Page 98 of Freaks Of Nature
I expel a hard breath. An arm wrapped around my sore middle, I sag against the wall when my phone in the kitchen starts ringing.
“Motherfucker!”
I push off with a groan and hustle down the hallway to answer it.
Mace
Istay in my room until I hear Ash leave, then shower and take off again before it becomes suffocating. The motel was a quick fix, but I’m determined to find a new place ASAP. I can’t keep living under the same roof as him.
I park my bike in one of the spots up close reserved for security and take the front entrance into the private gentlemen’s club.
Ty, the bouncer, gives me a nod and lets me pass. The club is the only place where I can find refuge tonight. I resisted the urge to drive to the diner. I’m afraid of what I’d do if I saw Emily now. I’m still too angry at her. Why would she deny herself what only I can give her? Why would she denyus?
I weave through the smoking lounge filled with guys of all ages in pressed suits. It’s busy for a Wednesday night, but business here never really slows much between days. In a city like Castle, run by corruption and dirty secrets, Mr. DeMarco has no shortage of customers.
My eyes scan the darkness, skipping over the female servers in their matching ‘uniforms’, which consist of short black sequin bodycon dresses and red plateau peep-toe heels.
TheBlack Lotusisn’t a strip club, though; you won’t find the typical stages with poles in the main lounge. If you’re willing to drop extra cash, you can, however, book any girl you like in one of the private rooms in the back. Whether it’s for a nuru massage, a lap dance, or a little more hands-on and dick-out entertainment, the club’s got your needs covered.
Despite the notoriety of what goes on behind doors, jobs at theLotusare highly sought after. The girls make good money, are treated well, and are kept safe by tight security. No means no even here, no matter how rich you are, and you don’t want Mr. DeMarco as an enemy. A ban from the club means you’re booted from the top of the food chain. Nobody wants to risk that. Membership is by referral only and not cheap either. If it wasn’t for the perks that come with working for Mr. DeMarco,Icertainly wouldn’t fly in their circle.
I finally find the face I’m searching for. Jillian sits on the armrest of one of the low chairs, an empty tray in her lap and her long legs crossed. The guy slouching in the black leather has his arm snaked around her hips as he keeps conversation with two other gentlemen across from him.
I know I’m supposed to tread carefully among the rich and powerful, but I simply don’t give a shit. “She’s taking a break,” I say, marching up and nodding at her.
The guy’s eyes narrow on me beneath dark brows. I estimate him to be in his mid to late forties; not old enough to make me feel sorry for the girls he pays to fuck here.
He looks me up and down with disdain. It sparks a sense of glee that he thinks I don’t belong.
Jillian straightens from her lean against his shoulder. Her hand lingers on his biceps. “Be right back, baby,” she tells him, rising from the armrest.
I take the tray from her and drop it on the bar in passing as I lead her back to the private rooms.
Two bouncers stand guard at the mouth of the hallway. They recognize me and wave us through instead of escorting us like they do with the reputable clientele. They know I can find my own way around.
At the fork, I swing right. Occupied rooms have red lightbulbs above the doors. I open the first one on the left that’s empty and gesture for Jillian to go in.
A quick glance connects with me over her shoulder. She’s twirling a dark brown lock around her finger. “You haven’t come by in a while. I thought you forgot about me.”
Her tone is sugary sweet, meant to keep up the charade that this is more than a transaction. I can see how some guys would eat that shit up, but I find it nauseating.
Without feeding into her seductive play, I lock the door and meet her where she stands a few feet into the small room.
Black walls close us in from all sides. Only a single dim pillar of light that was triggered when I flipped the lock shines down from the ceiling to illuminate the low platform in the center. A golden pole protrudes from it, surroundedby plush, red seating against the walls, bringing the club’s three signature colors together.
I don’t have a need for any of it.
Jillian lifts her palms to my chest. “Miss me?” she drawls, her touch skating over me.
I incline my head. Raising a gloved hand to her jaw, I press my forefinger against her lips in a shushing motion.
Her crisp blue eyes stare up at me through thick, black lashes, waiting for my command.
I stall, savoring the moment of control before my right hand lifts a roll of cash into her view.
I don’t have to cough up the membership fee, but I’m still required to pay the girls for their time. I chose Jillian because she has a kink for breath play. She gets off on being choked, and that’s rare to find in a playmate. I like wrapping my hands around things. Throats in particular.
Jillian takes the money. Tucking it into her bra, she turns around slowly, still batting her eyelashes.
