Cut Wide Open
Page 11

 Abby McCarthy

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The club was nicer than a lot of clubs, and although Dick was a dick, he did take care of his club. He hired experienced dancers, and kept the drinks expensive enough that the clientele ended up being more upscale. I did not mind this, seeing as though I’d worked at other clubs and I didn’t make as much money and too many times people got handsy with me. I either had to quit, or my refusal to do certain things made it so I didn’t last long.
There were two rows of chairs around the stage, followed by free standing circular tables with four chairs around each of them. Beyond those were large posh booths with black suede backs. The lighting was low, but there was enough light that men could easily see each other. Lights rimmed the inside of the table to illuminate the dancer. On the edge of the table was a pole and in the center of the tables, hanging overhead, was a pair of gymnast rings.
Depending on the number of men at the table and the amount of drinks that littered it changed what I would use to perform.
As I approached the table, I put on my biggest faux smile. They were businessmen that reeked of money. Tailored suits, fresh pressed shirts and a mix of expensive cologne radiated off of the men.
Frank approached the table just as I did. He took my hand and assisted me as I climbed on the table. His presence reassured me that he’d be nearby. I made a note to tip him extra tonight. He knows how much I hate these.
The men at clubs like this tend to become just a sea of faces. No matter their size or their dress, they typically are all the same. They like tits, and don’t give a damn about fidelity.
I began to rock my hips, swaying back and forth. There was small rocks glasses on the table, filled with expensive Scotch. The Maker’s Mark bottle was half empty on the table. I was careful to avoid the glasses. A few men sat back in their chairs to watch my show while one man didn’t look at me. He was engaged in a conversation. His body was tight and it seemed that at any second, he could break the man he was talking to. One thing we learn as dancers is that if you sense a situation arising, you make sure you’re safe first, and second to that, you see if you can defuse the situation by distracting the men. This is what I choose to do. I increased my movement, used the rings to swing myself in a circle and bent forward in front of the man so that my feet were planted on each side of his Scotch, ankles and ass to him. I grabbed the pole to steady myself and then very slowly began to rock my hips forward and backward, all while arching my back. It was incredibly sexy and incredibly stupid. I had no idea that catching this man’s attention would be a critical mistake.
 
 
Chapter Four Charlie
 

“Don’t move!” A thickly accented voice commanded as he grabbed hold of my ankle stilling me. His hand was firm. I turned my body and made eye contact. To some, he’d be an attractive man. Dark hair slicked back, narrow nose, strong jawline, tanned skin, those were nice features that would’ve made him attractive, but his eyes, they were black and they were evil. I’d seen a few glimpses of raw, primal, evil in my life, and none of that matched the pure hate I saw. I sucked in an audible breath, as I heard him repeat through gritted teeth, “I said, don’t move.”
I tried to dart my eyes to Frank, but I couldn't see him without moving again. I tightened my hand on the pole and didn't move. The man kept his hand on my ankle, not moving, just gripping me tightly. It didn’t feel warm, it felt powerful, and not in a good way. I didn’t feel like I had much choice and that was something I hated, but it was only an ankle. He wasn't touching me otherwise. My ass was perched out and I was bending forward grabbing the pole. The good news was this man no longer looked like he was going to murder the man next to him. The bad news was that I was in his grip, and being in the grip of a monster sent shivers to my soul. It was something I was familiar with. Better the devil you know, right? Well, I didn’t know him, and as he made me stand there, my self-preservation screamed run. I couldn’t run though, not with my foot planted in place.
Dick was going to owe me for this shit.
The song ended and another began.
“Hands off the dancers,” I heard Frank who was easily two hundred and fifty pounds, and although rumor has it that ‘roids were a major contributor, it didn’t matter because he was a wall of muscle and at that moment, I didn’t care how he got big, only that he was there to save my ass.
“No harm. Just making sure she didn’t tip my drink. The harlot was very close.”
“Yeah well, she’s a professional. Hands off.”
“I’d like her in a room in five minutes.”
My body stiffened. I don’t do rooms, and I could tell he wasn’t going to like no. He released his grip from my ankle, and I looked to Frank to help me down.
“Jewel is available for a room, or Angie. This one doesn't do rooms.”
Frank grabbed my hand as I started to descend, but the man shot his hand out again and grabbed my ankle. “Surely you have a price. Every whore has her number.”
I saw Frank’s nostrils flare.
“You move your hand, or I remove it. She doesn't do rooms.”
“Is that so? Is there nothing I could offer that would make you change your mind?”
I took a deep breath, “I’m not for sale.”
His eyes glinted. I hated the way they looked at me, but he released my ankle. A moment later, I was on the ground. Frank positioned me in front of him as we walked to the back.
“I didn’t like that fuck. You alright?” he asked as I grabbed my robe.
I breathed in and then out. I needed to calm myself. I loathed when men touched me, and everything about that man made me fearful.
“I’m okay. I mean he didn’t hurt me, but he creeped me the fuck out.”
Dick stormed through the dressing room. A robe that was on the hook next to the doorway fell to the ground as he moved past. “Why the fuck are you in here? You should be on that table where I told your ass to be.”
Frank stepped slightly in front of me. “No fucking way. I shut that shit down. He was grabbing her and making her just stand there with her ass in the air.”
“Do you know who he is? If Enrico Santos tells you to stand there with your ass in the air, then you fucking do it. What you do not fucking do is tell that man no.”
“Boss,” Frank warned. That was too much and we all knew it, Dick just didn’t care.