of messages would be waiting for me. At least girls coming and going wasn’t exactly new to the clubs. Missing shifts wasn’t like me, but once news spread I had come down with a stomach bug, no one would think twice about it.
So long as I kept my mouth shut and my head down, no one would even think to ask me if I knew where Isabella was. I’d be able to say with some honesty I wasn’t sure; the desert was a big place, and I doubted I could find the cabin again even if I wanted to.
“Now this’ll be interesting. I bet we could rig something if the boss says you need some feathers.” Patricia tossed me my black stilettos. “Gold and blue glitter to go with your hair.”
The other girls gawked at us, and I ignored them, pulling out my glitter gloss and eyeshadow. I didn’t use much, just enough to add a bit of shine to my lids and lips. My wolf was puzzled by my preparations, and she simply observed, retreating until I was barely aware of her. “At least I’m not late. Almost was,” I muttered, shoving my makeup back in my bag before hanging it back on its hook.
“You still got twenty before your first scheduled run,” Patricia soothed, offering me a sheet of paper. “Enough time to rig up some feathers for that tight rump of yours.”
I twisted around and slapped her bare asscheek. “Keep it up, girl, and I’ll leave a handprint.”
“Oh, do it. That’ll be hot, and I’m on in five.”
Laughing, I did as she asked, shaking out my stinging palm afterwards. “The things I do for you.”
Danny slid down the metal handrail from the upstairs office, landing with a thunk of her heels. “Boss gave the approval to fit you in for the extra hours. Unfortunately, you’re to figure out a way to add feathers. The VIP specials requested feathers, sorry. Have your headdress with you?”
“I’m featherless,” I grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me we were showgirling tonight?”
“We’ll glue some strays to your ass and straps. It’ll be a hit,” Patricia said, grabbing one of the all-purpose feather headdresses from the rack. “This piece of shit needs to be retired anyway. We’ll pillage it. I have to get ready to dance. Can you help her, Danny?”
“Sure. I’m on after you, Jasmine, so rile them up for me. Boss says you’re to take twenty minutes, and we’ll be shifting the schedule.”
“Twenty?” I blurted. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”
“It gets better. He wants your twenty without you doing more than popping some cleavage. Have fun.”
I groaned. On a normal night, we did five to ten minute runs spaced out with breaks between to give the illusion more girls worked the club than actually did. A ten-minute pole dance under the club’s bright lights was tough enough, but by the time I finished twenty, I’d be soaked in sweat, gasping like a fish out of water, and ready to cry for mercy.
The only good thing about such a long shift would be the tips—and the chance to earn favor with Danny for priming the pumps of all of the men wanting to see more than shiny vinyl.
“I hope you’re going to tip me,” I muttered, grabbing the feather headdress and ripping out several of the large plumes. At least they matched my blue tips. “Tell me it gets better.”
“You wish. You’re going to have to hold off for the reveal for the VIPs. It’s a private party after ten, and you won’t strip until the last act. Boss says he hopes you’re wearing nice panties, because you’re not taking them off, either.”
“What kind of stripper doesn’t strip?” I demanded, ripping out a few more feathers from the old headdress. “I’m going to asphyxiate before eight. I’ll be dead by eleven, Danny.”
“Take it for the team,” she replied, smirking. “Make me a fortune tonight, and I’ll tip you really well.”
“Way to be a team player. That’s right. Throw me under the bus. I’ll remember that the next time you’re roped into a shit shift.”
“Shit shift, but a
So long as I kept my mouth shut and my head down, no one would even think to ask me if I knew where Isabella was. I’d be able to say with some honesty I wasn’t sure; the desert was a big place, and I doubted I could find the cabin again even if I wanted to.
“Now this’ll be interesting. I bet we could rig something if the boss says you need some feathers.” Patricia tossed me my black stilettos. “Gold and blue glitter to go with your hair.”
The other girls gawked at us, and I ignored them, pulling out my glitter gloss and eyeshadow. I didn’t use much, just enough to add a bit of shine to my lids and lips. My wolf was puzzled by my preparations, and she simply observed, retreating until I was barely aware of her. “At least I’m not late. Almost was,” I muttered, shoving my makeup back in my bag before hanging it back on its hook.
“You still got twenty before your first scheduled run,” Patricia soothed, offering me a sheet of paper. “Enough time to rig up some feathers for that tight rump of yours.”
I twisted around and slapped her bare asscheek. “Keep it up, girl, and I’ll leave a handprint.”
“Oh, do it. That’ll be hot, and I’m on in five.”
Laughing, I did as she asked, shaking out my stinging palm afterwards. “The things I do for you.”
Danny slid down the metal handrail from the upstairs office, landing with a thunk of her heels. “Boss gave the approval to fit you in for the extra hours. Unfortunately, you’re to figure out a way to add feathers. The VIP specials requested feathers, sorry. Have your headdress with you?”
“I’m featherless,” I grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me we were showgirling tonight?”
“We’ll glue some strays to your ass and straps. It’ll be a hit,” Patricia said, grabbing one of the all-purpose feather headdresses from the rack. “This piece of shit needs to be retired anyway. We’ll pillage it. I have to get ready to dance. Can you help her, Danny?”
“Sure. I’m on after you, Jasmine, so rile them up for me. Boss says you’re to take twenty minutes, and we’ll be shifting the schedule.”
“Twenty?” I blurted. “What the hell did I do to deserve that?”
“It gets better. He wants your twenty without you doing more than popping some cleavage. Have fun.”
I groaned. On a normal night, we did five to ten minute runs spaced out with breaks between to give the illusion more girls worked the club than actually did. A ten-minute pole dance under the club’s bright lights was tough enough, but by the time I finished twenty, I’d be soaked in sweat, gasping like a fish out of water, and ready to cry for mercy.
The only good thing about such a long shift would be the tips—and the chance to earn favor with Danny for priming the pumps of all of the men wanting to see more than shiny vinyl.
“I hope you’re going to tip me,” I muttered, grabbing the feather headdress and ripping out several of the large plumes. At least they matched my blue tips. “Tell me it gets better.”
“You wish. You’re going to have to hold off for the reveal for the VIPs. It’s a private party after ten, and you won’t strip until the last act. Boss says he hopes you’re wearing nice panties, because you’re not taking them off, either.”
“What kind of stripper doesn’t strip?” I demanded, ripping out a few more feathers from the old headdress. “I’m going to asphyxiate before eight. I’ll be dead by eleven, Danny.”
“Take it for the team,” she replied, smirking. “Make me a fortune tonight, and I’ll tip you really well.”
“Way to be a team player. That’s right. Throw me under the bus. I’ll remember that the next time you’re roped into a shit shift.”
“Shit shift, but a
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