I nod.
He points behind me to a half wall hung withsilver beads.
“Thanks,” I mouth and head off in thedirection of the beads, when I feel a tug at my arm.
“If you can’t find Jack, you can always comefind me,” he ogles. “I’m Nick.”
I smile awkwardly. Okay Nick, thanks, butno thanks;I’m a one-stripper kind of girl.
I slip away through the crowd and walk up tothe beaded wall, the smell of lavender incense assaulting mynose.
I brush some of the heavy beads away and getonly a glimpse behind the curtain when someone grabs my hand.
“There’s nothing you want back there,honey.”
I glance up and recognize Divan, AKA theDominator. He’s dressed the same as all the other men in the club;mostly naked. He’s tall, dark and lovely, and when he looks at me,I feel completely at ease to spite his alter ego.
“What’s back there?” I ask intrigued.
He shakes his head no, and then leads me afew feet away. “Looking for Ryan?” his deep voice resonates overthe music.
“Yes, have you seen him?” I ask loudly. Themusic has changed to a relentless thumping sound.
“I can ask one of the bouncers to find him.They’re all mic’d up.”
I nod, and he walks over to a guy standing ina corner that is absolutely huge, and has the word staff plasteredacross his chest in big white letters. I see him put his hand tohis mouth and speak.
Still curious about what’s behind the beads,I glance behind me and see Ryan sliding out with a girl on his arm.They’re laughing and smiling and before they part she gives him along, drawn-out kiss on the cheek. It feels like someone justsmashed me in the chest with a brick fist. When he looks up henotices me, his expression twisting into anoh fuckface.
Oh fuck is right, friend.
His whole demeanor changes as he saunterstoward me; morphing into someone powerful and intoxicating, someonewho commands the entire room owning every cell and every atom andevery organism in it. He’s different here. His eyes, his face, hisenergy; it’s all different from the Ryan I know outside thesewalls.
In fact he’s not Ryan at all. He’s Jack theStripper.
He snakes one arm around me and nuzzles hisface into my hair. “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to give theother women any ideas,” he hisses in my ear.
“Kissing is off limits?”
Why did I just ask that?
“On the floor it is.”
Why did he answer?
Ugh.
I stare at Ryan, he’s dressed in jeans and abutton up, unlike all the other men in the club. Why? I have thesecrazy emotions splitting me in two. On one hand this arrangementeats away at me, knowing he gets paid to spend time with otherwomen. On the other hand I can’t help but be curious. What makesthis so appealing? For him and for them?
My head is spinning from the environment, thechange in Ryan and the overpowering perfumy smell of lavenderradiating off him. Not to mention the fact he just admitted kissingis permitted behind closed doors.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks, digging hiship into mine.
I want to say yes, because I am, but I alsowant to know what the fuck is behind that beaded curtain.
I feel like this is my decisive moment beforewe take the next step. I need to find out if I really can try withRyan, or if I’m fooling myself and need to cut my losses.
“What’s back there?” I ask him, thrusting mychin the direction he just came from.