We’re both a sweaty mess when I finally collapse on top of her after a damn good orgasm.
I’d like to keep Sabrina here for a few more hours, but time is money, and she’s one of our headliners.
Moving off the end of the bed, I grab her hand and pull her to her feet, ignoring her protests. Then, with my shoulder to her stomach, I carry her fireman-style to the shower while she kicks her feet and squeals.
After we soap each other up thoroughly and play a little more, I step out and give her the space and time to wash her hair. I dry off, slip on a pair of jeans, and pad to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Once I get one going, I dial up my bookie.
“Yo, Alfonse, how’d my boy do last night?”
“Went down in the third round, good thing you only put a nickel on him.”
“Damn. All right. Thanks, man.”
“Call me tomorrow about the Ramirez fight in Vegas next week. He’s lookin’ real good.”
“Gotcha. Later, man.” I move to the table and grab a pack of smokes, shaking one out. I light it up and walk out through the sliders onto the back deck.
There’s not much of a view, since my backyard faces a set of train tracks, but I’ve got a big pecan tree that gives some shade and is home to a dozen squirrels. I look off in the distance and see my new buddy. He’s sitting by the tracks, just on the other side of an overgrown boxwood bush that’s covered up in spring honeysuckle vines.
As soon as I give a whistle, he comes loping toward me with his tail waging. He’s a young German Shepard mix with one lopsided ear and a heart of gold.
I grab the hose and fill the large aluminum water dish I set out for him. Then I step inside and grab a big scoop of the kibble I’d bought last week.
He laps at the water until the sound of the food hitting the matching bowl has him practically pushing my hand out of the way to get at it.
I laugh and run a hand down his mostly black coat. I’d love to take him in permanently, but with the life I lead, and the MC, things change at the drop of a hat, and I never know if I’ll be home. It wouldn’t be fair to keep a pet. Still, I do what I can for the pup.
The slider opens behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Sabrina is dressed in jeans and a simple scoop-neck t-shirt. Nothing too sexy, she keeps it modest when she’s not on stage. She’s smart with her money too. One of the few I know who is.
She wraps her arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”
“Just a stray. Been comin’ around for a while. You want a dog?”
She pulls back. “Me? No way. I don’t want dog hair all over my white furniture.”
“Or your new Corvette, I suppose.”
She grins. “That too.”
I look back at the dog and scratch his head. He’s taken to lying around the yard most days, so maybe he’ll be here when I get back. “Be a good boy, buddy.”
“Is that his name? Buddy?”
I shrug. “Gotta call him something.”
She traces a finger over the club tattoo on my back. “I should get going. I’m on at six and I need to get ready.”
I take another hit off my smoke and stub it out in the ashtray on the glass patio table. “Sure. Let me throw on a shirt. I made coffee. Help yourself to whatever you find in the fridge.”
I head down the hall to my room and pull a black t-shirt over my head, and brush my teeth. When I walk back into the kitchen, slipping on my leather cut, Sabrina is leaning against the counter and eating a Snack Pack chocolate pudding with a spoon.
“Slim pickings, huh?” I grin.
She points the spoon at me. “I didn’t know big, bad bikers ate chocolate pudding.”
I grab her waist and pull her to me. “We also eat butterscotch.” She smiles, and I order, “Feed me.”
She scoops up a spoonful and as I dip my mouth to it, her eyes drop to one of the patches on my cut. “So, I never asked you, what exactly does the treasurer of an MC do besides count money?”
I laugh. “It’s all about the money, babe.”
She arches a brow. “I suppose we have that in common, then.”
We arrive at Centerfolds, and at five in the evening, the parking lot holds only about a dozen vehicles. I pull around to the side and back into a spot next to another bike, which I immediately recognize as North’s, our club’s enforcer. I’m surprised to see him out so early.
We climb off my bike, and I put a hand on the small of Sabrina’s back to escort her inside. My eyes scan the lot. It’s a habit of mine, especially around here. These girls attract stalkers like bees to honey. It’s kind of early yet and all the cars are empty; at least there aren’t any freaks waiting in them like trolls. We keep a good handle on security here, making sure to escort each girl to her car at night. They’re not allowed to leave the building with a customer, although some of the newer dancers, naïve to the business, have been stupid enough to slip out with one. That never seems to end well.
I pull the door open and Sabrina strolls inside. I follow, lifting my chin to the door girl behind the podium, who’s there to collect the cover charge. We also strictly enforce that every customer’s ID is photographed upon entry. It puts the fear in most of them. They know if they try anything, they’ll be dealt with, and swiftly. If not here, then we know where they live.
“Hey, honey. How’s business tonight?” I don’t need to ask, because I saw the cars, but I always like to converse with the employees.
“Hi, Sly. It’s slow, which, I guess, is good because we’ve got a couple new girls tonight. Always better for them to get their feet wet when we’re not packed.”
I nod. “Thanks, doll.”
We move on down a corridor into the main room, which has a big stage with a runway and barstools that line up alongside it. There are also tables with plush, comfortable chairs in groupings that are more suitable for lap dances. Down another dimly lit hallway, there are several private VIP rooms that always have a bouncer stationed nearby to ensure the girls aren’t assaulted. Amazingly enough, some guys still try it.
Sabrina gives me a quick parting kiss and moves toward the dressing room in the back. I pause at the bar, where North is sitting on a stool facing the stage with his elbows on the bar top.
“How’s it going, brother?” I ask.
He looks over his shoulder at the bartender, a redhead I haven’t seen before. “Bring Sly a beer, will you, angel?”
She smiles and fetches one for me.
North reaches back and grabs it, passing it over. “On me.”
“Thanks, man.” I take a sip and sit on the stool next to him, gazing up at the dancer currently performing. She’s been working here a long time and she’s good—not Sabrina good—but she’s getting there. “How’re you doin’?”
“Great.” He grins over at me. “Sabrina, huh?”
I shrug. “I was up here at closing last night. One thing led to another.”
He chuckles. “Right. That’s usually how it happens with you.”
“Hey, all my brothers seem to be busy with their ol’ ladies these days. I’ve got to find ways to occupy my time, don’t I?”
“You’re so full of shit, Sly. You’ve never had a problem finding women to occupy your time.”