Cut Wide Open
Page 10
“You gotta get your head on straight. Saw you fight at a barn in Hinkley, you were a lot quicker then.”
“Fuck off,” I slurred, the room spinning overhead.
He ignored me and made sure I wasn’t going to topple over. I don’t know what it was that he saw in me that made him take the time, but he threw me in a motel room for days until I was finally dry and all that booze was out of my system. During withdrawal, I went between wanting to kill him and begging him for a drink. In the end, I was glad for his help.
To this day, I watched how much I drank, afraid that I’d fall over the edge.
Shane Dunaway became a brother. A real one. Not like the fake bond that Hades Runners promised me. We rode when we wanted and we fought when we wanted, and eventually our brotherhood of two became four, and then it was eight. Six years later, we started a club that grew to be one of the biggest clubs in all of Ohio. We’d run into Hades Runners and there was always a fight. They were my enemies, so they were my brothers’ enemies. That’s how we rolled. You messed with one of us, you took on all of us.
I never did see my Ma again, as far as I was concerned she was dead to me.
I kept my eyes open for Mouse, but she was a ghost. My life had hardened and I was no longer delusional enough to think that I’d actually see her again. That flicker of hope had long since burned out.
Chapter Three
Charlie, Twenty-Four years old
The lights dimmed as I took my spot center stage. For the next four minutes, I was not a quiet woman. I was a woman with a purpose. I was strong and sexy. I didn’t feel like this on the inside, but up here, I was fierce. I’d been doing this long enough now that my reputation not only made me money, but it drew the crowds. The boom boom boom of the baseline told me I was close to my cue. I pointed my five-inch stiletto. My calf arched. My hips tilted forward and my ass pushed out. The pole in front of me was cold in my grip. I threw my head forward. My long, sleek, dark trusses covered my face. The moment the next thump hit, the lights flashed on me and I thrust my head backward ignoring the cheers, hoots, and hollers. My hair whipped over my head as I began to move. I swayed my hips back and forth. This was me at least four nights a week. Slowly and seductively, I moved around the pole not giving them too much yet. The round curve of my fleshy ass just barely peeked out from under the small, black skirt. I gave them what they wanted, and they were hungry tonight. So many eyes on me. I turned on the pole, put it to my back, lowered myself slowly and flashed open my legs.
A tease.
I lifted my hands overhead and gripped. With my legs spread, hand over hand, I lifted my entire body higher until I was near the top of the pole where I hooked one leg around the metal and twisted my body. Around and around I went until I neared the bottom of the pole where I arched backward, put my palms to the ground, and flipped my legs off of the pole, all while letting the crowd glimpse the small black fabric between my legs.
I raised up to my knees and undid the first button on my skirt and then another. It was all about anticipation. Boom. Boom. I made them wait two beats before I undid the last of the buttons. As my skirt fell away, the small black triangle revealed almost everything. I crawled to the edge of the stage and collected money. It disappeared in between my breasts and into the string of my thong until I could discreetly drop it into my black satchel I left on stage.
I seductively climbed the pole again, swiveled then turned on it until my muscles burned, and I was upside down. The men were absolutely wild as I righted myself and flung my hair as part of the dance. When every eye was completely transfixed, I went for it. I unzipped the small fabric that covered my breasts. Their fullness, strangled by the top, finally sprang free. Two very small, blue stars covered my nipples, but who was I kidding? The stickers were a requirement, but they did nothing to really hide the fact that I was practically nude.
Green littered the stage. Frank, one of the bouncers, collected my loot while all eyes were on my dance. No one noticed him. This was my show, and he was invisible. I was the only thing they could see. And boy, did I let them see. Modesty was something I gave up a long time ago. Once, I cared about hiding, but you do what you need to do to survive, and then you get on with owning it.
And I owned this fucking stage.
I cupped my breast and gyrated my hips against the stage and I gave these men their fantasy. They wanted to pretend they knew what it was like to be inside of me so, I filled their imagination. Their spank banks would be well fueled. There was power in this seduction. I threw my head back as I pumped my hips against the ground and just as it looked like I was going to come, the lights went dark.
“Damn, girl! I might need to finish myself off after that one.” Marjorie smacked my ass as she sauntered past me on my way to the dressing area. I shook my head as her wild red hair flashed one last time before she turned the corner.
Grabbing my floral printed, Asian style robe from the hook, I quickly slipped it on, then downed a bottle of water, and chased it with a few Excedrin. My head was killing me, and I didn't really want to go out on the floor, but I knew that I didn't have much choice. I slipped on a pair of black Lycra shorts that the bottom of my ass hung out of and a silver bikini top with long dangly silver tassels that caught the lights and reflected them, like my tits were a goddamn disco ball.
“Char,” Dick the owner of The Select Club, whose name was, in fact, Dick-- which was fitting because he was actually a dick, walked into the dressing room. “Got a request for you on table five.” I gave him an irritated look. I hated getting on tables after my dance. They were always too handsy and still way too turned on. The girls’ loved it because they made money, but I did well on stage where I was far away from grabby hands. What I did not do well with was when they pawed me. Dick knew this. He caught my glare and looked at me sternly. “I let you get away with a lot, Char, because you shake your tits like no other, but you need to get your ass out there. Table number five. No excuses. They requested you specifically, and these are not men you fuck around with.”
I nodded because he was right. He usually was good about not making me do shit I didn't want to do, but occasionally he had to remind me of that, and I knew that even though Dick was a dick, he wouldn’t be making me unless it was important. So I strapped on a pair of heels that were an inch shorter than the stilettos I wore on stage and followed Dick out. He moved into the shadows, but I trusted he’d be close by.
