Stripped

Chapter 1

As she wound a leg around the top of the metal pole,
Abby closed her eyes briefly. Her favorite part of the song was approaching,
and it never failed to move her.

She pressed her hands to the cool surface of the
stage, balancing herself before parting her legs into the splits. A chorus of
gasps was quickly drowned out by the deep hoots and hollers of onlookers.

The lyrics of ‘Angel of Harlem’ led Abby as she
approached the row of men eyeing her eagerly, clutching dollars readily. She
was an angel in devil’s shoes, she reminded herself as she bent toward a man
who licked his lips in nervous excitement. Tonight this song was her anthem.

As bills were tucked into the snug string of her
panties, Abby smiled seductively. The only reason she worked at Mickey’s was
for the money, and she always did what it took to bring in the most.

The stubby fingers of a large, red-faced man trailed
down her thigh after he tucked his money in. She moved away from him smoothly.

“Hey, baby,” breathed a man with a receding hairline
as he pushed a bill in with a lusty expression. Abby bit her lip and gave him a
tantalizing smile. She swung her long hair up with a swish as she stood, giving
one last glance over her shoulder.

As she left the stage, Abby pretended the cheers she
heard were for her dancing. She smiled to herself. Maybe just a little bit for
the dancing?

“Hey, I got us a table,” Abby’s friend Sam said.
“Bachelor party.”

“Sweet,” Abby said, plucking the dollars out of her
panties and pushing them into her locked backstage container.

“Loser buys the winner lunch,” Sam said, raising her
eyebrows in challenge. Abby smiled. Sam was competitive, and men gravitated
toward her. But Abby liked their friendly competitions. They kept her mind off
some of the more unpleasant aspects of working at Mickey’s.

“Ready?” Sam asked, smacking Abby’s behind lightly.
Abby replaced the bra she’d discarded during her dance and joined her friend.

“Hey, how’s Sara?” Sam asked in a low voice as they
made their way across the club.

“Better. She hasn’t thrown up since lunchtime,” Abby
murmured.

“Hi, boys,” Sam purred as she arrived at a large
table of around a dozen men. “I’m Lacey, and this is my friend Nikki.”

Abby waved flirtatiously at the mention of her stage
name. She was protective of her real name, sharing it with very few people who
worked at the club.

“Fuck, yeah,” one of the men said, eyeing the women
salaciously. A pop song blared as one of the other dancers swung her way
through her pole dance on stage.

“Where’s the groom?” Abby asked coyly.

“Reed!” several of the men yelled out in unison,
laughing and slapping the table as they pointed to a dark-haired man at the end.
They were already drunk. Abby knew that meant she could expect obscene behavior
and
tips.

“We can touch you, but you can’t touch us,” she
reminded the men lightly.

The two women stood on either side of the groom as
they began their lap dance. He didn’t look much older than she was, Abby
thought. As she swayed her hips toward him, he had the grace to look guilty. He
ran a hand through his dark, curly hair as his eyes roamed between Abby and
Sam.

“Oh, shit,” he said softly as Sam pressed her
breasts into his face. His friends cheered raucously.

He was cute, Abby thought. He had delicious dark
stubble and warm hazel eyes. His friends mostly looked his age, too. These were
the groups Abby disliked dancing for the most. Older men with beer bellies and
wedding rings were easy, because it was all a money-making game. But men like
these reminded Abby what she was missing. She was 24, and in a different life,
she could have been with a man like Reed.

He smiled shyly at her as she ran her hands up his
thighs. Abby wondered whether he was a good kisser. She pictured him in a
tuxedo, with a look of complete adoration for his bride.

Just stop
,
she reminded herself.
This is your life. Focus, and make money
.

The groom tipped both women well at the end of the
song, and Sam kissed him on the cheek.

The man next to him met Abby’s eyes as he slipped
her a folded twenty. He had dark skin and a disarming grin.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said softly as she worked
herself against him. She smiled and arched her back, tossing her long, sandy
brown hair behind her. He gently reached his hands around her hips.

“No,” she reminded him, touching his wrists.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. She winked as she
turned her back toward him, continuing her dance. The music took her mind over
again, and she stopped thinking about anything but the rhythm of it.

“I’ll buy you one, Chris,” her customer said to the
man next to him as he handed Abby another bill.

Abby moved toward him in anticipation, but he shook
his head and smiled.

“That’s okay,” he said. She instinctively looked to
his left hand for a ring but saw that it was bare. Gay? He didn’t seem like it,
because she felt sexual energy from him. Must be engaged, she thought, and she
could see why: Golden blond hair in short messy waves, dark brown eyes and a
smile that would charm any woman.

“You sure, baby?” she asked.

“No,” he said, grinning warmly as he admired her.
Abby cocked her head, confused.

“Just do it,” his friend said, getting up from the
table. “He wants it.”

She looked to the blond man for confirmation, and he
held her eyes silently.

“Are we doing this or not?” she asked, put off by
his reluctance. Some men were too shy or guilty to go through with a dance, but
he wasn’t one of those. His gaze was aloof and confident.

“It’s tempting, but no,” he said.

