Two

SIX YEARS LATER.

MONICA.

I need money. Of course I’m going to take it.

The lights in the club dim down as the song approaches its end. I lie across the stage, sinking my nearly naked body on the sheet of dollar bills lying on the shiny floor.

A smile is on my face, that ‘fuck me’ smirk that all the men here love. They all holler, making it rain, and I bask in it for one more moment before sweeping my loot into my arms.

I like to think that I’m some sort of a bandit, a temptress who takes what she wants from men who don’t know any better. All to distract myself from the fact that I’m just a desperate stripper, spinning on a pole nearly every night in front of men who very well know that I’d do just about anything for cash.

Stepping away from the spotlight to give way to the next girl, I head to the backstage to put my money into the counter.

Andy comes in immediately, because god forbid any girl here takes a dollar more than their share.

“The cash is all here,” I tell her, holding my arms out as soon as I leave the huge heap on the table. “You can check my boots. I’m not stealing from you.”

Andy, a woman in her fifties with the biggest bosom I have ever seen, just laughs at me.

She owns this club called Original Sin in downtown New York. She used to be a stripper herself until one of her regulars, a rich old Wall Street guy, decided to put a ring on it.

Now she manages about three dozen girls, sniffing out every dollar.

She puffs on a cigarette, making me gag internally. “I know you’re not stealing from me, Monica. In fact, you just gave me my biggest steal tonight.”

“What do you mean?” I ask absently, adjusting my harness. “Did someone tip me?”

“Even better. Someone requested you for private time.”

Ah. The private rooms upstairs. This is where the women do what we’re not allowed to do on stage. And no, it’s not just for a lapdance.

“Andy, you know I don’t do that.” I shake my head. “Like yeah, I know that we both know I need cash. But I’m not going in there to blow any of those idiots.”

Andy rolls her eyes. “No one is asking you to suck dick. Look, it’s a new client. He just came in here and he’s some foreign business guy. He saw you onstage and he said he wanted you. And I said I would give you to him.”

My mouth is wide open. I can think of so many colorful words to tell her, but then again, I need this job.

“And how long does he need me in there?”

“He didn’t say, but I figured I can give him whatever he wants.” Just as I’m about to complain, Andy takes out a huge wad of cash from her pockets and slaps it on the table. “Ten grand, darling. And that’s just a downpayment. He said he’s got something special for you.”

“Yeah, probably unwashed junk,” I say, unable to stop my mouth. “Andy. Come on. You can’t do this to me. I made it very clear that I don’t want to be involved in the private stuff. Don’t I earn you enough just performing?”

“No, you don’t,” she says flatly. “It’s room ten. Go on now and make me proud.”

“Andy,” I try to say, but she just slaps my ass.

Laughing, she takes away her cash and leaves. She seems to have forgotten about the money I just brought in from my dance, so I line them all up as quickly as I can and hide them in my locker.

Private room. Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m about to go in there and give an old fat man some head.

Well, I don’t really know if it’s an old fat man, but it has to be. They’re the types who are loose with their money. The young men who come in to have fun are mostly pretty broke, thinking that twenty bucks is enough to get you all over them.

It’s not like all the young men are pleasant, either.

Taking a deep breath, I take the elevator to the uppermost floor. I catch my reflection on the mirror. My red hair is still bushed up from my stunt earlier, so I do my best to comb it down.

Apart from the dark green thong I’m wearing, there’s nothing much covering my body. Just the tassels on my nipples.

For the first time in my career, I feel exposed.

I’ve been a stripper since I was eighteen, but five years into the business doesn’t seem to have toughened me up at all. My hands are going numb right now, and I feel like it’s my first time going up on the stage.

Hell, I didn’t feel this nervous that night, and I had gone all nude.

The elevator stops and I flinch, walking out into the hallway. The number ten sign on the door at the end seems to be calling to me, and it doesn’t take long for me to get there.

I push open the door, and the first thing that greets me is the cool, musky scent of a man’s cologne.

My mouth goes dry. My nipple hardens under the tassels. The lights are dim and burning red, but I can very clearly see the silhouette of a man sitting on the couch in the corner.

And he’s not what I thought he would be.

He’s tall and muscular. I can see it from the outline of his suit. I can’t see his face but I can make out his eyes, and they’re fixed on me. Glued on me. Like I’m the only thing that exists in his world and he wants to just take me all in.

Maybe even to consume me.

The sound of my heartbeat echoes in my ears. The man beckons me to come closer. He smiles, and my breath hitches in my throat. Why does it feel like he has me tethered to a string, and now he’s just effortlessly pulling me?

I have no choice but to come closer to him, and he surprises me by looping his arm around my waist and slamming me down on his lap….

Right onto the raging erection under his pants.

“Come to me, siren. I’ve been waiting for you.”