The Hustler Novels & Stories

Chapter One** Serena's Pov “Damn, look at her move! That body should be illegal.” Hungry wolves packed into dark corners as their eyes went wild and hungry as they stared at the dancers. But their gazes were fixed on me tonight—the masked stripper they called “Ivory” in Luna Lust Club.

I could tell they had a lot going on with the way their hair got messy. “Have you ever heard of being professional?" I asked them. "Come on now Enrico. Those were just a few minutes,” Marcus responded. "Says the man who wants to be a Don of Atlanta's biggest Mafia. Marcus, time is money, and I could have lost a million in those minutes, so you'd better start acting right or forget working with me,” I said about walking out when he blocked my way. “OK, I hear you, and I am sorry, Enrico. I'll do better next time,” he said and I then turned to look at the ladies.

He came to have fun. And besides running a modern market, hotel, and resort, Hugo also invested his money in building a new mall which Homer would later use to distribute his drugs, if possible. Hugo also owned several bars. In addition, he is also an influencer. He often creates videos about business and how to appear more attractive. "Mr. Hugo dated everyone, regardless of their gender. He was even spotted dating a trans woman. It became a headline for several weeks." It was so easy. Max even explained it down to details that Jefferson didn't even need. Jefferson had read the news about it, but just the title; Jefferson sure it's not something important.

He sat on the bed probably listening to the coller as he said. "Then who are you and what are you doing with my wife's phone"? He asked. "Are you Mr Amunsa, Mrs Dansanisa's husband? ". "Yes.... I am and who are you?" He asked. He clears his throat as he start explaining himself to Amunsa on the phone on the reason he called. "My name is Austin Balastino, a taxi river". "A taxi driver, ehhh and so what, how does that answer my question young man. What are you doing with my wife's phone, what's going on speak at once" Amunsa said.

It was the asshole who filmed that last video with my mate, the very top of the flier saying ‘LADIES NIGHT’ in bold print. Taking the paper, I brought it back to Lee and Jackson, shoving it in their faces. “This guy. Find him, then comb the area and figure out what the hell happened here. A homeless man, a streetwalker, I don’t care if it’s a fucking rat; someone saw what happened. Find out and find this asshole.” “Alpha,” Jackson looked at the flier and then at the destroyed building. “Is….is she even worth it? She was working as a porn star for-”

Carnation was about to stand when Luca spoke again. "I'm sorry." Carnation was taken aback and looked into her boss's eyes, puzzled. Was what she had heard accurate? Did Mr. Lust really apologized to her? "I know I shouldn't have ridden your mistake about me back then, and I shouldn't be enraged because you already know who I am." Luca sighed and looked away. He did not know how to explain himself. He could not find the right words to defend himself, he admitted to the mistake he had made to her. The truth is, he is a coward. He couldn't tell her he was the infamous Mr. Lust, the reason she's selling her body now. He couldn't handle seeing Carnation's disappointment when she discovered he w

The bass thumped, the lights flashed, and the crowd writhed in a frenzy of lust and desire. It was a typical Saturday night at Club Xtasy, the hottest spot in town for those seeking a wild time. Amidst the sea of sweaty bodies, one figure stood out-a tall, muscular white man with a tribal tattoo snaking up his neck, a telltale sign of his true identity.

Hugo shouted with amusement. “And you, Carter,” she began. “I loved you the best I could, and it still wasn’t enough for you. You whored around with other women behind my back. And when I had the nerve to say something about it, you hit me! And yes, I knew you were a crooked, drug-peddling thief, but you crossed the line when you let your homies sell drugs to eleven-year-olds and scam vulnerable old people out of their money, and wanting me to turn into your own personal hit woman to do your bidding. Oh, and I’m convinced that you got underage girls working in your whorehouses! It’s one thing to be ruthless in business. It’s another when you’re a sick—"

“But my job is to keep you alive. Mr. Prissy Pants is just a close second. So if you get a gun pointed at you, yeah, let the big bastard get between you and a bullet.” She grinned and I felt the tension ease. “‘Mr. Prissy Pants’?” “My name is Will,” I muttered, glaring at Hoot in the rearview mirror. “I know. William Masterson the Third. Like that ain’t the most prissy pants name on the planet,” Hoot snorted. “It is kind of prissy,” she agreed.

Austin smiled at the memory. It had taken money, whispering in listening ears, along with a few threats, to get Hudson out of cuffs and back on the streets after the stunt he’d pulled. He hated the manhandling of women, especially strippers and hookers, who he claimed weren’t there by choice. He had a warped sense of responsibility towards women who couldn’t fend for themselves.