Chapter 14

It being a weekday night, few wandered “Sinner’s Row” and, as Daniella had noted, “Platinum Dreams” wasn’t nearly as crowded as my first visit. Once inside, I inspected the more subdued chaos. A rowdy group of younger college guys with a smattering of girlfriends clustered by the tip rail. They were cheering up at a smiling brunette, her glossy black pumps prancing along the middle stage. To the chest-hammering beat of a loud rock song, her hands peeled away a business suit.

Only a costume, the outfit would never pass muster in an actual office. Tiny skirt that she did an amazing job of keeping in the air, baring a firm, curvy rear. Matching charcoal jacket over only an overflowing purple bra, hiding little of a good-sized chest.

As the jacket lowered with teasing shifts of her shoulders and the straining lace came into full view, catcalls and whistles grew louder. Plus, a veritable shower of twenties fluttered to the underlit glass around her swaying figure. So, they were rich kids.

Scattered throughout the rest of the club, several clusters of men in business attire drank, conversing over the thumping melody. Yep, dad’s type of after-work outings. A few looked up when the jacket floated across the stage and the lithe, spinning dancer made short work of the bra. Tits swaying free, she continued to tease like a pro, offering just enough peeks to keep more bills floating around her.

With no sign of Daniella, my view locked onto a small empty table near the central platform. But after a quick scan, I settled for one towards the back of the room. There to watch, not panic her.

Soon after I sat, a server appeared. In the usual golden G-string and ankle-strapped stilettos, a small-framed black woman approached. She wore an amazing smile and possessed the cutest, jiggling, apple-sized boobs.

“Hi, I’m Sherry. What can I get you?”

“Scotch. Straight up.”

No sooner had she departed than another of the narrow stages illuminated. A fair-skinned figure danced forth. In only strategically placed slender brown leather bands, she rocked her hips to a thumping electronica tune. As, one-by-one, the straps slid away, the college boys greeted her with rising whoops.

The rest continued cheering on the “office worker.” Bent at the waist, she returned their smiles and spoke with them while one hand scooped the last cash. In the other fist lay her crumpled panties, and she worked her hips, giving the kids a pleasant view of both her jiggling breasts and bare underside. Just as the other dancer drew close, she dashed away, grinning.

Yep, dad would’ve loved the place.

When fingers appeared, placing a tumbler on the little table, I jolted. Lighter-skinned, they didn’t belong to Sherry. Beneath knitted brows, my view rose, and every muscle tensed at the sight of Skyler’s blue eyes, twinkling in the stage lights. The honey-blonde tresses in loose pigtails draped her swaying chest, providing peeks of perfect, stiff nipples.

Of course, she noticed and, grinning, gave them a little shake, but at my low chuckle, her cheeks reddened. There was the quickest flash of something behind her gaze. As if she’d done that a million times to other guys, but my reaction held meaning for her.

“Hmm, thought Sherry was my waitress?” My eyes scanned the dark room, searching for her.

“Oh, um, sorry.” Her smile faded. “I can get her back if you want. It’s just that ... Well, I saw you. You’re Tigh, right?”

“Yeah.” While nodding, I gave her face, not tits, a closer inspection. Why the sudden ... sadness? “You remember me?”

“How could I forget? She can’t stop talking about you. Calls you her ‘Mister Knight.’” When I snorted and looked at the stage as another dancer swirled from the red curtains, this one with braided black hair and wearing a culturally appropriated Native American costume, she leaned closer. “Ah, Dani doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”