Damon [The Texas Senator's Sons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (10 page)

Regan shrugged. She didn’t give it up. She just got really busy with her business. “I love to dance, don’t get me wrong, but I love my floral business. It’s my life, really.”

“You’re great at that, too,” Bree commented and began to unpack.

“Thanks.” Regan smiled. She needed the extra pat on the back. It was silly, but she thrived on it nonetheless.

They walked to the table, and Regan sat down for Bree to work her magic. “I really appreciate you helping me, Bree. You are a godsend.”

“No problem, but remind me again why you are doing this. I feel like I pressured you into it,” Bree admitted.

“Damon,” Regan said and beamed.

“Uh-huh,” Bree sighed. “Look who’s falling for the tall cowboy.”

Damon walked into the Dollhouse Gentleman’s Club and began scanning the interior for a glimpse of Regan. He had smoothed things over with Drew earlier, which was great because his brother was smiling from ear to ear.

“Isn’t this the greatest place you’ve ever seen?” Drew said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Damon nodded as he looked for an open table that provided a good view. It was almost eight, and the club was pretty busy for a Tuesday night. Spying a spot with a nice open view of the stage, he headed toward it with Drew shouting “Hot damn!” behind him.

A waitress came over wearing little more than tiny bits of fabric and took their drink order while Damon continued his search. Drew drummed his hands on the table like a kid hyped up on caffeine. “I’m glad you came, man,” Drew admitted and punched Damon in the arm.

“Yeah, me too,” Damon said, feeling regret. He wasn’t here for his brother. He was here to see Regan, and that made him feel like an ass. He looked at Drew and his innocent nature and hoped that this Shay was everything he believed her to be and more.

The waitress set their drinks down with a smile. Drew flipped out a bill and told her to keep the change, which made her smile bigger. Damon started to wonder if the boy had any money left in the bank or any sense left upstairs. It was more than likely a combination of both.

* * * *

Backstage, Regan stood in front of a mirror adjusting her outfit. So far she had met a lot of the other dancers, and from what she could tell there were only two decently nice ones. Three were catty and that was being nice. One seemed to have a thing for cocaine, stupid girl. Another was existing in another plane altogether which showed when she talked about how stripping helped her spiritual growth.

Regan turned and bumped into a dancer in full-out gothic clothing, and she wondered if she had been at the wedding on Saturday.

“Watch it, bitch!” the goth said with a sneer across her crimson lips and pale face. Regan was shocked.

The one person she wanted to meet hadn’t been around backstage. She had seen Shay around the club and a couple of times talking to the owner. Regan figured she must have worked here for some time, or else she’d be getting ready and rehearsing like everyone else. She must not need to rehearse, Regan thought. It sure didn’t show when she danced on Saturday. Her moves were fluid, seductive, and without error. Maybe she was just that good.

“Hey girl, you’re third in rotation. Get on the stage immediately when your music starts and off when it ends. Don’t lollygag for extra tips. It really pisses the other girls off,” Ebony, a caramel-skinned dancer, said.

She was one of the nice ones. Full of good advice and pointers, she seemed genuinely friendly. “Thanks, I really appreciate you helping me,” Regan said, loving the comradery. “Not everyone here is as helpful or nice.”

Ebony waved her hand in dismissal. “Forget them. We’re all here for one thing, and that’s money! They had to learn the ropes, too. They just forget that part.”

Just then, Shay came strolling in the dressing room like she owned the place. Regan made a mental note to only use stage names inside the club and not real names, which was another thing that bothered the dancers. Regan watched and looked for an opportune time to talk to her. The dancers slowly cleared out except Regan and Ebony.

Cherry sprayed her brilliant auburn hair and checked her makeup then caught Regan staring. “What the hell, newbie?” She turned and stared in Regan’s direction.

Regan didn’t know what to say. She really hadn’t encountered so many people with bad dispositions in all her life. “I, uh, I just hadn’t met you yet. I saw you dance the other night. You’re really good.”

Cherry walked over to Regan and Ebony with her hand on her hip. The look on her face was aloof with confidence oozing out of every pore. She stopped in front of Regan and looked her up and down with a sneer. “Listen, new girl, you’ll do well if you remember one important rule.”

Regan blinked, not sure what to say but decided by the look on Cherry’s face that her rule wasn’t nice. She knew immediately, though, that she couldn’t back away from her and cower. “And what’s that?” she replied with a little attitude thrown in.

“Stay the hell out of my way. It’s that simple,” Cherry said and strutted away.

Regan’s heart thundered in her chest and not in a good way. She hated confrontation no matter what the circumstances were. Currently she was learning about the secret world behind the scenes at a strip club where hundreds or even thousands were on the line every night.

“Ignore her, understood?” Ebony ground out. “She’s the resident bitch.”

Regan giggled. She couldn’t help it. Ebony was funny in a unique way and seemed to lift her spirits without even trying. “Understood.”

* * * *

Drew catcalled at his woman and bride-to-be as she took to the stage. “Damn, she’s hot isn’t she?” he hollered at Damon.

Damon nodded but could have cared less about how she looked or any other dancer in the joint for that matter, except Regan. He was sure that she would be donning her blonde wig he bought. It looked great on her and really disguised her well, but he preferred her soft brunette locks.

He could tell that Drew was in pretty deep with Shay or just blissfully ignorant. Whatever it was had done a number on the guy, but if Damon were to compare his current mindset he wasn’t much further off. Drew watched each and every move Shay made onstage with his eyes wide, a look of possessiveness in them. Damon could relate. He was beginning to feel that way for Regan.

The song ended, and Luscious Cherry
waved while strutting offstage. “Man, I love that woman!” Drew pounded the table with enthusiasm. “She’ll be on the floor once she changes clothes, and you can meet her,” Drew said and looked at Damon for any hint of interest.

