A Pole and a Gun

6 - Tell him

♧ TRIXIE

I never expected my kidnapper, Dimitri, to come and visit me while I was working out in the gym. Even though I knew perfectly well he was checking me out as I danced, trailing his steel eyes over my body appreciatively, I was aware of the effect I had on him and wanted to crack that ice-cold persona he showed the world.

This is my moment to get some favors from the Russian dude. Nox, my new big and burly shadow, saunters behind me as I walk. I told him I had some stuff to ask his boss, and he just shrugged his shoulders in response.

I gather my courage to knock on his office door. The last time I was here, they hauled me upside down with my firm booty on full display.

Barging into his office after two firm knocks on the massive wooden doors, I announce my presence with a sway of my hips. I'm still wearing the tight gym clothes that bring out my curves and toned physique.

"What do you need?" Dimitri barks without looking up from his laptop screen.

"Some stuff from my apartment," I snap, folding my arms over my chest and pushing my assets together, offering them up as a distraction.

Dimitri looks up, then down, and then meets my eyes. I want to grin at his reaction, but I control my face.

"No," he states curtly, and focuses back on his work.

I clack my tongue, making a tsk sound. "That won't be wise," I retort. "Antonia is my roommate. If I can explain briefly that I'm staying here, she won't be alarmed and go to the cops to say I'm missing."

"Who the fuck is Antonia?" Dimitri inquires, folding those corded arms again over his chest. Which does strange things to my core.

The sleeves of his button-down are rolled up, and the sight makes my mouth water like a bitch in heat. Keep your fucking head in the game, Trixie.

"The bartender of the Pussycat," I say. Noting the heat between my legs and grabbing the opportunity to use my body again as a bargaining chip, I sit myself down cross-legged on the side of his desk. "We live together and she'll probably be worried about where I am."

He stares at me for a long moment, and I feel his piercing eyes on me as he assesses the situation.

"Fine," he huffs, waving a hand towards Nox with another of his unspoken orders. "Go change, meet me in ten," he directs at me, without even a glance, but I'm not complaining as I dart out of the room with a pep in my step.

Twenty minutes later I'm sitting in a Maserati fucking Levante, with supple leather seats, that caress my ass as I relax, inhaling the smell of a new car.

"Better than that thing you called a car," Dimitri smirks as he observes my reaction to his ride.

I harrumph but don't give him a reply. I loved that car; I worked hard and saved my first tips to buy it and was fixing it up slowly since I began my adventure in Las Vegas.

The smug asshat slides on some modern aviators and flicks the key to ignite the engine. The Maserati purrs smoothly and he treats me to another suave grin.

Damn you.

I clench my legs together and focus on something else that is not by any chance the fucker sitting next to me as he weaves into traffic.

He doesn't ask where I live nor needs directions. He probably got all my information from my wallet. Thus again, proving that I'm the captive here.

While he barks orders to the detail following us, my mind wanders to the shit that had gotten me in this fucked up situation.

Somehow, I didn't want him to judge me for where I lived. He owned a penthouse with bodyguards, while the little old me needed to strip my clothes off to get by.

Once he stops the car, it takes Dimitri two seconds to yank open the door on my side and grab me by the arm. His grip is firm and unrelenting.

I follow willingly as he pulls me behind him and then up the stairs of the run-down block. Dimitri checks the parking lot twice from the street-facing hallways, while I hear Nox's dark timbre coming through his earpiece.

He stops at the door of the apartment I share with my friend and we wait until I hear Antonia bursting profanities from her mouth as she approaches.

"What the hell..." she begins, but cuts herself off in the middle of the sentence when her eyes fall on me and the tall, dark stranger. "You got yourself a sugar daddy?"

"Antonia," I hold my hand out to my outspoken friend, "Dimitri." and my other hand towards dicktwat. That's as far as introductions will go. "I'm taking a bag, staying with this one," I state, wiggling my arm free and marching into the hallway as Antonia steps aside to let me through.

I walk into my room, and Dimitri follows me while Antonia leans against the frame of the door. She's probably evaluating the situation in silence or waiting for me to burst. Which I normally do, like a little bitch, but this time I can't give in. I know my keeper is carrying a gun.

"Is this all you have?" Dimitri yaps impatiently, observing the room.

"What did you think?" I reply. "I don't fucking work at the Bunny Ranch and make a fortune on my back."

"There are a couple of clubs in Vegas where strippers make a good amount of cash." Dimitri looks warily at my pile of clothes and small electronics that I'm shoving into a gym bag.

"Jackson was a good boss," Antonia looks at her nails as she answers, "but he lacked in the paycheck department."

I huff at her statement, knowing we are both out of a job.

"You will need therapy honey, you can't keep running." Antonia glances a soft motherly look at me.

"You do too, after you know..." I give her a pointed stare.

"I don't need shit when I have tequila," Antonia winks but I know that she is trying to keep it together, unwilling to crack under what we witnessed.

~

The Bunny Ranch: Prostitution is illegal in Las Vegas, but legal on the outskirts. This is a very elite and expensive brothel, where the women make over 300k a year.