Riding on Instinct
Page 11Like he cared.
Maria’s music was more up-tempo—more sax, grinding and hot and sexy. Colorful lights swirled all around the stage, and a spotlight hit the entryway.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the deejay said in a booming voice, “give it up for the one, the only, the dynamite seductress of the night, Vixen!”
Spence let out a laugh. Vixen was Maria’s stage name. It fit her really well as she burst through the doorway, larger than life in a skintight white bra and boy shorts, a matching white jacket and leather hat, and white calf-high boots. She was a vision, with her tanned skin and dark, flowing hair a contrast to all that virginal white, which he supposed was the idea. As Maria moved center stage, she grabbed the pole and swung around, at the same time peeling off her jacket and flinging it to the floor. She had generous breasts that spilled over the top of a very small bra, and as she worked the pole, she reached behind her and unfastened the bra, letting the back loose but not removing the top.
The crowd went crazy, whistling for her to remove the top. By now she was at the bottom of the pole, riding it between her legs, and tantalizing the crowd by holding on to the cups of her bra. When she let it go, releasing her enormous breasts, the sound of cheering was deafening. She stayed on her knees and undulated around the floor, letting her voluptuous body and long legs do the talking, playing up to the guys at the edge of the stage, crooking her finger to invite them up close and personal to her breasts, and after they paid homage with their money, using her killer shoes to push them away. She had bodyguards to protect her in case anyone got out of hand, but it was all playful fun and the guys knew the rules. They wanted to stay right where they were and unless someone was stone-cold drunk on their ass, they wouldn’t risk getting tossed from the club. Because once you got thrown out of Angel’s Gate, you weren’t allowed back in. Ever.
Besides, Maria had pretty much mesmerized the guys from the front row to the back of the bar with her smooth, sexy moves. Money was flying over Spence’s head and onto the stage, men pushing at his back for a chance to tuck money into her G-string.
Yeah, she knew how to work it, all right.
She was on the stage for about three minutes, and bills covered the floor and her G-string by the time she was done.
The lights came back up and the deejay started spinning dance tunes. Girls climbed into the cages to gyrate and entertain, the next stripper came on to strut her stuff, and customers went to refill beers and stretch their legs.
Maria was good. Damn good. She was going to be a tough act to follow. The only thing that would work in Shadoe’s benefit was that the night was growing later, alcohol flowed, the crowd was fired up and getting hammered, which meant they’d probably be oblivious to any mistakes she made. As long as she got naked and moved around the stage, they’d be happy. After all, guys came in to see naked women.
And he’d be there to keep an eye out in case anyone decided to get rowdy. Not that he expected to be needed. There were plenty of bouncers to keep the women safe.
Still, Shadoe was different. She wasn’t an actual employee of the club, had no experience with this slice of life. He’d snuck into Grange’s office today and taken a quick look at Agent Grayson’s file. She was clean-cut middle-class with a by-the-rules military daddy. Parents divorced when Shadoe was twelve, and mother gave up custody. As far as he could tell, she’d never made contact with Shadoe again. What woman would do that?
Then again, Spence shouldn’t be surprised. He knew all about worthless parents.
Shadoe had gone to an all-girls Catholic school from kindergarten through high school. He could well imagine how strict her father had been, how sheltered she’d been at private school. From there she’d attended a small, very exclusive college, got her master’s after that, and entered the academy.
This assignment must be hell for her.
Then again, it was good to step outside your comfort zone. Shadoe had been sheltered too long. She’d never survive in her job with the department living in a cave. Might as well start with a good trial by fire like this assignment. If she survived this one, she could do anything.
Though he did feel kind of sorry for her being thrust into this atmosphere right out of the gate. And surrounded by guys like him as partners. He smiled. Yeah, trial by fire was right.
The lights went down and the deejay came on again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat tonight. A brand-new act, coming to you under the wing of our very own Vixen. Vixen thinks this hot babe has some serious talent, and she wants you all to pay close attention. Now let’s give it up for Desi!”
Desi? Spence snorted. Of course she wouldn’t use her real name. None of the girls ever did.
Instead of music, Spence heard a low, throaty rumble that sounded all too familiar, followed by the loud roar of pipes.
Motorcycle.
He smiled at the sound of revving engines. White smoke filled the walkway, and the music of Steppenwolf’s “Born to Be Wild” cranked up loud and heavy, as purple black-light lit up the stage.
Shadoe wasn’t tentative as she stepped through all that smoke, twirled around in a circle, and continued to march forward with all the confidence in the world.
Spence’s tongue nearly dropped to the floor as Shadoe strutted down the walkway dressed in a black fringed vest cut down to her navel, revealing just a hint of cleavage. The vest stopped midway down, revealing her narrow waist and iron-flat stomach, the diamond piercing glittering in all the lights. She was darkly tanned, much more than she had been before. Her legs were covered in black leather chaps. As she turned around to grab the pole and do a quick twirl around it, he realized they were authentic chaps, the kind you wore on a bike. The butt of the chaps was cut out, revealing her nice, tight ass encased in only a G-string.
