Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,12
and groaned.
“I’m so hard, baby,” he said. Abby bit her lip and looked at him, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “Let’s go in one of the bed rooms.”
“I don’t do bed dances,” she said in a low voice.
“I’ll pay,” he said hoarsely.
“You need to see my friend Lacey. Or Amber. They do amazing bed dances,” she said, rubbing her breasts across his cheeks.
“No, you. I want you.”
Abby made eye contact with Joe, one of the bouncers, and he subtly made his way toward her. The song ended and she thanked her customer.
“Come on,” he urged impatiently. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I don’t do bed dances,” she said firmly.
“Fucking cocktease,” he muttered. She turned her back and rolled her eyes as she walked away.
“Thanks, Joe,” she said as she passed him. It had been a busy night, as Fridays usually were. The club was completely full, and the waiting room had been full most of the night. Abby hadn’t even taken a break, and she was tired. She had made a lot of money, though.
Mickey caught up to her as she made her way backstage.
“Your new dance is good,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Some of the younger girls could really use your help with choreography.”
“I’d help if I had the time, but I don’t,” Abby said.
“When are you getting your boobs done?”Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows critically.
“Never. We’ve been over this so many times, Mick.”
“You barely fill up a C. You’d look amazing with Ds.”
“You don’t even like boobs, what do you care?” Abby grumbled.
“You know why I care,” he said pointedly, admiring his perfectly styled dark hair in a mirror.
“Who was the blond guy you were sitting at the bar with?”
Mickey smiled at his reflection.
“Tom. I met him at a coffee shop the other day,” he said.
“Good luck with that. I’m exhausted, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Abby slipped a cotton dress on over her undergarments and added her wool overcoat. Her feet ached as she slipped them out of the high heels she’d worn all night. She slid into ballet flats and packed the heels in her bag as she headed for the door.
As soon as she started her car, she decided on an impulse to call Chris.
“Hi,” he said, his familiarity making Abby smile.
“Hi yourself.”
“How was your night?”
“Busy. How’s yours?”
“Same. Friday nights are always busy here. It’s after four, though, so things are slowing down. How tired are you?”
“Pretty tired. I get to sleep in, though.”
“You want to come by here? I haven’t had a break since seven. We could hang out, if you’re up for it.”
Abby’s fatigue said no, but she was tempted to see him in his scrubs again.
“Sure. I’ll come by.”
“Great. Just have me paged at the front desk.”
The woman at the front desk gave Abby a disapproving look as she paged Chris. Abby pulled her coat around herself more tightly as she waited. He came through the double doors that led to the emergency room, smiling.
“Hey, let’s go to one of the sleeping rooms so we can have some privacy,” he said. “There are some nurses on break in the lounge.”
Over his scrubs, he wore a white waist-length coat with his name stitched on it. He looked tired, and Abby wondered if he’d slept after their lunch.
The sleeping room was small, with only a bed and a small desk with a chair. Chris closed the door behind them and took his coat off, throwing it on the chair. He pulled Abby’s coat off her shoulders and she enjoyed the brush of his fingers against her.
“Lay down,” he said, walking to the desk to flip on a dim light. He turned the rest of the lights in the room off and Abby felt a shiver of uncertainty. She was sure she shouldn’t sleep with him, but not sure she’d be able to resist if he tried.
“Um…”
“Just lay down,” he said, his voice low. Abby reclined on the bed, conscious that she was only wearing a flimsy cotton dress with nothing but her underclothes beneath. She pressed her thighs together as Chris made his way down to the foot of the bed. A surge of longing passed through her groin as she admired the outline of his wide shoulders.
“I figured you’ve been on your feet all night,” he said, gently removing her shoes and throwing them to the floor.
“Yes,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Chris sat down, resting his back against the wall and putting her feet in his lap. She gave an audible gasp as