Take the Heat

“Your sister’s gonna be dancing here for the foreseeable future, so you better get used to the idea.”

“If I can give you cash, how much will you bring the total down?” said Cassandra.

“Nothing. No discount. Just not so many hours on the pole.”

Cassandra opened her bag and drew out a brown envelope.

“Here’s seven thousand dollars, Mr. Moore. I’m taking Melly away—she needs rehab. When we come back, I’ll work off the other fourteen thousand if you’ll promise to leave her alone.”

“You ever danced?”

“How hard can it be?”

Moore’s laughter rang around the small room.

“Show me,” he said.

Cassandra shook her head. “I’ll learn how to do it while Melly’s in rehab.”

Suddenly Moore was on his feet and coming round the desk toward her.

“I’m not running a fucking charity here for little junkies and their do-good sisters.”

He stood above her, dark and menacing, with fiery eyes and clenched fists. She stared at him defiantly, clamping her jaw tight shut in denial of the fear welling in her gut.

“You’re no dancer,” he said. But he took the brown envelope from her hand and tossed it onto the desk behind him.

Cassandra let out a breath as the tension left her muscles. But his next words hit her like a punch in the guts.

“Sure you can pay off the rest of Melly’s debt. On your back.”

“You mean…”

He leaned forward and cut off the rest of her words by placing his mouth over hers. It might have been a kiss by name but not by intent. He pushed his tongue between her lips and plundered, rasping her chin with his stubble and not caring when his teeth clashed with hers. She felt crushed against the back of the chair, and she struggled to get a breath. His hands came to rest on her shoulders and then slid down to pin her upper arms to her sides.

“Have you ever slept with a man for money?” he whispered in her ear.

She turned her head away from him, as far round as she was able.

“Never. I’m not a whore.” She had to breathe, and this close, Moore smelled good. Too good.

“Would you become one to save your precious sister?”

She remained silent, trapped in the chair as he loomed over her.

“Would you?” he prompted.

She thought of Melly and how much she’d changed. She gave a barely perceptible nod of her head. Moore stepped back, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

“Yes,” she whispered. She knew she could do anything except look into Melly’s sad, wounded eyes and tell her she had to come back to this place and dance the pole.

Moore returned to the far side of his desk and sat down.

“Good,” he said.

What would they be like? The men she would have to sleep with?

“This is how it’s gonna work…what’s your name?”