Page 36 of Dirty Puck

What a monumental occasion. I walked into the back door of Slits for possibly the very last time. Maybe I could go to college while I had the money to pay for Benny covered. I supposed I’d have to research careers that earned what I made at the arena and dancing to make it worth my while, unless I continued to work two jobs.

That thought stayed with me as I turned into McLovin’s office. His eyes lit up even as they undressed me. He made my skin crawl.

Per his usual, as I clocked in, he asked, “You quitting yet?”

A slow smile spread across my face while I checked the urge to fist-pump the air and schooled my expression as I turned to him. “Actually, I hate to do this to the club, but tonight will be my last dance.”

He pushed up from his chair, sauntering over to where I stood only a couple of feet away, like he was ready to bend me over his desk right now. “Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Some family things have popped up and I can’t work nights now.”

“With your boy?” he asked, and oh, my god, he dragged his finger up my arm. If Reece had done that, it would’ve been hot. From McLovin—anything but.

I shook my head. “With my boyfriend.”

His smarmy smile dropped. “Boyfriend?”

Oh, and this was where I got him. “Mm… It’s gotten pretty serious. I met him at my other job.”

“You met him at the arena?”

Shaking my head innocently, I answered, “Yes.”

“I highly doubt some arena guy makes what I do as the manager of the club.”

“Probably not,” I said. “But Baker does pretty well for himself.”

“Baker?”

Again, I nodded. “Are you a Copperheads fan? He’s their goalie.”

He fell back a step as if I’d taken a swing at him. “You don’t mean Baker Reece? You’re not dating Baker Reece.”

“I am. We went to the Chophouse for dinner today with several of his friends. They’re on the team, too. Would you like tickets? I’m sure I can score you some good ones.”

“Yes—no.No. Fuck, are you serious? You’re dating Baker Reece?”

“More than dating. We’re exclusive.” I gave it a second for that to really click in. “Oh—look at the time. I have to get dressed for my first number.” As I walked out of his office, I shot a, “Let me know about those tickets” over my shoulder.

Yes. Quitting felt as good as I’d imagined it would, but even though I’d have rather told him to suck it, burning this bridge might come back to haunt me in the future. Reece and I were temporary and I couldn’t know if I’d need this job again. Hopefully not, but better safe than sorry.

Dressed in the little, sparkly number that I’d brought from home, I teased my hair up mega volumes and positively drag queened my face. Probably the darkest makeup I’d everworn. Then, when the time arrived, I walked backstage ready to make the first of my last dances of the night.

The song lineup consisted of Poison’s “Talk Dirty to Me,” then “Cherry Pie” by Warrant, and I finished with “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard. For some reason, that song always got the men parting with their cash.

Maybe I went a little OTT on that last dance of the night, especially for Don, who definitely poured the sugar on me in the form of Benjamins. The harder I worked it, the harder he jerked it and the more bills he let fly right into my garter. I wondered what he did to be able to spend that kind of cash, because if every night had been like tonight, Benny would’ve already had a trust set up by me. Now I felt kind of bad for leaving. Just not bad enough to stay.

As a parting gift to my best regular, I undulated my ass practically in his face, then rolled to the front, kicking my leg up while leaning on my hands, giving him the crotch shot of all crotch shots. Don’s orgasm was unmistakable. I winked at him while gathering up my tips. He sat there glassy-eyed, his chest heaving. The man never even touched me, but he got off that hard from a dance. This might’ve sounded weird, but I felt good about myself for giving him that. Clearly coming to see me dance gave him something he missed during his day-to-day life.

Renita waited offstage for me to exit. Hers was the last dance of the night. While her music started, I grabbed my robe hanging on the hook under my name, tying that around myself before scooting back to the dressing room.

After dressing, I scrubbed my face free of that heavy makeup—it took four remover cloths to accomplish—and started cleaning out my locker. Then, giving the dressing room one last look, I left to clock out.

McLovin’s frosty attitude felt more like a perk than the biting cutdown I was sure he wanted.

“It was great working with you,” I said while smiling at him, holding my hand out to shake. He didn’t shake it.

Instead, he said, “Your last check will get deposited like always.” Then he turned away from me, dismissing me. I had to bite back the laugh as I walked out to my car.

---