Page 8 of Lucky's Trouble

“You wanna hit up a strip club?”

“Why would I want to do that when we have a private show here?” He gestures to the corner where Larissa dances on the stage, twirling around the stripper pole. Her glittery midnight skin catches the spotlights and makes her look like a goddamn goddess. She’s naked, save for a gold thong that exposes her tight ass—the same ass I fucked last week and the week before that.

Not that my reason for wanting to go to the Thirst Trap is to get laid. I think I’m just bored. If I can ease Myla’s worries about her sister while entertaining myself, it’s a win-win.

“There’s something I wanna check out.”

He shrugs. “I’m down.”

I chug the last of my beer and slam my glass down before wiping the foam from my overgrown mustache and beard. “Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER TWO

TINLEIGH

“Hey, baby. You having a good night?” I ask, sidling up to a middle-aged man with a round face and a beer belly. He’s got money, judging by his gold watch and thick gold rings encrusted with diamonds and gems.

“Well, hi there, sweetheart. Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He shamelessly eyes me up and down.

I lean over, resting my arms on his table to give him a good view of my breasts, barely contained by my silver bra. “Thank you. Are you having fun?”

“I am now.” He pats the spot next to him. “Why don’t you keep me company for a while? My buddy stepped away to use the facilities.”

“I’d love to, but I’m about to go on stage. Would you like to come watch?”

“Sure. Which stage?”

“The main one, silly.” I giggle, running a finger along my collarbone, drawing his attention back to my cleavage.

“Should’ve known, a sexy little kitten like you.”

“There’s a seat up front with your name on it. One for your friend, too.”

Another man approaches, and I’m reassured that there’s money to be made here. His teeth are white and straight, his hair styled, and while his suit isn’t bespoke, it’s tailored to fit his frame.

“What are we doing?” he asks, his gaze going right to my tits.

“This young lady asked if we’d watch her dance on stage.”

“And if you like what you see, maybe we can take the party somewhere more private, where I can give you a better view of my assets?” I wink.

“Sounds like a plan,” man number two says.

“I’m going to get ready.” I point to the two chairs in front of the stage. “But head on over, and I’ll see you in a minute.”

As I walk away on my platform high heels, I’m sure to put an extra swing in my hips, trying to entice them even more.

It’s all an act, a skill I’ve honed over the last three years. I’m the highest earner at the Thirst Trap strip club for a reason. Not that it’s hard; my body was built to lure in men and render them stupid. From my hourglass shape to my full lips, I was made for this line of work.

At least, that’s what I tell myself. The truth is, I hate working here. It doesn’t feel good to know I’m wanted for one thing and one thing only. No one’s interested in me, only the idea of me.

My existence is nothing more than a fantasy, and that feels pretty shitty.

I make my way to the dressing room, unhooking my bra and stepping out of my thong along the way. Nudity means nothing anymore—quite the leap from how I grew up. Back then, I wasn’t allowed to wear tank tops, and my shorts had to reach my knees because heaven forbid I tempt a man with my slutty shoulders and thighs.

Opening my locker, I decide on my neon green fishnet crop top with the matching double-strap thong that sits high on my hips but dips dangerously low in front. The rhinestones scattered across both pieces sparkle under the lights, looking like diamonds. It’s a fan favorite.

After slipping it on, I stop in front of my vanity mirror to make sure my makeup is holding up. As I apply another layer of nude pink lip gloss, a familiar chill runs up my spine. I don’t see him yet, but I know he’s lurking in the shadows, watching me.

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