I pressed my lips together and looked down, embarrassed. I thought I was discreet about my living situation, always parking my car in different lots around town, protecting my privacy with sunshields and blankets. I never showed up to work dirty, finding different places to bathe. Yet, here was Dan Shepard, eagerly exposing my secrets as if they meant nothing at all. I could’ve maybe afforded a room somewhere, but I’d always felt more at home in my car. It was my one remaining physical tie to Texas, and it had gotten me through many things. I didn’t mind living in it.
“The position comes with an advance,” Dan was saying, reaching into his suit jacket and withdrawing an envelope. “You’d obviously have to make an initial investment into your appearance, your living situation, your physical location. The company’s located in Seattle proper, and I can’t say the dress code is bikini friendly.”
For not the first time, I squirmed, uncomfortable in my own skin in front of this man. This was my work uniform when I was at this bar, and it earned me my cash. Why did I feel self-conscious all of a sudden?
“There’s plenty of money in here for a new start,” he said, sliding the envelope in front of me. “Like I said. This current gig of yours isn’t going to last forever. You need to think about what you’re going to do when you’re ready to get over this bohemian blip of your life and get serious again.”
The tone of Dan’s voice reeked of condescension, and it more than ruffled my feathers. Who was he that he could just waltz in here and tell me all about my life? He didn’t have a single clue about anything.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, standing up from the bar, eager to get myself away from whatever craziness had found its way to this establishment.
“Keep the cash,” he urged. “You’re going to need it to get started at Shepard Shipments. You’ll need to buy business clothes. Shoes. Everything.”
“I don't know who you think I am, but I don't take handouts,” I said, pushing the envelope back at Dan. “And I told you I'd think about your offer—not that I was accepting it.”
Dan gave a low whistle. “A wise businesswoman already. Looks before she leaps. How’s this? If you won’t take what's in the envelope because I’m telling you to take it, how about I use it to pay for your services? You’re a good dancer, after all, and I have to say very attractive. Besides, I won’t be able to ask you for something like this once you start working for the company.”
“If I start working for the company,” I corrected, as my face got hot. What was wrong with me? On a regular night, I would’ve done anything to dance for a customer like Dan. If he dressed nice, took care with his appearance and hygiene and the like, chances were that he would be willing to take care of me, too. He’d have the cash to spend on my inflated drinks or on tips if he decided to purchase a special dance from me. I’d be at his side the entire night, a leech with makeup, looking to see whether I could bleed him dry before he swerved his way home.
So why was I so hesitant now? I didn’t know exactly what was in the envelope, but I knew it was cash. However, how much cash remained to be seen.
“You’re taking the envelope,” Dan informed me, smirking. “But it’s up to you to decide if it’s a handout or if it’s for something you’ve earned.”
I set my jaw and signaled to the bartender. “A dance,” I barked, and he went to go adjust the music.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Just one dance?” he asked.
“One dance is all I need,” I shot back, whirling him in his chair until his back was against the bar and I was mere inches away from him, standing between his knees.
The song started up, and I worked my way slowly into movement, grasping each of his knees with my hands, pushing them apart so I could wriggle between his thighs, pressing a knee against his crotch to remind him just who was in control.
Both of Dan’s eyebrows were raised now, and some part of me was glad that he was paying attention, that I had command of the floor. All of the other customers sitting around the dinky little bar were watching my every move. I was the one in control.
I untied my bikini with one hand and looped it around his neck while his eyes were preoccupied with the sudden sight of my breasts. Then I used it to drag his face down, a hair’s breadth away from my skin, before pushing him away again. The coins on my wrap rattled in time to the quick movements of my hips, and it wasn’t long until I untied that, as well, swinging the jingling fabric above my head to the cheers of other customers.
Dan didn’t cheer. He just watched, a slight smile curving his mouth upward.
I realized that I wanted to shock him out of that cool demeanor; I wanted to do something to give him a taste of the turmoil he’d introduced in my life tonight. I had no idea that, coming to work at the bar, I’d be offered a real job out of the blue—a real job and an envelope of money. It sounded too good to be true, and it probably was. Dan had said the job wasn’t glamorous, whatever that meant, but he’d ignited some dangerous flame of hope inside of me.
Hope that, after all that I had wreaked ruin upon, after all the lives I’d affected, that maybe I’d someday have a happy life again.
It was something I didn’t want. Something I hated to think about. I deserved this, shedding my clothes for strangers, letting them gaze upon the relative beauty of my outer appearance while I was the only one who understood just how ugly I was within.
As the beat in the song swelled in a crescendo, I leaped into Dan’s lap, rocking his chair back against the bar and looping my arms around his neck for stability. I straddled his lap and squeezed my thighs around his waist, gyrating my hips, aware that I was only in my thong.
Dan’s hands had initially grabbed my hips to make sure I didn’t fall off him in my sudden and acrobatic move, but now they traveled to my bare ass, his fingers slipping experimentally beneath the straps of my thong, seeing just what he could get away with before I slapped him away.
For the right price, I’d let a man get away with far more than he thought he was going to.
Something about the man between my thighs lit me on fire. Dan didn’t care that I was actually trying to make him uncomfortable. He seemed exceedingly at ease with me in his arms, his fingers trailing over my back, making me shudder and press my breasts into his chest.
Of course, one part of him wasn’t at ease at all.
A growing bulge in those nice trousers of his let me know that, in spite of his cool demeanor, I really was having a strong effect on him.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said into my ear so I could hear it over the music. “It has a mind of its own.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I countered. “Happens to customers here all the time.”
“I assure you, I’m feeling the opposite of bad right now,” he said, his hands finding my ass again and squeezing it. “I feel like I have to be breaking some rules right now.”
“I’m the one who decides the rules,” I said, grinding against him in time to the music. “And you’ll know when you break one.”
I got close to him—close enough to tell he’d recently brushed his teeth and to enjoy his taste in fine cologne—to make him lower his eyelids to half-mast, letting my lips graze ever so lightly against his.
Then, the song finished.
I hopped off, all business, and got dressed again as if nothing had transpired between us. I noticed, with some small amount of satisfaction, that Dan’s erection didn’t diminish in the slightest.