“Gushy.”
“I’m just expressing gratitude,” I pointed out.
“Expressed. Now get your ass in there so no one wonders where the fuck you are,” he returned.
“Bossy badass,” I muttered, moving through the door.
“Ally?” he called and I turned back. “You’re bein’ a soft, gushy chick. But you’re also welcome.”
I watched him grin huge.
Then I watched the door close.
And then I thought about how Liam Edward Clark was missing out.
Huge.
I shook off this thought and went to the dancers’ dressing room. I bided my time, shooting the shit with Lottie until the opportunity came about five minutes before I went on again. I gave Lottie a look, she took off mumbling about needing the bathroom and I moved to JoJo, who’d come in for a break and stripper makeup refresh (a hefty undertaking, trust me).
I moved to her, and without a lot of time before I was due onstage, I had to get my message across and fast.
So I stood behind her and looked in her eyes in the mirror. “Hey.”
“Hey, Ally,” she replied on a smile that wasn’t quite real. But she tried, I could see. “You’re killing. After that big thing last night, the girls and me watched your next dance. You rock.”
“Thanks, babe,” I replied.
“You gotta show me how to do that pole flip,” she said.
“How’s tomorrow before shift change?” I asked.
“Works for me,” she went back to her blusher. “Tips went wild after you and Lottie left the stage.” Another smile to me, this one making the back of my neck prickle because it was melancholy. Possibly because she just handed her tips to Gibbons, or knew she’d be handing them to Steiner. “Thanks for that.”
“No probs,” I replied.
She again turned her attention to her blusher.
“JoJo?” I called. Her eyes came to mine in the mirror, her brows went up and my voice dropped low. “No matter what it is, you put your faith in the right person, they can move in and work it out. You with me?”
She was with me. She’d frozen and looked utterly freaked.
“Just take that in,” I whispered. “You don’t have to do anything. Just take it in. Yeah?”
She nodded slowly.
I smiled at her and moved away, hoping she’d more than take it in.
Then I moved into the hall because it was time to strip.
* * * * *
The rendezvous point for our late, late night activities was Tex’s house.
After finishing my last set, Ren followed me home so we could drop his Jag. We were taking my car, because in Tex’s ‘hood where tweakers were abundant, Jags were like shining beacons calling all to commit mayhem.
When he came to my ‘stang, he opened my door and leaned in. It was then I saw the look in his eyes, which meant I was hoping this business would be done, and quick, so we could get back home and fuck each other’s brains out.
In other words, one could just say that Ren liked to watch me take my clothes off while dancing. He might prefer it if I was a private dancer, but he still liked getting it as it came.
However, once positioned in my door, he proceeded to boss me with, “Get out, babe. I’m drivin’.”
My reply was, “It’s my car, Ren.”
Which got me a, “Yeah. I know. And I’m drivin’ it.”
Thus commenced a Rock Chick/Macho Badass exchange of words that got mildly heated and lasted ten minutes before Ren leaned further in, undid my seatbelt, hauled me to my feet, shoved me against the car and laid a hot and heavy one on me.
While I was recovering, he pushed me aside, folded behind the wheel and didn’t delay in adjusting the seat.
I allowed myself five seconds to fume. Then, as I couldn’t execute the same maneuver, I stomped to my side and angled in.
But once in, I declared immediately, “That lost you head for a week.”
“Bullshit, baby. I get you breathy and tell you I want your mouth, you’ll suck my cock deep so fast I won’t be able to blink.”
His words made me want to go down on him right there.
I didn’t give indication of that.
