Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,28

just too painful.

A flare of desire to protect Abby had risen in him, and it was at odds with his desire to keep his distance from her. He was realizing why she had so little self-worth; no one else had ever valued her body, so why should she?

But deep down, he worried that the worst thing he could do was get even closer to Abby. Let her rely on him and feel the assurance of being protected and adored. Because when his fear of commitment came to call, Abby would be left more heartbroken than ever, and he couldn’t live with himself if he did that to her.

Chapter 7

Sam sniffed while rubbing her nose as she sat at the vanity with Abby.

“I got $200 for a blowjob in the parking lot last night,” Sam said in a low, confiding tone.

“You don’t need $200,” Abby said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“Well, it’s just fun to see how much I can get. And it didn’t even take ten minutes.”

“Be careful.”

“I am.”

Sam stiffened nervously as Mickey approached with a young brunette in tow.

“Lacey, Nikki, this is Roxy, our new dancer,” he said. Abby eyed the tall, lean woman with long hair and high cheekbones. She was beautiful, and she barely looked 18. But Mickey was always meticulous about making sure the dancers were legal, so that was probably exactly how old she was.

Roxy looked fresh and eager, and it made Abby feel old. She had been dancing for a long time, and it had gotten mundane a while ago. She wished she had time to return to the real dancing she’d practiced in her childhood and teen years. When life at home had been tenuous, Abby had always found an escape in dancing.

“Nikki, can you show Roxy around?” Mickey asked.

“Sure.”

Mickey stared at Sam, who squirmed under his gaze. Abby no longer wondered whether Sam was using drugs; she was sure of it. Now it was only a matter of time until Mickey fired her.

Abby felt Mickey’s eyes on her as she danced, and she wondered what he was thinking. When she finished her pole dance and left the stage, he made his way toward her.

“Nicely done as always, Nik,” he said smoothly.

“If this is about my boobs, the answer’s no,” Abby said defensively.

“It’s not. I would recommend a full Brazilian wax, though, Godzilla.”

“Godzilla?”

“What? You’re a hairy beast.”

“Please, Mickey. I get waxed every week and there’s like a fourth of what grows there naturally.”

“I need a favor,” Mickey said with a fake smile.

“You sure know how to pour on the sugar before asking,” Abby muttered.

“James Rockhold is in the club tonight. He’s a very wealthy investment banker, a real VIP. I want him to have an outstanding first experience here so he’ll become a regular.”

“You want me to do his lap dance?”

“Yeah, sort of…”

“Sort of?”

“He wants a bed dance.”

“I don’t do bed dances.”

“But he only wants you, Nikki, please. I tried to talk him into one of the other girls, but he only wants you. Please, do this for me. It’s just like a lap dance.”

“It’s not, and you know it,” Abby snapped.

“I’ll owe you. Really owe you. I don’t want to turn him down. At the other clubs, the girls don’t get to decide what they will or won’t do.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No. I’m just saying, I don’t want him to think Mickey’s is less of an experience than the other clubs.”

Abby sighed with frustration.

“This isn’t a fair thing to ask of me,” she said.

“I respect your boundaries, but I’m asking you to make an exception this one time. For me.”

“Fine,” Abby said, feeling defeated. “One song. That’s it.”

James Rockhold had slicked back silver hair and a fake tan. Abby put on her most seductive smile as she led him through the curtain of a private bed room. Though she had a sick rumble in her stomach, Mickey had always been good to her and she wanted to make him happy.

She knew the basics of a bed dance, but had never actually done one. When James took off his gray suit coat and tossed it on a chair, Abby felt like a prostitute for a sick second. She wanted to leave the room, but steeled herself instead. It was like a lap dance, she told herself. But the women who did bed dances didn’t tell their customers not to touch.

“Panties off,” he ordered, his face calculating. Abby refused to look at him as she complied.

As the music started, she