“You sure know how to pour on the sugar before asking,” Abby muttered.
“James Rockhold is in the club tonight. He’s a very wealthy investment banker, a real VIP. I want him to have an outstanding first experience here so he’ll become a regular.”
“You want me to do his lap dance?”
“Yeah, sort of…”
“Sort of?”
“He wants a bed dance.”
“I don’t do bed dances.”
“But he only wants you, Nikki, please. I tried to talk him into one of the other girls, but he only wants you. Please, do this for me. It’s just like a lap dance.”
“It’s not, and you know it,” Abby snapped.
“I’ll owe you. Really owe you. I don’t want to turn him down. At the other clubs, the girls don’t get to decide what they will or won’t do.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. I’m just saying, I don’t want him to think Mickey’s is less of an experience than the other clubs.”
Abby sighed with frustration.
“This isn’t a fair thing to ask of me,” she said.
“I respect your boundaries, but I’m asking you to make an exception this one time. For me.”
“Fine,” Abby said, feeling defeated. “One song. That’s it.”
James Rockhold had slicked back silver hair and a fake tan. Abby put on her most seductive smile as she led him through the curtain of a private bed room. Though she had a sick rumble in her stomach, Mickey had always been good to her and she wanted to make him happy.
She knew the basics of a bed dance, but had never actually done one. When James took off his gray suit coat and tossed it on a chair, Abby felt like a prostitute for a sick second. She wanted to leave the room, but steeled herself instead. It was like a lap dance, she told herself. But the women who did bed dances didn’t tell their customers not to touch.
“Panties off,” he ordered, his face calculating. Abby refused to look at him as she complied.
As the music started, she cleared her mind and focused on the dance, reminding herself it was nothing more than rehearsed moves on her part. She ran her hair down her customer’s face, chest and legs, then straddled him and moved with the music.
When his hands locked around her hips, Abby froze momentarily, wanting to tell him to stop. She closed her eyes, pretending to be aroused, and lowered herself onto him. He reached around and unfastened her bra, throwing it to the floor and reaching for her breasts.
He wasted no time, grinding himself into her, not bothering with the illusion of a dance. Abby felt like she was suffocating, and hot tears sprang to her eyes. The feel of him against her reminded her of the dance she had done for Chris, only this was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. This wasn’t the least bit arousing -- it was disgusting.
His breathing was heavy, and Abby felt like the walls were closing in on her. As the strange man’s hand smacked her ass, she gasped at the immediate, scorching pain it caused.
“Fuck yes, you like that, don’t you?” he groaned, forcing her hips against him.
“No, no, stop,” Abby said, pushing away from him. She had to get out of the room and into a place where she could breathe. She couldn’t do this, not even for Mickey.
Her arm burned as his fingers locked around it, and Abby pulled desperately against him as she stumbled from the bed.
“Get your ass back in this bed,” he ordered. When Abby looked at him, she saw Tim’s face, and she knew she would vomit if she didn’t get out of the room.
“Joe!” she screamed, her voice strangled. The pain in her arm was searing, and she couldn’t stop her tears from falling.
It felt like forever, but she knew it only took Joe a few seconds to get to her. He rushed at the customer, forcing his hand to unclamp from her arm. She wrapped her hand around her hot, throbbing upper arm as she made her way across the club to get backstage.
“Nikki, what happened?” Mickey asked, sounding aggravated.
“Don’t talk to me. I’m leaving,” Abby said tearfully. She threw on a cotton dress, jeans and her warm wool coat, not bothering to find a new bra and panties. Though she had escaped the room, she still felt the choking terror that had gripped her there.
When she got into the car, she locked the doors and pulled out of the parking lot quickly. She tried to calm herself as she drove, but nothing seemed to work. She felt dirty and used, more so than she had ever felt at the club.
When Abby parked in the lot of the Benedict Emergency Room, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the safety of her locked car. She knew it was irrational, but she feared James Rockhold would be waiting for her outside the car. She reached for her phone and dialed Chris, hoping he would answer.