All Chapters of Dirty Shifts: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

As I walked up, Emma’s whole face lit up.Curly hair wild and free now and no more tight prison braid pulling it back.She yanked me into a hard, fierce hug, arms thick and strong from years of scrubbing floors and lifting heavy shit inside.“Finally, bitch,” Emma murmured, voice all choked up and thick. “We been out here freezing our damn asses off waiting on your fine ass, babe. Missed you like crazy.”Sophia stepped up next, wrapped me in a hug so tight it hurt good, holding on longer like she wasn’t letting go ever again.Her dark eyes still carried that storm shit I never quite figured out.“Welcome back to the real world,” she said low, voice rumbling deep like thunder in her chest.We piled into the car—Sophia behind the wheel, Emma in the passenger seat, and me in the back like a kid on a field trip.Emma turned the radio way up, blasting an old pop song from the years we lost.She yelled over the music, “Let’s go be bitches!”Her hand

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

“I’ll give you five grand. Cold cash, straight in your hand. One song, that’s it. You give me a show worth my money, when the lights come back on, you bounce the same way you came in. No touching, no grabbing, no extra shit. Just business and mad heat.”Five thousand dollars for one song.My mind lit up like fireworks. That pitiful bank account laughing at zero, revenge still simmering hot and vicious in my veins, Evan’s smug, punchable face smirking from every screen like he still owns pieces of me.I stood up slowly, thighs shaking, slick sliding down between them. Shoulders back, chest out, chin high, hips rolling like the whole damn room was mine to fuck.Run that fucking music, boo,” I purred, velvet voice wrapped in steel, sliding into full savage queen mode, and ready to make him regret even thinking he could handle the fire I’ve been holding for ten years locked up.He pulled out his phone, tapped once. Boom, nasty bass flooded the room, slow and filthy,

~ Ryan ~I don’t usually watch the floor feeds.The club runs itself. Vicky handles the girls, the money, the drama. I stay upstairs in the office—glass wall overlooking everything, tinted so no one sees me. I like it that way. Invisible. In control.But tonight I couldn’t look away.She walked in at 9:03 p.m. New girl. Emily. Vicky had mentioned her in passing yesterday. “some convict fresh out, thinks she can dance.” I’d rolled my eyes. Another desperate one. Another body to fill the roster.Then the camera caught her.Black skirt hugging her hips, her top stretched tight over her boobs that looked too full for the cheap fabric. Hair dark and loose, falling past her shoulders like she didn’t give a fuck who was looking. She moved through the crowd like she owned it with her chin up, eyes sharp, serving drinks with a smile that didn’t reach them.I zoomed in on the main feed.Her hands were steady pouring whiskey. But when a drunk suit grabbed her wr

~ Doris ~We rolled up from the club to the apartment building a little after four in the morning, the city still half-asleep but the streets already smelling like yesterday’s rain. My feet were screaming in these cheap-ass heels, every step feeling like I was walking on broken glass. Sophia killed the engine and the three of us just sat there for a second, windows fogged up, the car still thick with club smoke, perfume, and that faint sticky-sweet scent of spilled champagne and sweat.“Fuck me,” Emma groaned, stretching her arms so wide her tits nearly popped out the tiny top she still had on. “I swear my ass is numb from all that grinding. I danced like my rent depended on it tonight.”Sophia let out a low, tired laugh and rubbed her eyes. “Your rent does depend on it, bitch. And mine too. Let’s get inside before one of us passes out right here.”We dragged our tired asses out the car like zombies in designer heels. The doorman didn’t even blink when he s