Southern Seduction (12 page)

“Sounds like you found a nice addition. I’ll make sure I stop by the club tomorrow night to see her big debut.”

Grant claps his hands together in excitement and hops out of the chair. “Fantastic! Are you gonna hang around here tonight, boss?” he inquires.

“Probably not, but I’ll make sure I’m here tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. I’ll hold down the fort for ya,” Grant says over his shoulder as he starts to walk out of the office.

“Grant, one more thing.”

He turns around and looks towards Penn inquisitively.

“Stop calling me boss.”

Grant chuckles loudly. “You got it.”

“Are you sure we haven’t met before, honey? You look awfully familiar.” A skeptical glance is thrown her way.

“I have one of those faces. People always think I look familiar,” Daniella answers, brushing the question off with ease. No way in hell is she going to let this stripper know she actually paid her—cheaply she might add—to give a Marine a lap dance the other night.

“This is the dressing room. Your little area is right here.” Kitty shows Daniella the empty vanity. The employee area for Wild Nights is surprisingly nice. Each stripper has her own spot decked out with a small closet and an area for hair and makeup.

“Wow. This is pretty nice.”

Kitty smiles wide, showing off her pearly whites. “I know. You should have seen the other place I stripped at. We had lockers.”

“
Lockers
?”

“You heard me right, honey. And the bathroom for the strippers and female customers was located in our dressing room. It was a god damn travesty,” she voices, making her Southern twang very apparent. Daniella finds Kitty’s comment about the last place she stripped being a travesty very ironic considering there’s an industrial-sized box of baby wipes sitting next to an enormously large bottle of baby oil in the middle of the dressing room.

Now,
that’s a god damn travesty.

Kitty gestures to the communal table with her perfectly manicured hand—the table holding what Daniella guesses is the stripper survival kit. “That’s for everyone to use, sweetie. So help yourself to the baby wipes, baby oil, body glitter… Basically anything on that table is for your use.”

Her eyes go wide in disbelief.
Baby oil? Body glitter?
Is she really here?

“Did you and Grant decide on your name?” Kitty inquires as she sits down at her vanity, which is conveniently located next to Daniella’s. Her short silk robe does little to hide her naked body. And every other female who’s currently strolling around the dressing room seems to have little concern about walking around in the nude.

This is definitely going to take some getting used to.

She follows her new stripper friend’s lead and sits down beside her. “Uh, yeah. We chose Roxie.”

“
Roxie
,” she repeats, testing the name. “I really like that!” Kitty exclaims as she begins to powder her nose underneath the fluorescent lights of her vanity. “So have you danced before?”

“Well…
sort of
. I did ballet for over fourteen years. I just haven’t exactly danced in this sort of way…” Daniella trails off mid-sentence when she notices Kitty smirking at her with amusement.

“You told Grant a little white lie, didn’t ya?”

She cringes in response. “I didn’t exactly lie, per se. I just glazed over what kind of dancing experience I have. And it’s not like he directly asked me if I’ve stripped before. He just said, ‘Have you danced?’”

Giggles spill past Kitty’s scarlet-red lips. Her face beams with hilarity. “He was probably just so damn happy to get a young, hot thing like you in here that he didn’t really think through his questions. Can’t say I’m surprised though. Grant is pretty easy to get excited. He’s a really a good guy though. Fantastic boss. He’s worlds better than the slimy asshole I used to work for at Club Royale.”

Daniella’s chest fills with relief and her outlook on this new job has changed to considerably hopeful. “Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” she adds with genuine sincerity. “So do you know a lot about the actual owner?” She can’t help herself from asking this question.

“He’s hotter than sin and every single girl here is desperate to get into his pants, but the man is a fucking monk around his staff. He’s a pretty nice guy though. It’s a shame we won’t be seeing him around her too much longer. Word on the street is that he’s selling the rest of the club to Grant,” Kitty informs with a whisper.

“Good to know,” she responds quietly. A part of her is nearly sagging in relief that Penn hasn’t touched any of his staff, but another part of her,
the very irrational part
, is damn near spittin’ with anger that a bunch of strippers are lusting over him.

A group of women strides into room wearing very revealing clothing. It’s not even their stripper attire—it’s their everyday attire. Daniella finds herself rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Feather! Destiny! Goldie! Dawn! Misty!” Kitty yells in their direction. All five women turn around. “This is our new girl, Roxie.” She points a finger in Daniella’s direction.

Daniella waves with a friendly smile, hoping the normal cattiness that surrounds most women isn’t a current issue in this club. Several curious looks and scrutinizing once-overs are thrown her way, making Daniella realize that this whole stripper thing might be a little harder than she originally thought.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetie. They’re just jealous that you’re so god damn gorgeous and will probably steal half of their tips and regulars,” Kitty mutters under her breath.

She grins in amusement and finds herself thankful that Grant teamed her up with Kitty. It seems she’s the only nice female in the entire club. “So do you have a boyfriend or husband?”

“Sure do. We’ve been together for five years. I miss my Carlos like crazy though. Long-distance relationships are so hard.” Her scarlet lips turn down at the ends.

“Long distance? Is he in the military?”

Kitty shakes her head. “Oh no, sweetie, he’s in Huntsville.”

Her brow rises in confusion. “Huntsville? Huntsville, Texas? That’s not too far.”

“Huntsville Penitentiary. He’s got another twenty years until he’s up for parole,” Kitty offers as she applies mascara to her lashes.

She tries to hide her downright shock over that little revelation. “Oh my. That must’ve been hard for you when he was put in prison.”

