“Okay,” I whisper, taking a step away. “Thanks again, Mike; see you tomorrow,” I say, leaving the office. I find Shannon back behind the bar; she gives me what is supposed to be a uniform, but feels like a few pieces of silk, and sends me on my way.

“Hey, girl,” Beth—better known as Bambi—says, walking into the dressing room. When I first met her, I was a little intimidated. She’s about five-nine, all legs, long brown hair, perfectly sun-kissed skin, and golden eyes. She came to Tennessee from Montana around a year ago, and has been working at Teasers ever since.

She taught me about waiting tables, pushing drinks, and smiling for a decent tip, if any. I asked her why she didn’t work the stage; I mean I know for a fact that she would make a lot of money up there. But she said she was way too clumsy, and that the name Bambi wasn’t given to her when she started working here. When she was little, her parents said that she could never control her legs, like they weren’t attached to her body, so they started calling her Bambi.

“Is it busy out there?” I ask, putting on light pink lip gloss.

“Not really. There’s a bachelor party coming in at eleven; they booked the private room. Rex said that you could help me with them. The tips should be good,” she says, walking to the lockers across the room. I look in the mirror at my reflection and forget who I am for a second.

My light green eyes look brighter with the smoky eye-shadow I have on. My long blonde hair cascades over my shoulders, down to just below my breasts, which are straining the top of the black corset. It cinches in my waist, causing my hips to flare at the bottom; the fishnet stockings and black silk panties make me look like I should be going to the Playboy Mansion. It took me a few days of walking around in high heels to get used to them, at least enough to feel like I wasn’t going to fall on my face every time I took a step.

It’s been three weeks since I started working here. The tips are awesome, the hours are okay, and having a bed to sleep in at night rocks. The only downfall is that I have been tired a lot. Working two jobs is not easy, especially when one of the jobs you’re working, no one can know about.

I met with Bill two days ago, and he gave me an update on my brother. He told me that he found out Tim had been in Alabama, but he’s moved on since then, and Bill has yet to track him down again. I was starting to feel like I should contact the police, but the thought of my brother in jail didn’t sit well with me.

“Okay, girl, I'm just going to change my shoes and we can go. Now, keep in mind that bachelor parties do tend to get a little crazy,” she says, stepping into a pair of platform stilettos.

“What do you mean by ‘crazy’?” I ask, feeling nervous. There’s been a few times while I’ve been working when a guy would get a little handsy; but the bouncers always made sure to cut in before it could get out of control.

“Well, they tend to drink a lot more, and a lot of times, that makes them dumber than normal.” I giggled. I couldn’t help it; Bambi was one-hundred-percent lesbian, and thought all men were stupid. At first, knowing that she was attracted to women made it a little uncomfortable; then I realized, like a heterosexual person, she has a type, and I was not it. She smiled and shook her head. “If you have a problem, just tell me, and I’ll step in.”

“I'm sure they won’t be that bad,” I say, wondering how many people said that as their final words.

Trevor

“Yeah.” I answer the phone, looking at the clock and seeing that it is just after twelve.

“Yo, T. You need to come to Teasers,” Cash says, and I sit up in bed.

“It’s after fucking midnight. I'm not getting out of bed to sit with you at a fucking strip club.”

“Trust me, T. See you soon,” he says, hanging up before I can tell him to fuck off.

“This better be good,” I grumble to the wall. Getting up, I pull on a pair of jeans and a tee, and head out to my truck. When I pull up to the front of the club, I notice that, even though it’s a Wednesday night, the lot is full of cars. I spot Cash standing by the door talking to one of the bouncers.

“Yo,” he greets in his normal tone. He looks around before he pulls me around the side of the building.

“What the fuck?” I ask, looking around and wondering if he’s in some kind of trouble.

“When you go in there, you need to play it cool, ok?” he says, and I notice he looks panicked.

“What’s going on?” I ask, becoming concerned.

“When I saw her, I found Mike and asked him what the fuck was going on? He told me that she needed the money, wouldn’t take it from him, and threatened to go to a different club if he didn’t give her a job.”

“At any point, are you going to tell me who the fuck you’re talking about, bro?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, trying not to reach out and shake him.

“Liz,” he says, throwing up his arms. “What other woman would I be talking about?”

“You’re telling me Liz is in there stripping?” I ask through clenched teeth, thinking of her in there. On stage. Half-naked. With men looking at her. Now I’m seeing red.

“This is your fucking fault, T!” Cash shouts, as he pokes me in the chest.

“You tell me, how’s this my fault?”

“When she came to Mike for the job, Mike asked her what you were going to think about this; she said that you don’t get a say in what she does.” Well that shit burned. She was right. Technically, I didn’t have a say in what she did; but she was mine, and I wasn’t sharing her with anyone.