“Fuck off,” I slurred, the room spinning overhead.
He ignored me and made sure I wasn’t going to topple over. I don’t know what it was that he saw in me that made him take the time, but he threw me in a motel room for days until I was finally dry and all that booze was out of my system. During withdrawal, I went between wanting to kill him and begging him for a drink. In the end, I was glad for his help.
To this day, I watched how much I drank, afraid that I’d fall over the edge.
Shane Dunaway became a brother. A real one. Not like the fake bond that Hades Runners promised me. We rode when we wanted and we fought when we wanted, and eventually our brotherhood of two became four, and then it was eight. Six years later, we started a club that grew to be one of the biggest clubs in all of Ohio. We’d run into Hades Runners and there was always a fight. They were my enemies, so they were my brothers’ enemies. That’s how we rolled. You messed with one of us, you took on all of us.
I never did see my Ma again, as far as I was concerned she was dead to me.
I kept my eyes open for Mouse, but she was a ghost. My life had hardened and I was no longer delusional enough to think that I’d actually see her again. That flicker of hope had long since burned out.
Chapter Three
Charlie, Twenty-Four years old
The lights dimmed as I took my spot center stage. For the next four minutes, I was not a quiet woman. I was a woman with a purpose. I was strong and sexy. I didn’t feel like this on the inside, but up here, I was fierce. I’d been doing this long enough now that my reputation not only made me money, but it drew the crowds. The boom boom boom of the baseline told me I was close to my cue. I pointed my five-inch stiletto. My calf arched. My hips tilted forward and my ass pushed out. The pole in front of me was cold in my grip. I threw my head forward. My long, sleek, dark trusses covered my face. The moment the next thump hit, the lights flashed on me and I thrust my head backward ignoring the cheers, hoots, and hollers. My hair whipped over my head as I began to move. I swayed my hips back and forth. This was me at least four nights a week. Slowly and seductively, I moved around the pole not giving them too much yet. The round curve of my fleshy ass just barely peeked out from under the small, black skirt. I gave them what they wanted, and they were hungry tonight. So many eyes on me. I turned on the pole, put it to my back, lowered myself slowly and flashed open my legs.
A tease.
I lifted my hands overhead and gripped. With my legs spread, hand over hand, I lifted my entire body higher until I was near the top of the pole where I hooked one leg around the metal and twisted my body. Around and around I went until I neared the bottom of the pole where I arched backward, put my palms to the ground, and flipped my legs off of the pole, all while letting the crowd glimpse the small black fabric between my legs.
I raised up to my knees and undid the first button on my skirt and then another. It was all about anticipation. Boom. Boom. I made them wait two beats before I undid the last of the buttons. As my skirt fell away, the small black triangle revealed almost everything. I crawled to the edge of the stage and collected money. It disappeared in between my breasts and into the string of my thong until I could discreetly drop it into my black satchel I left on stage.
I seductively climbed the pole again, swiveled then turned on it until my muscles burned, and I was upside down. The men were absolutely wild as I righted myself and flung my hair as part of the dance. When every eye was completely transfixed, I went for it. I unzipped the small fabric that covered my breasts. Their fullness, strangled by the top, finally sprang free. Two very small, blue stars covered my nipples, but who was I kidding? The stickers were a requirement, but they did nothing to really hide the fact that I was practically nude.
Green littered the stage. Frank, one of the bouncers, collected my loot while all eyes were on my dance. No one noticed him. This was my show, and he was invisible. I was the only thing they could see. And boy, did I let them see. Modesty was something I gave up a long time ago. Once, I cared about hiding, but you do what you need to do to survive, and then you get on with owning it.
And I owned this fucking stage.
I cupped my breast and gyrated my hips against the stage and I gave these men their fantasy. They wanted to pretend they knew what it was like to be inside of me so, I filled their imagination. Their spank banks would be well fueled. There was power in this seduction. I threw my head back as I pumped my hips against the ground and just as it looked like I was going to come, the lights went dark.
“Damn, girl! I might need to finish myself off after that one.” Marjorie smacked my ass as she sauntered past me on my way to the dressing area. I shook my head as her wild red hair flashed one last time before she turned the corner.
Grabbing my floral printed, Asian style robe from the hook, I quickly slipped it on, then downed a bottle of water, and chased it with a few Excedrin. My head was killing me, and I didn't really want to go out on the floor, but I knew that I didn't have much choice. I slipped on a pair of black Lycra shorts that the bottom of my ass hung out of and a silver bikini top with long dangly silver tassels that caught the lights and reflected them, like my tits were a goddamn disco ball.
“Char,” Dick the owner of The Select Club, whose name was, in fact, Dick-- which was fitting because he was actually a dick, walked into the dressing room. “Got a request for you on table five.” I gave him an irritated look. I hated getting on tables after my dance. They were always too handsy and still way too turned on. The girls’ loved it because they made money, but I did well on stage where I was far away from grabby hands. What I did not do well with was when they pawed me. Dick knew this. He caught my glare and looked at me sternly. “I let you get away with a lot, Char, because you shake your tits like no other, but you need to get your ass out there. Table number five. No excuses. They requested you specifically, and these are not men you fuck around with.”
I nodded because he was right. He usually was good about not making me do shit I didn't want to do, but occasionally he had to remind me of that, and I knew that even though Dick was a dick, he wouldn’t be making me unless it was important. So I strapped on a pair of heels that were an inch shorter than the stilettos I wore on stage and followed Dick out. He moved into the shadows, but I trusted he’d be close by.
