REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER SIX

Inhaling deeply, I returned to the narrow staff room, dropped my handbag on the wooden bench and did a few breathing exercises. Rather than utilising the locker with my name on it, I stripped into underwear and stuffed belongings behind it as I don't trust people not to go through my bag.

I eyed the door, listening for any advancing footsteps. When assured nobody was near or due to enter, I stood on the bench and searched atop the lockers, tossing old clothes and dusty cosmetics aside. I went through old, discarded garments to find recognisable fabrics, but before I could check inside the unlocked cranes, I overheard footfalls and collapsed on a chair when a male barman strolled inside and entered the small bathroom cubicle. I blinked at his closed door, belatedly discerning our unisex surroundings. Oh, great.

In front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I re-checked my appearance. I opted for red lingerie with black lace trim and a pair of peep-toe heels that belonged to Kathy. I cupped my breasts and tested the weight in my hands, wishing they were bigger. If it weren't mandatory to remove the bra, I'd be stuffing the cups with tissues for developed cleavage. Shaking away negative thoughts, I rolled my shoulders back to release tension. "You can do it."

I exited the staff room and headed down the narrow hallway, only to be stopped by one of the dancers. Of course, she is gorgeous, with vibrant red hair, dazzling blue eyes, and designer shoes that I want to pilfer right from her feet. Her animal print corset adhered to her curvy figure like a glove. I inwardly scolded myself for not buying something so fiercely sexy.

She tucked her phone into her cleavage. "Come with me."

Her radiant confidence had my nerves skyrocketing. Suddenly aware of my unprepossessing image, I pinched my cheeks to add colour and smoothed a hand across my stomach to keep biliousness aside.

"I'm Cherry," she said over one shoulder. "And you are?"

Cherry's the name the men inside the alleyway mentioned last night. "Alexa," I said as she stopped next to a private door. "Where are we going?"

"It appears you already have a fan." She pushed the door open, motioning for me to enter. "He's paid for thirty minutes. A hefty payment, I might add, so don't mess this up, or you'll have me to contend with."

I glanced into the room warily. An older man rested on the leather sofa, one arm curled behind his head, a drink in his other hand, beer belly resting on his thighs. "What must I do?"

"Dance, straddle, shake your arse."

Straddling a man was not part of my job description. I am supposed to be stripping to music out front, not back here with a client. "Mr Warren said I'd be working the cages tonight." Her wicked smirk confirmed my doubts. She is unfriendly. "I wasn't aware I'd be giving private dances on the first shift."

She gave me a flippant hand wave. "Get over it, Alanna."

"Alexa." My arms crossed. "My name's Alexa."

"Whatever." Her hand curled around my elbow as she forced me into the room. "Do not mess up. The boss is already looking for an excuse to fire your useless arse." Her harshness boiled my blood. "I give you a week," were her last words before the door slammed in my face.

For a moment, I just stood there, looking at the door's glossed framework.

How the hell did I manage to irritate someone on my first shift?

"About time, Missy," the client growled behind me. "Come over here and give me that dance."

I'm not sure if I could stomach this.

I turned to face the guy, disgust rooting me on the spot. I watched in dread as he unbuttoned his shirt, displaying his wild, grey chest hair and faded ink.