I laugh, a little watery.
His hands wrap around my face, thumbs brushing away my tears. “I hated you once. And needed you. And I almost died from not having you.”
“And now?”
“Now I feel all of those things. They don’t go away; they just add up until I can’t think of anything else. I don’t want to think of anything else. Lola. Hannah. You’re both of them. You’re fucking everything.”
My breath catches in my throat, and it’s a close thing that I don’t let out a sob right there on the sidewalk. He makes a rough sound and pulls me through the lobby. Only when the elevator doors close us in does he back me up against them. Only when the tears are flowing freely and his cock is hard as iron against me does he whisper, “I love you. Love you, love you.”
He hitches my legs around him, and I cling to him as he lifts me up. His cock is hot and hard against my clit, pushing and pushing and pushing in a rhythm just like fucking, so steady that even with our clothes between us I’m almost coming.
“Yes, baby,” he murmurs against my neck. “Come and gush on me. I want to see you fucking wet through your panties. I want to lick them like that.”
I shudder and rock my hips against him, but it’s hard to move. He’s thrusting against me so hard, almost fucking me into the steel doors. He’d be so deep inside me if we didn’t have clothes on. Instead I feel him throbbing and insistent, the pressure hard enough to hurt.
We move faster and faster, our panting the only sounds in the elevator.
It happens all at once. He bites down on the space where my neck meets my shoulder, the sting sharp enough to make me gasp. A ding sounds as the elevator arrives at our floor. Then I’m coming, shaking, shattering around him. The doors slide open behind me, and he holds me tight, my legs still wrapped around him as he carries me down the hall and brings me home.
* * *
“Told you this would happen,” Candy says.
Her legs swing from her perch on the stage. It adds to her innocent image, along with her blonde ponytails and off-the-shoulder Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. Of course her thigh-high lace patterned stockings and panty set give her the sexy edge that makes men salivate. For now the club is closed, the lights a little brighter on the brass fixtures and damask wallpaper. You could almost forget that this was a strip club if it weren’t for the shiny pole onstage.
“You were right,” I concede. “But I’m just going to get my GED and take a few classes. I don’t know if it will go anywhere. I might end up here dancing again in six months.”
“Ha! Blue would never let that happen.” Her eyes narrow at the far wall, as if she can see right through brick. As if she can punish him with just a look. “I’m the only one left.”
I snort. “There are twenty girls working here.”
She brushes them off with a wave of her hand, showing off pink nails with white polka dots. “They don’t understand me.”
“I hate to break this to you, but I don’t understand you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, but they don’t like me.”
“They’re just afraid of you because you perform weird voodoo on the men so they all love you. And because you have a thing with Ivan.”
“Why do people think that? He only talks to me because I’ve been working here a long time.”
I glance at the balcony. I can only see dark velvet curtains, but I thought I saw a shadow shift. Only one man would have access to be up there. One man with a very particular interest in the girl swinging her legs from the stage.
“For being smart about men,” I say, “you’re stupid about him.”
That makes her laugh. Her face lights up, and for that moment, she does look like a child. It’s disconcerting, because I know exactly where we are. No matter how pretty the building or how cultured its owner, the Grand is a dirty strip club. It strips all of us—taking our clothes and our dignity, turning men into base animals.
Her smile goes sly. “Maybe that’s true, but I know he gets off on scaring girls like me. And I refuse to be scared.”
I thought that way about the men who came here, but Blue tore me down with a single glance. He still tears me down with a glance, full of lust and longing. Full of love. “Be careful,” I tell her. “Men like that don’t give up easy.”
“No, they don’t,” she says, her voice wistful. “But I’ve already seen the biggest monster, the one at the center of the maze. There is nothing Ivan could do as bad as that.”
I shiver at the certainty in her voice. There are men that would take that as a challenge.
The balcony is dark and still—and empty. It’s just a feeling more than a visual cue. He’s gone now, but he was there before. Watching. Listening.
Waiting.