“Oh I didn’t know him them. I met him through a prison pen pal site. He’s the light of my life, and I’m sure it goes without saying, but Carlos isn’t guilty. There’s no way he killed that man,” she says nonchalantly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be talking about her inmate husband.

Daniella starts coughing loudly and covers her mouth with her petite hand. Kitty’s prison pen pal story is so outrageous that it has her choking on her spit.
What the hell?

“You okay?”

“Uh huh,” she mutters with a raspy voice. In that moment, Daniella makes a promise to herself that she will never ask any of the other strippers about their personal lives. No way in hell does she need to hear any more stories like Kitty’s.

“So are you all set for your big debut tonight, sweetie?”

Daniella’s hand freezes mid mascara application as her jaw drops slightly from the realization of what’s to come. For a few seconds, she forgot about the fact that she’d soon have to grace the main stage’s presence and provide the crowd of Wild Nights with a striptease routine. But now she’s remembering. Two-dimensional paper butterflies flutter around in her belly. Nausea waters her mouth.
Can I really go through with this?

Do I even have an option?
No, not really. This is pretty much her last resort unless she wants to unload her financial problems on her family’s shoulders. And that’s one thing stubborn, Type A Daniella Pruitt refuses to do. A tight breath is inhaled inside of her aching lungs as she gives herself a mental pep talk.
You can do this. You can stride onto that stage and shake your tits, wiggle your ass, and encourage the patrons of Wild Nights to make it rain money all over the stage.

Not the best pep talk, but it somehow manages to work.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I should probably get dressed,” she replies with a surprisingly steady voice as she glances around the room, looking for a more discreet area to get ready.

“Don’t even bother,” Kitty whispers. “Everyone just changes out here in the open,” she informs her as she pointedly eyes the naked stripper, also known as Feather, standing near the communal baby wipes and body glitter table. She obviously wants to make sure every nook and cranny is cleaned, glittered, and oiled up for her audience.

Daniella closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trying her damndest not to show the pure shock that threatens to flash across her face. She never imagined seeing someone she doesn’t know so up close and personal.

“All of this is probably going to take some getting used to,” Daniella mumbles under her breath just loud enough for Kitty to hear.

The stripper responds with a sympathetic smile and pat on her petite shoulder. “Don’t worry, Roxie. You’ll do just fine.” And then she goes back to grooming and primping.

Daniella keeps her eyes tightly closed as she slips into a corset and black lace panties. She didn’t have that much time to prepare for tonight, and this is an outfit she had from a Halloween party a few years back when she first started at the University of Houston. It was one of very few times that she’d actually participated in a fraternity party. Eliza and Sarah had dragged her to it and forced her to dress up in the sluttiest apparel possible. Daniella has never been self-conscious of her body, but she never felt the need to dress like a skank to grab the attention of men. Obviously, that sentiment has been thrown out the window since she signed her soul away to the strip club devil.

She slides the corset and panties over her naked form and refuses to let her eyes become aware of the curious stares being thrown her way. Who would have thought strippers could be so god damn catty?

Daniella is more than aware that all of the women in the dressing room are sizing her up, outwardly critiquing her body and mentally calculating if she will make more money than they will. She’s not here to be the best stripper or the richest stripper. She’s just here to make enough money to pay off her tuition. That’s the goal.
The only goal
. But she knows it’s not worth openly talking about because these women couldn’t care less. They’ve already made it a competition in their shallow brains.

Could you imagine if they put all of that mental effort into something worthy?

Daniella internally shakes her head, refusing to let herself stoop to their catty level. She continues to get ready and ignores everyone else in the room except for Kitty. The two women continue to chat small talk and primp themselves for the night. And for a few moments, Daniella forgets about her concerns. She forgets about the nerves demanding her attention. She forgets that she is about to do something that she never ever imagined herself doing. And she forgets just whose club she’s currently at.

She forgets about everything…until he walks into the room.

Penn is dressed casually in black slacks and a black buttoned-up, collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his forearm.
God, he looks good.
Undeniably, still one of the most handsome men she’s ever laid eyes on.

His blue eyes are warm and his smile genuine as he greets a few of the women getting ready. He goes through the motions of a typical night at the club, completely comfortable and relaxed...until he sees
her.

Frozen. Disbelief. Shock. Anger.

And then
rage
. Acute and boiling inside of his blood stream.

What in the hell is she doing here?

His hands clench into tight fists as his jaw ticks with absolute irritation.

Is this some kind of practical joke?

If it is, he isn’t finding it the least bit funny. He is beyond pissed—downright infuriated at the sight of her. She faces him, her brown eyes as wide as saucers and her mouth tight with uncertainty. Daniella Pruitt is in the dressing room of his club—his
strip club
. She stands before him, dressed scantily clad in a black corset accentuated with the tiniest black lace panties known to man. Her long legs are emphasized seductively by the stiletto heels that cover her feet. If he weren’t already overcome with anger, his jaw would have hit the floor. His cock might have even started to stand at attention, but his brain is occupying all of the blood flowing throughout his body. And his brain is fucking pissed.

She can tell he’s angry. Anger probably isn’t even a strong enough word for the emotions that are flashing across his face like a neon billboard. Penn is fuming. His jaw is clenching in tight movements as his brow furrows sharply over his ice-blue eyes. His eyes have turned cold, frigid even, in a matter of seconds. The moment he spotted her, his entire demeanor changed. No longer warm or cozy—Penn flipped to furious.

“Penn, this is our new girl, Roxie,” Grant offers. Daniella didn’t even notice that there was a man standing next to him. All she sees is Penn. He infiltrates her mind and leaves her nervous and unsure.