One More Rule (Blindfold Club 2.50)

Bass thumped repeatedly from beyond the black door that led into the club. We stood in the anteroom while Dominic paid our group’s cover charge, and I pretended not to notice the bouncer’s lewd stare.

Dominic’s hand was abruptly on my ass, sliding over to rest on my opposite hip, and his scowl was directed at the bouncer. His possessiveness was showing in all its brilliant colors. I adjusted the paper bag in my arms, and the bottles clinked. “I can fuck you right here, if that will help.”

r /> Evie’s mouth fell open. “Are you talking to me?” With the blindfold still on, she couldn’t tell it was meant for Dominic.

“No, sorry.” I laughed and helped her toward the entrance. She had one hand on my shoulder and the other laced with Logan’s, but he was surprisingly quiet. Shit. “You know where we are, Logan?”

“The bottles gave it away.”

Chicago had an ordinance banning alcohol from being served at the same establishment offering nude entertainment. All of the strip clubs in Cook County were BYOB.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” I said. “Don’t ruin the surprise for Evie.”

The black door swung open and both the music and the roar of people got louder. I shuffled through, the future Mr. and Mrs. Stone trailing right behind. Dominic and I scanned the large, open room, and he pointed across the way.

“There.”

An open table waited near the stage. He hurried to claim it while I led the blind slowly through the crowded area, trying to keep Logan from tripping over chair legs. I ignored the looks of the other patrons who probably wondered what the hell we were doing.

“Can I take it off?” Logan said loudly over the music.

“I don’t think this is the right crowd for that.”

Did he just growl at me? “The blindfold, Payton.”

“Not yet.” I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him down into a chair, then helped Evie to hers.

Dominic twisted the cap off the whiskey. “Evie, you want champagne? Or rum and Coke?”

I reached for the unopened bottle. “It’s Evelyn, and she’ll take a rum and Diet Coke.”

Dominic smirked. “You’re so bossy.”

“You love it.” We happened to arrive at the perfect moment, right as the last performer was exiting, so we had a second of quiet. “Okay, blindfolds off. Time to look at some real women.”

The deejay’s voice blared over the music, announcing a new dancer coming to the stage as Evie pulled off her mask. I’d been nice enough to let her leave her crown in the back of the limo. Her eyes went totally white, they were that wide open. She gazed at the dim room, draped in garish red velvet curtains and mirrors, and the large stage with gold poles. Around us, the other club goers were curious.

Evie and I were the only dressed women in the packed audience.

The room felt smoky, although smoking wasn’t allowed and I didn’t see a fog machine running. It was a haze of sex and seediness. I hadn’t felt this kind of dirty on me since my blindfold club days, and I’d missed it, just a little.

“Holy shit, I’m in a strip club,” Evie said.

Dominic flagged over one of the servers. “You haven’t been before?”

She shook her head slowly, her gaze locked on the woman who sashayed over, a round tray tucked under one arm. The waitress’s other hand rested on her hip, barely covered by black hot pants. The piercing in her navel winked under a strobe light. Her hot pink halter top was more like a bra than a shirt, and the padding beneath pushed her boobs together, giving her a great deal of cleavage.

Her tips were probably killer; she was hot. I wondered if I should snap a picture and send it to Joseph. He’d trolled strip clubs in the past when he was first getting started, but he’d never found a girl who was seriously interested in the job, was drug-free, and reliable. Most of his newer girls came from referrals now.

“Hi!” the waitress said with a wide smile, her hand touching Dominic’s arm. “What can I get for you, hon?”

My annoyance flared, but I stayed quiet while he ordered the Diet Coke, plus some glasses and an ice bucket for the table. On stage, a lanky blonde in a black bra and fuchsia G-string was strutting in her stripper shoes. I admired the tattoos running along her rib cage. On the right girl and in the right setting, ink was hot.

“How does she dance in those?” Evie whispered to me.

The sole of the shoe was black, but the seven-inch heel and tall platform base were both a matching fuchsia, which glowed under the black light. The straps over the top of her foot were clear acrylic.

I shrugged at Evie’s question. “Practice.”