“I won’t tell your girlfriend, you know.”

The corners of his lips turned up a little.

“I’m single.”

Though she knew she should just move to the next
customer, Abby couldn’t seem to.

“Is it me?” she asked.

“Not at all. You’re very alluring. I just don’t like
how one-sided lap dances are. What’s in it for you?”

“The money.”

“Keep the money. It wouldn’t be hot for me unless
you were turned on, too.”

“Maybe I would be.”

“Not nearly as much as you would be if I could touch
you.”

Abby smiled at his self-assurance. She knew the men
who pawed her at the club did so for
their
gratification, not hers. But
the way he kept his focus on her eyes, she couldn’t help wondering if this man
meant what he said.

“Maybe your very presence would turn me on,” she
said with a grin.

“Maybe. You’re having that effect on me.”

Sam had just finished a dance, and she interjected.

“You’re burning time, Nikki, he doesn’t want a
dance. But how ‘bout one from me?” she asked, pushing a hip toward him.

“No, thanks,” he said, shaking his head. Abby was
gratified. Most men were unable to refuse Sam, a half-Asian beauty with a lithe
figure.

Abby locked eyes with the blond man for another
brief second before she moved to the next customer. She had to remind herself again
to stop thinking about what she could never have.

“Think that Greek God’s gay?” Sam asked as she
rubbed shimmering lotion into her breasts.

“What?” Abby asked, confused, as she read a text
message on her phone.

“That blond guy who didn’t want either of us,” Sam
said. “He’s really hot.”

“Yeah, maybe he is,” Abby said, writing a quick
return message to her brother Justin.

“What do you mean maybe? He looks like a movie
star,” Sam said.

“I meant maybe he’s gay,” Abby said. “Justin said
Sara’s temp’s down and she’s sleeping.”

“That’s good,” Sam said. “So what was your take?”

Abby counted the bills she had collected from the
bachelor party.

“$130.”

Sam narrowed her eyes.

“$110,” she said glumly. “It’s not fair that you
have the body of a supermodel.”

“Hardly,” Abby said, laughing.

“Seriously, you’re not just hot, you’re pretty, too.
My eyes are just plain brown, but yours are gold and brown. And that hair…let’s
just say I’m a little jealous.”

“You’re sweet, Sam. But I’m just an average girl who
does an above-average amount of maintenance. You’ve got that exotic beauty men
love.”

Sam smiled as she tucked her bills into the opening
of her wooden box.

“Abby? Abby?”

“Hmm…” Someone was nudging her, but Abby was lost in
a deep sleep.

“Abby, Dylan’s birthday party is today. I need a
ride, and we have to get a present on the way. Wake up, Abby.”

“Okay, I’m awake, Sara,” Abby mumbled, rubbing her
face. “What time is it?”

“11:00. The party starts at noon.”

Abby rolled out of bed, eyeing her youngest sister’s
outfit.

“Where did you get those pants?” she asked.

“I borrowed them from Tatem.”

“Take them off. A nine-year-old girl has no business
in low-rise pants that show your stomach.”

“I like them, though,” Sara said, looking
crestfallen.

“No way. Go change and don’t pull anything like this
again. I buy you perfectly nice clothes and you need to wear them.”

Sara sighed and left the room as Abby pulled on
sweatpants and a t-shirt. She was still groggy from sleeping so late. Saturday
mornings were her time to catch up on sleep.

“Hey,” Justin said as she wandered into the kitchen.
“Was that you I heard in here at five this morning?”

“Yeah, it was a late night,” Abby said, yawning as
she sat down at the small kitchen table. “Is Sara well enough to go to this
party?”

“She seems okay to me,” Justin said, shrugging.

“I’ll go get groceries today,” Abby said, noticing that
Justin was eating cereal.

“I’m working 12 to 7. I’ll be home in time for you
to get to work later,” Justin said.

“You’ve been working a lot lately. Do you have
enough time to study?”

“Yeah.”

“Justin, you don’t need to work. I make enough for
all of us,” she said, exasperated. Though he was 20, it was hard for her not to
still think of him as a child sometimes.

 “I need to make my own money. I’ve been working
since I was 15.”

“I know, but this pre-med program is tough, and I
want you to focus on your school work.”

“I’m fine, Abby. I want to help you,” he said.

Sara bounded into the room wearing jeans that
covered everything, and Abby nodded her approval.

“Audrey, let’s go, we’re taking Sara to the party,”
Abby called.

“Just let me stay here,” Audrey said from her
bedroom.

“No, come with us.”

“I’m 12, Abby, I can stay home by myself! Mom’s
here, anyway,”

“Come on, we’ll go out for lunch after we drop Sara
off,” Abby said. Audrey glared at her, silently walking out the door.

“Have fun,” Justin said with a small smile.

As she rolled her car to a stop in a parking place
near the front door of Case Publications, Abby decided it must be her lucky
day. She was never able to park so close, and it had happened on a day she was
running late. A Monday, no less.

She grabbed her bag and hustled toward the door of
the three-story office building. When she walked into her small second floor
office, her boss Marla was there.