Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) by Pamela Samuels Young Page B
Authors: Pamela Samuels Young
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bare breasts pressed lightly against his shoulder.
“Not now,” Dre said, brushing her aside as his eyes rotated around the club. He headed toward one of the high tables on the far side of the room. Before he could even get settled on a stool, a woman with flowers tattooed around the areolas of her plump breasts made a beeline in his direction.
“Hey, cutie, how about a private dance?”
A lap dance was the fastest way for a stripper to make some real cash. In his younger days, he’d had a crush on a stripper named Gypsy at the Barbary Coast. He didn’t want to think about how much money he’d spent on lap dances with her.
Dre held up a hand waving the girl away. “Not now.”
“Okay, baby,” she said with a smile. “Maybe later.”
Dre needed a few more minutes to evaluate his surroundings. He was surprised that there was only one bouncer inside. There was probably another one on the second level of the club.
His eyes were drawn across the room to a pretty girl who had an innocence about her. She appeared slightly uncomfortable, dressed in nothing but high heels and the bottom of a string bikini. She was probably new, Dre thought. He would start with her. They made eye contact. She smiled. When Dre smiled back, she pranced over.
“How you doing tonight, handsome?”
Up close, the girl was stunning. Her long hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Unlike the first two girls who had approached him, she wasn’t wearing any makeup other than a bright red lipstick. He figured she was twenty-one, twenty-two, tops. He wanted to ask why she was doing this. Couldn’t a woman this hot find some dude to kick her down?
“I’m doing pretty good now that you’re here,” Dre replied. “What’s your name?”
“Katrina. What’s yours?”
“Andre.”
“Nice to meet you, Andre. Would you like a dance?”
“Absolutely.”
Katrina took his hand and led him upstairs to the lap dance booths.
They walked past a small stage where a woman was jiggling short tassels from her nipples. Katrina directed Dre to a row of club chairs separated by high dividers. A sheer curtain provided a view of the stage and a modicum of privacy.
“Have a seat, sweetie.”
Before Dre sat down, he made a show of taking out the stack of twenties he’d just withdrawn from the ATM at 7-Eleven.
“Looks like we’re going to have a good time tonight,” Katrina said, her eyes pinned on the roll of cash.
“How much?” Dre asked.
“Fifteen dollars a song,” Katrina said.
He peeled off a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her.
“You don’t seem too excited,” Katrina said coyly. “But don’t worry. I’m sure I can get you going.”
Dre wanted to tell the girl that she’d have to coat his Johnson in cement to get an erection out of him tonight.
She placed her fabulous rear end in his lap and started grinding against him in rhythm with the music. He placed a hand on her back, stopping her.
“Hold up,” he said. “I wanna talk.”
She glanced back at him with a baffled expression, then shrugged. “Whatever turns you on.”
“I need information,” Dre explained. “And I’m willing to pay for it.”
Chapter 14
Day Two: 12:45 a.m.
D re had definitely lucked up by selecting Katrina. She was new to the club and had no allegiance to The Shepherd or anybody else. Stripping was the fastest way for her to earn some tax-free cash to pay her nursing school tuition. She was more than willing to talk—as long as the money was flowing.
Six songs and a hundred and forty dollars later, Dre made his way back downstairs and found an empty seat at the bar. On both his right and left, half-naked girls were working hard to coax customers upstairs for a lap dance.
Dre shook his head as he listened to the women running their game. Based on what he was hearing, every dude in the place was handsome .
Katrina had confirmed that The Shepherd did indeed pimp girls. A couple of the strippers serviced athletes, celebrities and
“Not now,” Dre said, brushing her aside as his eyes rotated around the club. He headed toward one of the high tables on the far side of the room. Before he could even get settled on a stool, a woman with flowers tattooed around the areolas of her plump breasts made a beeline in his direction.
“Hey, cutie, how about a private dance?”
A lap dance was the fastest way for a stripper to make some real cash. In his younger days, he’d had a crush on a stripper named Gypsy at the Barbary Coast. He didn’t want to think about how much money he’d spent on lap dances with her.
Dre held up a hand waving the girl away. “Not now.”
“Okay, baby,” she said with a smile. “Maybe later.”
Dre needed a few more minutes to evaluate his surroundings. He was surprised that there was only one bouncer inside. There was probably another one on the second level of the club.
His eyes were drawn across the room to a pretty girl who had an innocence about her. She appeared slightly uncomfortable, dressed in nothing but high heels and the bottom of a string bikini. She was probably new, Dre thought. He would start with her. They made eye contact. She smiled. When Dre smiled back, she pranced over.
“How you doing tonight, handsome?”
Up close, the girl was stunning. Her long hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Unlike the first two girls who had approached him, she wasn’t wearing any makeup other than a bright red lipstick. He figured she was twenty-one, twenty-two, tops. He wanted to ask why she was doing this. Couldn’t a woman this hot find some dude to kick her down?
“I’m doing pretty good now that you’re here,” Dre replied. “What’s your name?”
“Katrina. What’s yours?”
“Andre.”
“Nice to meet you, Andre. Would you like a dance?”
“Absolutely.”
Katrina took his hand and led him upstairs to the lap dance booths.
They walked past a small stage where a woman was jiggling short tassels from her nipples. Katrina directed Dre to a row of club chairs separated by high dividers. A sheer curtain provided a view of the stage and a modicum of privacy.
“Have a seat, sweetie.”
Before Dre sat down, he made a show of taking out the stack of twenties he’d just withdrawn from the ATM at 7-Eleven.
“Looks like we’re going to have a good time tonight,” Katrina said, her eyes pinned on the roll of cash.
“How much?” Dre asked.
“Fifteen dollars a song,” Katrina said.
He peeled off a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her.
“You don’t seem too excited,” Katrina said coyly. “But don’t worry. I’m sure I can get you going.”
Dre wanted to tell the girl that she’d have to coat his Johnson in cement to get an erection out of him tonight.
She placed her fabulous rear end in his lap and started grinding against him in rhythm with the music. He placed a hand on her back, stopping her.
“Hold up,” he said. “I wanna talk.”
She glanced back at him with a baffled expression, then shrugged. “Whatever turns you on.”
“I need information,” Dre explained. “And I’m willing to pay for it.”
Chapter 14
Day Two: 12:45 a.m.
D re had definitely lucked up by selecting Katrina. She was new to the club and had no allegiance to The Shepherd or anybody else. Stripping was the fastest way for her to earn some tax-free cash to pay her nursing school tuition. She was more than willing to talk—as long as the money was flowing.
Six songs and a hundred and forty dollars later, Dre made his way back downstairs and found an empty seat at the bar. On both his right and left, half-naked girls were working hard to coax customers upstairs for a lap dance.
Dre shook his head as he listened to the women running their game. Based on what he was hearing, every dude in the place was handsome .
Katrina had confirmed that The Shepherd did indeed pimp girls. A couple of the strippers serviced athletes, celebrities and
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