“Look, all I'm saying is be cool when you go in there. Ed’s on the door tonight and said that Liz has been working a bachelor party.”

“Jesus, this shit just keeps getting better and better,” I mumble, running my hands over my head.

“Alright, I'm going to talk to Ed. You go in there and pull her aside; do not cause a scene.”

Liz

Oh lord, I think to myself, no money in the world is worth dealing with men like this. For the last three hours, I have been blocking hands right and left. I lost track of how many times I’ve told the guys that are included in the bachelor party “no touching”. I swear, the next time one of them grabs my ass, I’m going to kick them. “Can I get two more bottles, Rex?” I sigh, looking around the bar. I see Ed, the new bouncer, near the door. I squint my eyes a little, trying to see who he’s talking to. Damn! It looks like Cash, but that would be crazy; why would he be here? Stupid mascara. I blink a few times and still can’t see clearly.

“Cash,” I hear whined from behind me, and my heart climbs up my throat. I look over my shoulder to see Skittles running in the direction of the door.

“Oh my God!” I whisper, while ducking my head. I turn and start walking back towards the private room. I think I’m about to get away, but my luck crumbles around me when Skittles plows me over, her giant fake boobs in my face.

“Sorry,” she says in her fake, whiney voice. She’s lifted off before I can die of suffocation. Once I'm free, I roll to my stomach and start crawling on my hands and knees towards the private room doors, hoping that Cash is not anywhere near me. I make it halfway there, when I see a pair of brown work boots in front of me.

“Excuse me,” I say without looking up. I start to crawl around the owner of the boots, when they block my way again. I blow my hair out of my face, becoming frustrated by the person in front of me. Can’t they see I'm trying to get away? The person squats down, and I see denim-covered knees; then fingers are under my chin, lifting my face. “Crap,” I whisper, when I see Trevor’s brown eyes looking into mine.

“We need to talk.” He says quietly, and I can see by the look in his eyes that he’s pissed.

“No, we don’t need to talk,” I say, trying to stand. Who knew that getting up off the ground when you’re in high heels was so much work? I fall forward, my hands landing on his chest, and his going to my waist, steadying me. “Thanks,” I mumble. Not the first time wishing I knew magic, so I could cast a spell to stop whatever power it is that he has over me. I hate that my body craves his touch; I hate even more the fact that I crave it, knowing that he’s a big jerk. As I steady myself, I don’t look at his face again as I take a step around him.

“We need to talk,” he repeats, and I pretend that I don’t hear him. I continue walking towards the private room, where I know kick-ass Bambi, the man-hater is. “I'm not going to tell you again, baby,” he says, coming up behind me, pulling my back to his front.

“Let me go, Trevor.” I say quietly, trying not to cause a scene. He doesn’t say anything, but wraps his arms around my waist, walking me with him down the hall towards Mike’s office. I start to struggle to get away, when I see the door getting closer. I don’t want to talk to him, and when I had wanted to talk to him, he didn’t want to listen. I squirm and almost make it free of him, when he gets Mike’s office door open, shoves me inside, and slams the door behind him. “Great. Just great,” I grumble to myself, as if I had a chance of winning that battle. I put my hand on my hips, ready to give him some major attitude, when he takes my breath away.

“Jesus, you look beautiful!” he says, walking towards me with a look of hunger in his eyes. I start walking backwards, caught off guard.

“Um…thanks,” I say, looking over my shoulder and noticing that I'm heading towards the couch. Knowing that I don’t want to be near any horizontal surfaces and Trevor at the same time, I start making my way towards the desk, hoping that I can put it between us. “Stop,” I say, holding out my hand when I see how close he is to me. He stops, and I roll the desk chair between us to block his way. “Okay,” I breathe; he raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. I wish he wasn’t so good looking. His dark brown hair is cut low to his scalp; his brown eyes are made more beautiful with the long lashes that frame them. His jaw is square, and like always, it looks like he needs to shave; the dark growth around his mouth makes his full lips stand out even more.

He’s a lot taller than my five-five-and-a-half; even in the six-inch heels I'm wearing now, he towers over me.

His eyes rake over me, and his mouth goes into a flat line. “What are you doing, Liz?” I look around Mike’s office, avoiding his question. I notice that I'm not too far from the door; I might be able to make it there before him if I kick off my shoes. “Try it and I’ll spank you.” Okay, really? I’m ignoring that comment. I slide my foot out of one heel, but don’t put my foot down. I don’t want him to notice what I'm doing until the last possible second. “Talk to me,” he growls, and I glare at him. “You’re working at a fucking strip club for God’s sake; what the fuck is going on?” he roars, leaning towards me.

“It’s none of your business,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What? None of my business?” he asks.