pressed to her ear, talking happily to whoever is on the other end. “I’ll see you later. I love you, baby.” When she sees us, though, she stops dead in her tracks, replacing her smile with a stiff upper lip. She’s clearly confused as to what she just walked into.
Instantly, I let Tawny go, as the exchange looked rather heated, and it was, just not in the way Tiger thinks. When she finds her footing, she shakes her head, as if clearing the haze. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here. I just need to grab my purse. I forgot it last night. I’ll be out of your hair in a second,” she says in a rushed breath.
Tawny remains close to me, appearing to gloat. I immediately take three steps away.
Tiger marches past us and heads straight for the lockers. She turns the dial, which is an amateur move, as I now know what the combination to her lock is.
1021.
I wonder what the significance is? Maybe her birthday? Or maybe it’s the birthday of the person, or rather, the baby she just told she loved?
What does it matter? I need to stop fixating on her.
I quickly turn around and finish replacing the bulbs on the mirrors while Tawny takes a seat and lights up a cigarette. The girls don’t make small talk, which makes me think they don’t like one another. When the locker door slams shut, I look in the mirror, wondering what’s going on.
Tiger has her back turned, so I take this opportunity to watch her unguarded. She’s in yoga pants, a baggy tee, and well-loved Chucks. Her long hair is twisted into a high knot on her head. When she turns, I see that her face barely has any makeup on, which I like.
Last night, I had the inexplicable urge to wipe the red lipstick from her mouth. However, I had no issues devouring her mouth with it on. My cock twitches at the memory. But that memory is soon replaced with pain and blood, and how I wanted to corrupt her, to taint her, so I’m not the only one marred with this blemish on my soul.
She meets my eyes in the mirror, but it’s only for a split second before I swiftly busy myself with changing the bulbs. I need to be more careful. She is toxic, which will only lead to trouble…for her.