Chapter One
Abigail cringed as her hands met the cool metal. She did her best not to look out at the crowd of men, holding dollars in their hands, waiting for that moment they got a shot at the parts she’d been raised to hide.
With her fingers wrapped lightly on the pole, Abigail walked a full circle around it before bending over, her legs straight, giving the greedy gazes a sight of her bottom clad in a dark green g-string. The men hollered and groaned in pleasure, but she knew what she had to do next—wrap her legs around the object of her income and spin. Not many of the women here could do it as well as her, so whenever she came out here, the boss wanted her to perform on it. Though, she supposed it was better than the women who grinded their bodies on the floor.
As her legs wrapped around the object the men so desired to see her on, she closed her eyes and did what she always did while she performed: imagined she was on a tropical island, with a martini in hand, and life was perfect.
By the time her performance was over, she walked topless toward the stage curtain, her tiny g-string filled with dollars. She entered the dressing room and stood in the corner, pulling each of the grubby bills from her body, flattening them in her palm. She laid the pile on her dressing table.
“Great performance,” Jenna, one of the other dancers said as she put on the finishing touches of her make-up.
“Thanks.” It wasn’t hard to have a great performance with horny men who simply wanted to see boobs.
“Don’t be so down. You’re a natural out there.”
Abigail laughed. She couldn’t help it. Oh, the joys of knowing she was a natural stripper. Just what every girl wanted to be raised to do. “The crowd’s really wanting a show tonight. The men I just danced for booed when it took me too long to get my bra off. They’re greedy this evening. But whoever they are, they’re big spenders.”
“Good. I’m up next.” Jenna shook her big round ass, which she was known for, and walked toward the stage door.
Abigail finished counting her money and placed it in her wallet. She pulled out her hand sanitizer. Once she felt somewhat sterile, she went to the bathroom to put on clothes that covered her from head to toe. She always slipped into a pair of sweatpants and hoodie. The soft cotton made her feel safe and hid much of her curves.
Once her station was cleaned up, she grabbed her purse and decided to get the hell out of this place. The exit door was within sight, but then her boss called her name.
“Abby, there’s a man out front requesting you.”
“But, sir, I’m off, remember? My babysitter can’t stay late.”
Mr. Regan smirked. “As much as it shames me to say this, I don’t think he’s looking for a lap dance or any other special treat. He says he knows you and wants to talk to you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Did he give his name?”
“Just get out there. He’s in room one. He paid for the time, thankfully, so just in case, go in your stage outfit.” He turned and left.
Abigail groaned and then went back to her dressing table. She locked her bag up in her drawer after she stripped out of the comfortable sweats she’d had on. The dancers were never allowed to go out front in regular clothes.
After she gazed at herself in the mirror for a few moments and fluffed her blond curls, she knew she couldn’t put off her visitor any longer. As she walked through the club to the private rooms, she saw Jenna on stage, shaking her ass, the men practically drooling over her. She noted Mr. Regan in a corner talking to a few of the regulars.
She stood in front of room one, took a deep breath, and lightly knocked before opening the door. Her nerves were on edge as she wondered who waited inside. The room was dimly lit with yet another pole in the middle for those customers who wanted private shows. The man’s head was slightly turned to where she couldn’t see who it was. But something in her gut told her she knew him. While she didn’t recognize him from this angle, she had a feeling things were about to change. Abigail wasn’t really sure what to say, so she leaned against the pole and asked in a sultry tone, “What can I do for you?”
He turned and looked at her. Abigail froze. Her mouth dropped open. She knew exactly who it was. She hadn’t seen him in years and he was slightly older now. But it was a face she’d recognize anywhere. In fact, she looked at a replica of it almost every day.
“Josh.” It came out an almost whisper.
He nodded. His expression was cold, not like the last time she’d seen him over four years ago. His hair was a light brown with a few streaks of gray and his dark green eyes bore into her.
“What are you doing here? Did you come looking for me?” she asked, needing to know if his being here was a mere coincidence.