That’s not what Mr. Grandlen said, I thought with annoyance. “I’m twenty-three,” I repeated, noticing that the manager had left while I’d changed.
“Uh huh, aren’t we all,” she said as if she didn’t quite believe me. Whatever, I thought. I didn’t have to prove anything to her. “Come on,” she ordered a moment later, snapping her fingers. “Time is money, and the less time on the floor, the less money I make.”
The woman got to work. Her hair was dyed platinum blonde, like mine had been immediately following the trial. Unlike mine, though, her thin face was painted in makeup. Her brown eyes were ringed in a wash of smoky grays and blacks with a blood red stain on her pouty lips. While she was a professional, I was skeptical that I wouldn’t look just like her by the end of this little makeover session. Although, it would no doubt help bring in extra tips if we looked like twins. And I certainly wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not at the precipice of the shitshow my life could turn into.
She started with my hair, quickly curling and putting it in low pigtails. The tips of my soft tresses grazed my shoulders as I shifted slightly, glancing at her outfit in the mirror. Sexy military, it seemed, with tight-fitting camo shorts that cut up the ass and only an army green vest on her torso, her tits straining the buttons of her top to the last thread holding them together. As soon as the curls were done, she tied some red ribbon around the ponytails and got started on my makeup. Eye shadow, liner, mascara, lipstick. She worked it all with the speed of someone who knew what she was doing.
“Alright, you’re done. Go find Grandlen, and he’ll get you set up with a section on the floor.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, slowly getting up from the stool.
She huffed a single laugh and called out over her shoulder as she shoved out into the hall, “Don’t mention it.”
It didn’t take long to get set up. I was told to grab a notepad and pen to take orders and pointed to a set of tables that were declared ‘my section.’ Essentially, it was the same thing I did at Brutello’s, only in much less clothing. As the hours stretched by, my tips started to rack up, easing my worry little by little.
The downside to the job was every few minutes a guy tried to touch my ass or leered my way, and I fought through it all with the hope that I’d make enough to cover the difference in my new rent price. As I neared the two-hundred and twenty mark, I breathed easier. Only thirty left until I’ll have enough. Thankfully, I’d managed to avoid the worst of the clients, but in the last stretch of my shift, my good luck came to an end.
“Hey, sexy,” a man slurred, his eyes half-lidded as he slumped against the small table in front of him.
“What can I get you?” I asked, standing far enough away so he couldn’t reach me while raising my voice so he could hear.
“Are you on the menu? ‘Cause I could use a tight pussy tonight.”
I was totally over this asshole, so I just stepped up to the table. “No.” I deadpanned. “Do you need another drink?”
“Psh, no,” he grumbled waving me off, his mood turning sour at my rejection. Biting my tongue, I’d curved around the table to move to a nearby booth in the corner when a palm slapped the curve of my ass. Jumping, I swatted his hand away. Adrenaline flooded me, my breath hitching as I saw the cocky grin on his face. Swallowing the retort lodged in my throat, I shuffled away, keeping my head up and continuing over to the bar, hoping some water would help calm my irritation.
“Mary! You’re good to head out for the night. Get changed and come to the office so I can pay you,” Mr. Grandlen hollered as I reached the darkened stretch of counter. Smacking the top of the bar, he turned and headed back in the direction of his office. I kept my pace controlled as I dropped my notepad and pen in the bin under the register, but all I wanted in that moment was to rush home, wash off the feeling of the drunk’s hand from my skin, and get some goddamn sleep.
The changing room was empty, the music muffled enough that I felt like I was able to take a deep breath for the first time since coming to the club. Working through the buttons on my top and the short zipper on the plaid skirt, my limbs grew sluggish as exhaustion pressed down on me. It was when I removed the uniform and I stood in my white bra and panties, I heard the door open.
At first, I didn’t think twice about it, but as soon as the lights flicked off, my heart started to race. It wasn’t pitch black, the glow from one of the vanities filling the space, and with the curtains and racks of clothing, it was difficult to maneuver. Maybe the lights are motion sensored? I questioned silently, moving little by little so I wouldn’t trip, but I stopped dead when a familiar slurring masculine voice sounded.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
The racing of my heart turned to pounding, the ending of his statement nearly lost amongst the sharp thud in my ears. My chest constricted as I tried to find a way out from behind the curtain without the drunk noticing.
I peeked out of the back corner of the thick velvet curtain, searching for an exit as his cruel smile and hard blue eyes found mine between the edge of the fabric and the wall.
“Well, hello there, just who I was looking for.”
My eyes widened as he stumbled forward, shoving the curtain open. I didn’t wait for him to reach for me before kicking out, my foot clipping his leg and allowing me about a foot of free space to slide around his body. I bolted, or at least I tried to. A steel arm wrapped around my stomach, yanking me back. Surrounded by a wave of pungent stale alcohol and the stink of body odor, I gagged. The man turned, muscling me away from the door despite my attempts to loosen his vise-like grip.
“Let go, you stupid asshole!” I yelled. He squeezed me tighter as I tried to elbow him, but because of how intoxicated he was and the fact that he was so bulky in size, it didn’t seem like he could hear or feel my puny attempts to get away.
“You smell so sweet…” Lips touched my neck, and I shuddered in disgust, redoubling my efforts to get away. Revulsion rolled through me, nausea making my stomach clench and my skin feel as if it was electrified. “Shhh.” The man’s wide palm came up, covering my mouth as I parted my lips to scream for help. “It’s okay, I got you. I got exactly what you need.”
I froze for a brief moment—as if I were unsure as to what I was feeling. An erection brushed against my ass, rubbing insistently. Fuck.
Fighting harder, my adrenaline gave me a boost of energy despite my exhaustion, but it seemed to be in vain. The man pushed me back into the changing room, shoving my face into the wall as his hands gripped my sides, digging into my skin so hard that it hurt. I released a breath and dropped my weight. As he released me, I slid to the floor and rolled onto my side. Glancing up, I reached for something—anything I could use as some sort of weapon—but there was nothing within my reach.
Before I could get onto my hands and knees to scramble away, the man’s face appeared, his leering gaze centering on me. Except his pupils were blown so wide they practically swallowed the color of his irises. This man wasn’t just drunk. He was on something. Something dangerous. His hand came down and reached for my neck, fingers squeezing roughly as he chuckled at my attempts to escape, his hips grinding against my front.