Page 13 of Blood Revealed

“I’ll get ’em,” he says to the snickers and whispers of the other men.

“You hear that, Carv? He’ll get them,” Sneak says.

“Whipped already,” Butch throws in, and that gets him a gut punch from Blood. I throw my head back to laugh.

After dinner, Blood actually helps me clean up the mess. A man who cleans? Who would’ve thought it possible? Then, with full bellies, we get lazy and don’t actually make it out to the club. Throwing back beers and shooting the shit with the other brothers late into the night.

My first night in the clubhouse went well. Blood ended up crashing with me in my room, though we only slept. Then this morning I woke up and made oatmeal for the brothers, took a shower and got ready for the day.

No one shows to the club until noon so we wait and I do a little cleaning before we take his truck down to the club. It’s colder up here than in Houston. I’m going to need cold weather gear, like a coat and gloves. As long as we have the heater in the truck, I’m fine for now.

Blood points out the streets as we take them, helping me learn my new surroundings. We cross a bridge spanning the Ohio River entering a much seedier side of town to get to the club. It’s no wonder the strip club is here with the more sin-related activities like bars and massage parlors lining the streets, and I think I saw a street walker.

When we turn into the lot at the club it looks exactly like what I expect a strip club to look like. Lights and glitter advertising SKINZ: The Hottest Babes Around. That’s a nice touch, the glitter. Blood runs around to help me out of the truck and walks me inside the place with his hand tucked to the small of my back. I internally swoon.Not good, Hannah.

My eyes need a minute to adjust to the darkened space. There’s a stage with a pole. A tacky, silver glitter curtain behind the pole. The waitresses walk around with these tiny, black, strapless things that are supposed to be tops but look more like bands stretched around their boobs barely wide enough to cover their nipples. The bands say SKINZ across the front in the same glittering silver of the curtain and the sign outside. Each of them wears a black micro-miniskirt and mile-high red hooker heels. That’s what Brinley and I always called them, anyway.

The heels and their bright red lipstick are the only color aside from black and silver glitter. There’s one girl on the stage dancing. She’s clearly had implants and a body most women would sign a pact with the devil to have. Her thong is purple and lacy, and her heels match her thong. But, Jesus, she swings herself around the pole with more ease and grace than any person has the right to. If I do this, I need to copy her.

A short, rounded man wearing a wife beater and jeans approaches Blood and me with his hand held out for Blood to shake. “What do we have here?” he asks, now shaking Blood’s hand.

“This is Hannah. She’s thinking about applying.”

The man drops Blood’s hand to look me over. He plumps my boobs—he actually plumps my boobs! What in the hell? Then he smooths his hand down over my butt. “She’s nice,” he says. “Young. They like ’em young.”

Uh—gross. But he’s right. Guys who come to a place like this like women who look young.

“Can she dance?” he asks.

“I—” I start to tell him I’m not sure when he sits in the closest chair to him. It groans under his weight, and he tugs me onto his lap. “Show me your moves, girlie. Get me hard.”

What?Now?

My eyes begin to water as I stand, straddling the man the best I can and give him what I think is an acceptable lap dance—right there in front of Blood. I close my eyes, picturing the movies I’ve seen over the years likeBurlesqueandStriptease, and pull the moves from my memory of what those women did.

When I finish the man is sporting a raging hardon but says, “She’ll have to be trained up a bit, but the men’ll like her. Great tits. Go to the back office. Shelly’ll sort you out.” He points to the direction of the back office.

I guess I’m going to be a dancer at SKINZ. Blood stays behind with the man. That’s fine. I can’t look at him right now.

Shelly waves me in when I knock once on the partially open door and she doesn’t look anything like I’d expect her to look. For starters, she stands several inches taller than me and I’m not exactly short. She wears her hair big, dark and curly. Judging by her black halter with SKINZ written across the boobs and her jeans, the dress code for office workers must be casual. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s in her early thirties. Maybe she used to dance here, maybe not, but I still consider her hot.

“I’m supposed to get sorted out,” I say.

“You’re young,” she replies. “The men’ll eat you up.” She moves through files on the desk until she finds an application. I fill out my name, but the only thing I know to put on the address is Brimstone Lords Compound, Thornbriar, Kentucky.

“You’re with the Lords?” she asks, reading over my shoulder.

“Yeah. Blood brought me here. We’re friends.”

“Bloodhound? Now that’s one hot motherfucker. If he hasn’t yet, next time you’re in bed, ask him to do the twist. It’ll blow your ever-loving mind. I still haven’t recovered and I haven’t been with him in months.”

She’s slept with Blood? This statuesque, brunette beauty? She’s like the perfect woman. I deflate a little. What he must have thought watching me try to give a lap dance when he’s been with this chick.

I have an out of town I.D., no phone and hardly an appropriate address. At least I know my social security number. When I finish filling out what I can of the application, she looks at all the blank spots and says, “Don’t worry. You can fill the rest in as they come. You start training tomorrow. Be here by two. Amethyst will work with you. She’s the best with the new girls.”

“Who’s on the stage right now?” I ask. Because she’s the one with the moves.

“Dainty Rae. She won’t talk to you. She barely talks to the girls that have been here for a year or more. Trust me, Amethyst will be a good fit.”

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