CHAPTER 4

Emma leaned in close, her eyes dark and hungry.

“When they say stripper, they fucking mean it, girl. You dance on stage, spin on the pole, give private dances. Guys get to grab your ass and if they tip big, their fingers slide right over your clit while you’re grinding.

The club takes fifty percent of everything you make on the main floor.

But anything extra? VIP rooms, dark back corners, or sneaking to a hotel after closing? That’s your pussy. Your rules. Your full cash. No cut for anybody.

Last weekend I fucked three regular guys. Bent over, ass high, let them pound me raw with no condom, deep inside till they exploded. Walked out with fifteen grand in clean bills. All mine. No sharing. Just cash and cum dripping down my thighs.”

My pulse throbbed hard between my legs.

“You two are dead serious about this?”

“Dead fucking serious,” Sophia said, voice low and cold. “You wanna bury Evan for good? You need real money. Money buys silence. Buys witnesses and buys sharp knives if you want them bloody. This hustle is the fastest way to stack that kind of paper.”

Memories slammed into me like a fist…Evan’s hand forcing between my thighs that night, his cock rock-hard against my hip. Whiskey breathed hot and sour as he growled, “You want this dick, don’t you, sweetheart?” I screamed.

Mom slapped me when the cops came. “He’s the victim here,” she spat with dead eyes.

I slammed the beer back in one go, throat burning.

“Fine. Teach me how to fuck guys for money.”

Sophia’s smile turned wicked and nasty.

“That’s my girl. Tonight you watch and learn. Tomorrow you spread those legs wide and start dancing for cash.”

****

Hours later the weekend owned the whole damn night.

R.M. club swallowed us the second we stepped inside.

The bass slammed into my chest like a fist.

Red and purple lights slid slow over sweaty skin, making everything glow nasty.

Girls twisted hard on the poles with their thongs soaked through, boobs bouncing wild, hips grinding rough against the shiny metal like they were fucking it.

Rich dudes sat legs spread wide, fancy watches flashing on their wrists.

Their cocks were rock-hard, bulging and straining against those expensive pants, looking ready to rip the zipper open any second.

Emma pressed her lips right to my ear, breath hot.

“Vicky’s at the bar.”

Vicky Gavin looked like a straight danger wrapped in high heels.

Platinum blonde hair, ice-blue eyes that could freeze you mid-step, black blazer hanging open like she didn’t give a fuck.

Under it? Just thin black lace barely holding on and her hard nipples poked right through, stiff and begging for eyes, hands, mouths, whatever.

She dragged her eyes over my body slow and greedy, like I was fresh meat dangling on a hook and ready to get fucked raw or sliced open.

“New pussy?” Vicky asked Sophia, voice dripping with that cold hunger.

“Yeah. Emily Jayden. She’s ready to play.”

Vicky hit me with a nasty little smirk, lips curling like she already owned me.

“We’ll see how tough you really are, girl. First night? You just serve drinks in a tiny-ass skirt that barely covers your cheeks. No hands on you yet. If you make it through without losing your shit or crying, then we talk about throwing you on the pole.”

She spun on her heel and walked off with no goodbye, no waiting for my reply.

Just left me standing there like I was already hers to break in.

Sophia squeezed my hand tight as we headed to the changing room.

“She hates new girls like poison. Thinks every fresh piece of ass is gonna steal her top-paying regulars, those rich fucks with the fattest cocks and deepest pockets who drop big money to pound her raw. Just ignore the bitch but give her respect because she runs this spot. The owner's a damn ghost, so Vicky is basically God in here.”

I spent the next four hours in a tiny black skirt that barely covered my ass cheeks, carrying trays of whiskey and pretending those wandering hands sliding up my thighs didn’t faze me.

One guy slipped a crisp hundred into my waistband, leaned in close, breath hot on my ear.

“I’d pay double to see you drop to your knees and choke on my cock till your eyes water, baby.”

I smiled, the kind that says “fuck you” without a word and walked right past the asshole like he was nothing.

My hips swayed just enough in that tiny black skirt to make him feel it.

I felt his eyes burning into my back, but I didn’t give him shit not even a glance.

By the time the club shut down, my feet were screaming in pain and my panties were soaked through and dripping wet from all those greedy stares and the way my pussy kept pulsing and throbbing against the thin fabric.

I hated how my body betrayed me, getting turned on like that.

Sophia and Emma dragged me into the dressing room after the last call.

Three other girls were already in there, counting fat stacks of cash, laughing loud, passing a joint around like it was nothing.

“First-night nerves hitting you hard?” one of them asked, blowing a thick cloud of smoke straight in my face.

“Something like that,” I mumbled, keeping my voice low, eyes on the floor.

She leaned back, joint dangling from her fingers, and grinned.

“Anyways, I’m Lana. And you?”

“I’m Emily,” I said, finally looking up.

Lana’s smile went wide, real and warm in this den of wolves.

“Wow, nice to meet you, girl. Welcome to the family.”

Emma cracked up hard, slapping her thigh loud enough to echo.

“Family? Bitch, please. We’re more like a pack of wolves who know how to share the kill and split the cash.”

“Just wait till your first private dance, girl,” Emma said, grinning wide. “You’ll walk out with a grand stuffed in your hand and a sore throat from deep-throating dick like a fucking champ.”

Sophia shoved me toward the big mirror, hand firm on my back.

“Tomorrow you really dance, girl. We picking your song — something slow and nasty, the kind that makes those rich fucks lose their damn minds. You gonna have ’em on their knees, begging just to get one touch of you.”

I stared hard at my reflection:

Eyes tired as fuck, bags heavy from the long night.

Nipples stiff and stabbing right through the thin top like they were ready to fight or fuck.

Thighs still shaking from the adrenaline rush and that deep, dirty lust pooling low in my belly.

Heart pounding like it wanted out.

But between my legs?

I was soaking wet, panties ruined, pussy throbbing like it already knew what tomorrow was gonna bring.

And my mind was already locked on one thing — how I’d make Evan John regret the day he ever shoved his hand between my thighs like he owned me.

Then the dressing-room door flew open.

Vicky stood there, arms crossed tight under her boobs, pushing them up like a challenge.

She stared straight at me like she already owned every curve, every inch of my skin.

Her voice cut through the chatter like a razor.

“Emily. Someone wants you. Private room 4. Right fucking now.”