Bad Girls by Rebecca Chance Page A

all sunk their first. ‘Two!’ she called, and the second set of empty glasses clinked down on the bar.
    ‘Whoo!’ Skye wiped her mouth.‘Now, we have a glass of champagne.’ She looked seductively at Marvin.‘And then , you and me go have some fun, what do you say? You up for that, Marvin? You man enough to have some fun with me?’
    She picked up his tie and ran her fingers up and down it, slowly, mimicking what he’d like her to be doing to a part of his anatomy, her glossy mouth slightly open, her pink tongue sliding out to touch her upper lip briefly.
    Just briefly. If he came in his pants right now, that would turn off the money tap, which was the last thing she wanted.
    Marvin’s eyes were bugging out like a cartoon character’s.
    ‘You want a lap dance, don’t you, honey?’ she whispered to him.
    He was so paralysed with excitement he could barely nod in assent.
    Jada handed Skye two glasses of house champagne, and Marvin took one, staring, hypnotized, at Skye. He wore a wedding ring, natch. Pretty much every client at the Midnight Lounge was married. They came here to spend a fortune that they probably needed for the mortgage on their nice house in the suburbs on some fantasy girl with gold dust in her hair.
    Sorry, Mrs Marvin, Skye thought ruefully. Bet he’s got a photo of you in that wallet. But hey, maybe this works for you. Maybe this way he doesn’t bother you so much for stuff you don’t want to do.
    The bartender was swiping Marvin’s card for the drinks. Now, Skye, still caressing his tie, gave it a flirtatious little pull, enough to have him jumping off the bar stool and following her.
    ‘I think we want the private room, don’t we, Marvin honey?’ she cooed. ‘You’ve got a big –’ she winked – ‘ wallet you’re just dying to show me, haven’t you?’
    Fish in a barrel. Really.
    Jada had already attracted a little guy whose eyes were on a level with her tits, one of her regulars, who was staring up at her as worshipfully as if she were a dominatrix. She glanced at Skye over his head and shrugged. Skye knew exactly what Jada was saying. You had to know your market. Jada would be lap dancing Mini-Mes all evening. Her signature move was slapping their faces when they were all worked up. They begged for it sometimes, Jada had told her.
    Skye weaved her way across the club floor, glass of champagne in one hand, Marvin’s tie in the other. She picked a route between the tables, showing herself off to maximum effect. One of the Midnight Lounge’s top pole dancers, Oksana, was wreathing herself round the central pole, and as Skye passed half the guys at least turned away from Oksana’s contortions to watch Skye’s cute little ass wiggle its way past them. Skye cast coy, eyes-up-under-lashes glances at as many as she could. Partly because she was touting for business, partly just to get Oksana pissy: there was no love lost between them.
    The look Oksana shot Skye dripped poison. Which is rich, considering the shit she’s tried to pull on me in her time! Skye thought crossly.
    Hair bleached so blonde it was like straw, skin tanned satsuma orange, everything about Oksana was fake, from her stick-on nails to her pencilled-in brows to her coloured lenses. She’d tread over her mother’s dead body to beat another girl to a fifty-buck note.
    Screw her. By the time Skye had navigated between the smoked-glass tables, every man who gawked at her wished devoutly that they were in Marvin’s shoes. Skye practically never liked the guys she danced for, but it was still a major turn-on to know that she was desired so much that men would gasp and groan as she walked by.
    Like you said, Mom . I’ll worry when they stop leching after me.
    ‘Private dance, DeVaughan,’ she cooed at the big bouncer, who was posted at the door to the back room.
    ‘No probs, babe,’ he said, holding open the door and looking significantly at Marvin, who was so overcome by excitement that it took him much longer