His Stripper (Dance For Me)

“So, since I did well this week, maybe I can get one of your girls to give me a lap dance on the house?” And that’s why I don’t like this motherfucker. Always asking me for shit.

Nevertheless, keeping employees happy is good for business, and a lap dance won’t cost me anything. “Sure, let me know which girl, and I’ll send her back to a private room.”

“How about your new hostess? I’d like to see those tits up close.”

Restraint has never been my strong suit, and right now, it takes every ounce of the little bit I do possess not to strangle Randy where he sits.

“She’s off-limits,” I grit through clenched teeth, but Randy keeps pushing, like the idiot he is.

“I won’t tell anyone. I just want to get my hands on Hazel for a dance—”

As soon as Hazel’s name comes out of his filthy mouth, I see red. I’m out of my chair and across the desk in a split second. Randy tries to stand, but I’m already on him, pounding my fists into his shocked face.

“You don’t say her fucking name!” I spit in his face between punches.

His feeble attempts to protect himself are laughable, and before I know it, he is on the ground and curled up like a fucking baby. Worthless piece of shit.

Somehow, I manage to stop my attack even though every fiber in my body tells me to end him. The only thing that makes me stop is knowing Ace would never let me hear the end of it. Too many people saw Randy walk in. He needs to walk out of here one way or the other.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He keeps apologizing, but that shit falls on deaf ears. I don’t give a shit about his apologies.

“Get up, asshole.”

He scrambles to his feet, covering the side of his face with one hand. His nose is bloody and probably broken, his lip is split, and his eyes are starting to swell up.

“I’m sorry, Myles. I don’t want any trouble with you guys…”

“Save it, and get out of my office. Go out the back door, and if I ever hear you say her name again, I will gut you and feed your own intestine to you.” Even with his face beaten and bruised, I can see the terror written all over it, and I seriously wonder if he is about to piss himself in my office. “Get out!”

“I will… I mean… I will get out, but I won’t say her name. I-I won’t ever do it a-again, I swear,” he stutters and scurries away from me with his hands up in surrender. Not wanting to turn his back to me, he walks backward to the door, almost stumbling over his own feet twice.

I watch him leave and follow him downstairs to make sure he isn’t stupid enough to go back through the lobby. Lucky for him, he listens to me and takes the back door. I’m almost disappointed because I would have had another reason to let out some anger on his face if I had caught him.

Looking down at my hands, I find my knuckles bloody and swollen. They don’t hurt yet, but I know they will later. I will enjoy that pain because it will be a reminder of what I did to his face.

When I’m sure the fucker is gone, I shove my hands in my pockets and walk through the main room like nothing happened. Holly passes by me, giving me a tight smile. I would ask her what’s wrong, but the need to see Hazel is pulling me to the lobby like an invincible force. Holly can wait.

I push the heavy double doors open into the front room. My gaze swings to the desk Hazel should be standing behind, but I find it empty. Confused, I walk to the front door and open it. Alex is standing next to it, his arms folded over his chest.

“Hey, have you seen Hazel?”

“No, boss. She hasn’t been out here.”

“All right, maybe she just took a break,” I say more to myself as I head back inside, letting the door fall shut behind me. I ignore the dreadful feeling that something is wrong and tell myself she is fine. She probably just had to go pee or got stuck talking to one of the girls.

I speed walk through the club, not caring who sees my busted-up hands. My eyes bounce from person to person, searching for Hazel in a room full of people. When I don’t find her in here, I try the bathroom next. Samantha is the only one inside, fixing her hair in the mirror.

“What’s up?” she asks, not the least bit concerned that I’m in the women’s bathroom. It’s not like I haven’t seen each of the girls who work here naked.