Later that night, with a bottle of wine making me feel loose and pliant, I decided not to let Candy’s statement scare me. Going forward with my eyes open just to be safe, I had to trust that Xavier knew what he was doing.

A week later, I was dancing on a platform, wearing a sheer black one-piece lingerie number with panels that strategically hid my assets, when the door burst open and at least a dozen men came in. The noise level immediately rose with them and my stomach dropped in anticipation, knowing this could be my chance to make more money.

One of them had to want to hire me, I thought ruefully.

It had been a long week of mostly being on my feet in killer heels—something I wasn’t accustomed to. Men came in and men left. Not once had I had a single client. It made Cherry snicker and only added fuel to her need to harass me. Just the day before I had caught her in the private lounge area in the back for us girls talking shit about how worthless I was.

While I had still earned nearly two thousand dollars in tips over the last week, which was quite a surprise—I mean who knew men paid that much just for the dancers—it still wasn’t enough. After having a taste of the higher paying clients, I knew what I needed so I could build the life that I so desperately wanted. And the sooner I had the money for it, the sooner I could stop being a hired escort.

Yes, I said escort.

I chose to call myself an escort instead of a prostitute. You know—tomato, tomahto.

Other than the fact that I seemed to be undesirable to the general male population, nothing extraordinary had happened in the last week.

Liar, a little voice whispered in the back of my head.

Okay, maybe something had happened that I decided I was reading way too much into.

Xavier had become a permanent fixture on my shifts since the night I saw him and that woman. Whenever he was around, his eyes seemed to track my every move. A handful of times, I had worked up the courage to make eye contact with him, daring him silently to look away and prove my suspicions were wrong, but he never did. He held my eyes until it was me who looked away.

The rational part of me knew he was probably just watching me since I was new. The romantic part of me believed he was as drawn to me as I was to him. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wanted someone as badly as I wanted Xavier. Problem was, even if I was right and he did want me, I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with a man like him. He was dark and dangerous, the complete opposite of what I was used to.

Big J greeted the group of men as they situated themselves at the bar and spilled over into the tables surrounding it. Ghost was off duty tonight, which surprised me. The man always seemed to be around.

Big J appeared to have no issues handling the rowdy group before going back to his perch by the secret door.

Candy came up on the podium and started gyrating her hips in time with the music. “Why don’t you go see about hooking you one of them fine boys over there?” Her head nodded in the direction of the bar.

“You think?” I asked her. My self-worth had taken a huge hit when time after time I smiled and flirted with men, yet they never seemed to want more. The couple of times I thought for sure they were going to talk to Ghost to hire me, they just had a conversation with him and then either left or moved on to another girl.

“Honey, that little number you’re sporting is ah-ma-zing! I would kill to look like you do tonight. Go! Hook yourself a man!” She shooed me away with her hands. Not many girls here would give up their chance to make some money just to help someone else out. So, before I exited the stage, I grabbed her in a quick hug and then practically bounced down the steps.

When I got close to a cluster of men, I saw they all had the same emblem on their shirts and my heart skipped a beat. They were firefighters, the whole lot of them, and most of them were sizzling hot. I wouldn’t be surprised to find them on a calendar somewhere.

Fantastic.

Whistles and catcalls began as I rounded a table and sat in one of the better-looking men’s laps. He was a buff, sexy ginger, reminiscent of Prince Harry. When my ass settled in his lap, his face reddened and I smiled at the fact I could make him blush.

I had found that playing up to the men was a lot like acting. For just a little while, I pretended I was a vixen. Thinking of it that way made it seem easier.

“Hey, sexy,” I whispered seductively in his ear.

“Hey,” he croaked out, making several of his friends laugh at his expense.

“What are you in the mood for?” I went straight for the gold after seeing how he responded to my flirting.

“Don’t bother with Timmy, sweetheart. He’s got a ball and chain about to be locked to his ankle. You’d be better off coming over here and sitting on my lap,” a man with a slight paunch and salt and pepper hair said to me.

Timmy’s hands tightened around my waist, holding me on his lap. “Piss off, Greg. She’s fine right where she is.”

Either Timmy wasn’t feeling as tied to his ball and chain as Greg thought or he was just trying to camouflage the fact that he was sporting wood without me even grinding on him.

The men continued ribbing each other while I kept my perch on Timmy’s lap, pretending to be engaged when really I was just wondering how much longer I had to keep up this charade before something happened.

“So you’re getting married, Timmy?” I asked when there was a lull in conversation thanks to a couple girls bringing over a tray of drinks, drawing the other men’s attentions their way.

“Yeah. Next month.”

“You don’t sound too excited about it,” I noted and plucked the cherry from his glass, bringing it to my lips and sucking it in. His eyes followed the movement and he visibly swallowed.

“I am,” he said, his eyes still fixed on my mouth.

“Then what is a nice boy like you doing here? Doesn’t really seem like your thing.” I tilted my head to the side, my hair swishing over my shoulder and drawing his attention down to the cleavage visible through the panels of my sheer one-piece. Timmy licked his lips and answered, “It’s not.”

I wasn’t surprised by his reply. His honesty only seemed to fuel my desire to prove I was desirable in the eyes of the men who patronized The Den. After being rejected over the last week by men clearly out for a good time, it was an out-of-control need I possessed to claim someone who wasn’t.

I leaned in close to his ear, my tongue snaking out to graze his lobe, making him shiver beneath me. “Am I your thing?”

“Yes,” he whispered. His hands went up to grip my waist again, only this time his hands landed higher, just under my breasts.

“Would you like to go back to my room and see what kind of naughty things we can do together?”

“I shouldn’t,” he protested, albeit weakly.

“What she won’t know won’t hurt her,” I encouraged, even though a small part of me felt sorry for his fiancée. If it were me, I wouldn’t want a woman trying to weaken my man’s resolve. Unfortunately for her, he came here to begin with, which meant he was fair game. Twisted logic? Probably, but it would help me sleep at night.

I could see Timmy’s inner struggle behind his eyes. He wanted it. He just needed something to push him over the edge.

Adjusting myself on his lap so I was positioned fully over his groin, I used my hands on his knees to lift my ass in the air slightly before grinding down over him. I faintly heard his groan over the music and smiled inside.

Timmy’s hands cupped my breasts and pulled me back flush against his chest. It made my inner muscles clench.

Wow, how aggressive of him.