Holy shit. That was one sexy outfit. A biker’s dream, guaranteed instant hard-on.
To hell with a biker’s dream. Every guy’s dream, evidenced by guys launching to their feet and going crazy, waving money and cheering her on. Shadoe seemed to love every minute of it, her dark eyes sparkling as she threw off attitude while she twirled around on the pole, pulling off the chaps to the rowdy catcalls of the customers, then slowly unzipping the leather vest. She wore knee-high leather boots with a spiky high heel, and walked on them like she knew what the hell she was doing.
He’d been to strip clubs thousands of times, had sat back, drank beers, watched naked women parade before him for hours on end, women who had tons more experience than Shadoe, who knew the tricks of their sexuality and used them to their fullest extent.
Not once had any of them gotten him hard.
Until now.
As Shadoe turned around, her hands covering her breasts, her gaze shot to his and her lips lifted in a knowing smile. She moved toward him, raised her hands over her head, and revealed her breasts, dusky nipples hard and thrusting out as she bounced around the stage. When she crouched down in front of him, spreading her knees apart in a provocative pose, she gave him a look that shot straight to his balls.
He tried to remain nonchalant, like she wasn’t affecting him, but it was damn hard.
Damn, was it ever hard.
She moved away to work the crowd clamoring near the edge of the stage and the money went flying. Spence gripped the edge of his chair as she scooted her hip to the edge of the stage while she danced, crouching down low enough to give all the guys a close look. No touching was allowed, but when their hair started brushing across her breasts while they slid money into her G-string, Spence found his fingers clenching into a fist. Especially since Shadoe seemed to be very, very popular. But no sooner would some guy nuzzle close to her breasts than she’d smile down at him and move away to the other side of the stage to give the guys there some attention.
When her dance was over and she blew kisses to the crowd, they cheered, long after she disappeared through the stage opening.
Spence exhaled.
Shadoe might not be an experienced stripper, but she had a natural, smoldering sexuality that surfaced once she hit the stage. He’d seen a glimpse of it yesterday when she’d danced for him, and she’d blasted it full force tonight. She’d rocked his cock into full awareness, something not easy to do since he was pretty much jaded to these sorts of events.
Or so he’d thought.
Now he was hard and throbbing and cranky as hell about it. He had to wait a few minutes, down the rest of his beer, and think about anything other than hot, naked Shadoe in black leather before he could get up from his seat and move around. He stepped outside to get some air, though the hot flash of Dallas humidity didn’t help cool him down.
Why the hell did she get to him like that? He knew the stripper shtick. It was all an act, a performance and nothing more. Only morons and drunks fell for it, and he was neither, yet one shake of her hips and a wink and she had him drooling, dick in hand, eager for more.
No. He wasn’t. He just liked hot chicks in leather. Shadoe had played to his fantasies perfectly. But it was by accident. She had no idea what turned him on.
He’d been totally off base about her. She could move, she could strip, and she could play to the crowd. Maybe in her regulation uniform she was a pinched tightass, but put her in sexy gear and she was one hell of an actress who could play the part of stripper perfectly.
He turned around and went back inside, fetched a beer from the bartender, and leaned against the cushioned edge of the bar, watching one of the girls swirl around the pole. He’d lost his seat at the front of the stage, but didn’t care. He’d seen all he needed. Now that Shadoe had danced he could leave if he wanted to, but figured he’d stick around for a while longer.
He searched the bar, but didn’t see Shadoe anywhere. Typically after the strippers did their thing on the stage, they mingled around the crowds, stopping at the tables to encourage the customers to buy drinks, or to offer up lap dances. He smiled at that thought. Would Shadoe be willing to do a lap dance for a guy? Probably not, though most of the club owners would require it. Then again, if she was going to be billed as a feature stripper, they didn’t have to do lap dances. They were there strictly to dance on stage, maybe mill around and talk to the customers, but no lap dances. Feature strippers were VIPs.
He finally spotted her, walking through the side door with Maria beside her. All eyes in the place turned to them as they strolled confidently among the clients, smiling and stopping along the way to chat.
Spence couldn’t get over how hot she looked dressed again in her leather getup, with her hair curled and sweeping in long waves over her shoulders, nothing like the way it had looked yesterday, pulled back severely against her head.
He sank back into the darkness and watched her while she worked the crowd. She didn’t stick so close to Maria that she looked unsure of herself. Instead, she branched out on her own and talked to the guys, tilted her head back and laughed when someone said something to her.
She was charming. And the more she wandered around and talked, the more guys followed her.
His stomach churned at the way the men leered at her. What were they thinking, that she was going to take one of them home with her?
Now there were some morons.
What he did notice was that the club’s bodyguards hung close to Maria, making sure the overly large group of men didn’t get too close to her. Which left Shadoe unguarded. And the cluster of guys surrounding her thickened in one corner. She had no way out now.