Damon caught on quick. “Great!” He smiled like an idiot trying to play the game well.

* * * *

When Regan arrived at the club earlier, her nerves began to get the better of her. The manager asked another dancer to show her to the dressing rooms, and she followed, unsure she could see this through. “You can have this locker for your things. Did you bring your own lock?” the dancer asked with a hateful stare.

“Yeah, I brought a lock,” Regan replied, and noted how the woman studied her. She began to worry, thinking the dancer could tell she was a fraud.

“Great. You’re on your own,” the woman said and walked away in her barely there bikini.

Regan thought about the exchange as she stood and waited for her turn. She cracked her knuckles, having nothing better to do with her hands that trembled. She wished she could call Damon and hear his fantastic voice, which would help. But she couldn’t do that. Her phone was in her locker, and in less than three minutes she would be up.

She heard the music change and knew Shay,
uh, Cherry,
had finished her set. Any moment now, Ms. Friendly would make her presence known.
Oh, speak of the devil.

“Break a leg, skank!” Cherry chided as she stomped by.

Wow, nice girl!
Regan couldn’t for the life of her figure out why Shay hated her guts so bad. What had she done? She had only just met her.

“Hey, American Pie,” Ebony said as she walked up beside Regan.

“Hey, girl!” Regan smiled, glad she remembered to respond to her stage name.

“I know you think you’re fooling some people, but you’re not fooling me,” Ebony began.

Regan’s heart stopped.

“You’re new,
really
new, I can tell. Just a piece of advice from me to you…there is no audience. The only person you’re dancing for is the guy that makes your heart zing. That’s it, he’s the only one out there…remember that, and you’ll be okay.” Ebony smiled and patted Regan on the arm.

Regan thought about what she said, and then she thought about Damon. She could kiss Ebony right now. “Thanks, that helps!”

The music ended and Regan’s heart went into overdrive.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Adrenaline shot through her like lightning, and her skin began to buzz and tingle. She closed her eyes and thought about Damon, and then she reminded herself that he was the only one she was dancing for, just him and no one else.

She climbed the small stairs and stood offstage until she heard her music start. Fear and nervousness made her legs weak. An uneasy quiver spread from her stomach outward, sending goose bumps rising across her skin.
Now or never.

Her feet carried her out onstage to loud catcalling and whistles. Her body moved in time with the music, with her hands on her hips to “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).” She tipped her cowboy hat as the lights flashed in her eyes. Strobe lights bounced around the stage, making it hard to concentrate. She could only see the men sitting up close and wondered if Damon was already there.
Please don’t let me make an ass of myself.

She strutted across the stage, trying to adopt the look of confidence the other dancers had while toying with her tiny black bikini. Men cheered, urging her to take it off.

Regan turned her back to the audience and leaned forward, showing her other asset. She placed her hands firmly on the stage and pushed herself into a handstand. Her legs resembled a pair of scissors, and then she slowly allowed them to fall into a middle split. The men yelled out their excitement, and Regan returned her legs into the air. Slowly she put her feet on the floor and stood up, swaying her hips to the music and allowing it to vibrate through her. She took off her vest, threw it across the stage, and twirled around the pole.

Flashing a smile, Regan toyed with her top, slightly revealing what the crowd wanted to see. Finally, with one pull her top came off and fell to floor. Men on the front row held their bills into the air, dying to poke them into her bottoms. She fell to her knees and crawled to the edge of the stage where the men congregated. Up on her knees, her hips bucked and moved to the beat, her hands caressing her breasts with lust written all over her face. Eager hands snapped bills into her G-string as she continued her sexually-heated play before them.

Before she knew it, her music was coming to the end. Her mind became so worked up thinking about Damon and picturing only him while she danced that she lost track of everything. Men clamored around the stage as Regan waved and worked her way off, remembering Ebony’s advice earlier. When she got out of eyesight, she fell against a wall and took deep breaths while smiling. Her hands were still trembling, but she felt an erotic edge, and it was exhilarating.

“Damn, girl, that was hot!” Ebony said, waltzing up in her silver- and-blue genie outfit.

“Thanks!” Regan squealed and hugged her, not able to control her giddy emotions.

“Now you have floor time,” Ebony reminded her. “Check the schedule in case you have another dance.”

Regan nodded and walked off quickly toward the dressing room.

Even though her heart thundered erratically in her chest, she never felt more alive than at this very moment. Normally she didn’t feel sexy or attractive, but tonight, she felt exotic. A giddy sense of anticipation raced through her thinking about Damon sitting somewhere in the crowd. She wondered if he enjoyed watching her. The other night at the club he didn’t bother to watch any of the women. That thought made her smile again.

At her locker, Regan began to feel somewhat out of place in the sea of women hustling through in their various outfits. Outside of Ebony, none bothered to introduce themselves.
I’m not here to make friends. Focus.

Regan didn’t really know what all floor time included, but already she knew lap dances were a part of it. She cringed, not sure if she could grind against some random guy’s lap. Now Damon, she loved to do that to him. Her face heated up as she dressed, thinking about Damon, and the time they had spent together so far. Although she was glad he put on his gentlemanly front, she hoped it wouldn’t last long.

She gave an approving look at herself in the mirror, noting how different she looked. This was what she had been craving, pure excitement.

* * * *

Damon’s molars had ground together while watching Regan, fighting the urge to go up to the stage and pull her off. If any one of those bastards would have touched her, he’d of lost his mind. He was sure of it. He knew he wasn’t angry, and it wasn’t jealousy, either. It was possessiveness. She was his whether she knew it or not. His animalistic nature wanted to bash every man in the head that ogled her up front. It was Mating 101. He had vied for her affection, she had accepted, and therefore she was his, pure and simple.