Hunted: Chapter 6

We arrive back at Lexi’s with so many bags I’ve lost count. Poor Sean even had to carry some up to the apartment for us. Apparently, according to Lexi, I needed a lot of new clothes, so after Schmidt’s, we headed west to Oxford Street and spent a small fortune there as well, which also counts as expenses according to Lexi. She whipped out a Grey’s company card no less, so she must know what she’s talking about.

It’s late afternoon, so we basically have to dump our bags and head straight to Grey’s for my training before the evening begins.

Pulling up outside of the club, it looks even more inconspicuous in the daylight, just like any other building on what appears to be a residential street. We head to the side door, and once again, Ryan opens it; his eyes go straight past Lexi to lock with mine.

“Good afternoon, Laura,” he says in that deliciously deep voice of his.

“G-good afternoon, Ryan,” I stutter back, blushing furiously.

“Good afternoon, Ryan,” Lexi teases him, smirking when he squirms a little, realising that he totally ignored her.

“Hi, Lexi,” he replies, and his cheeks flush.

“Can we come in, or are you gonna make us stand out on the street all night?” she sasses back, and he hurriedly moves aside, stumbling out an apology.

She links her arm through mine, pulling me inside and leaning her head so close I can smell her expensive perfume. “Oh girl, he’s got it bad,” she laughs, and I look back to see Ryan still looking after me, an intense look in his brown eyes.

My heart does a little flutter, which is promptly squashed by guilt. I left Tom behind not a week ago, and here I am starting to crush on another guy. Never mind the fact that I’m pregnant! A bubble of worry is added to the guilt at that thought. I won’t be able to hide my pregnancy forever, and then what will I do?

I just can’t worry about that right now, I think to myself, shaking my head. We continue on to a side room that’s been set aside as a dressing room of sorts for all of the girls. This, too, is guarded at all times by a burly security guy who nods at our approach. Stepping inside, we’re engulfed by feminine chatter and a cloud of different perfumes all merging together in an overwhelming fog.

“Ladies!” I hear the camp tones of Justin, to whom I was introduced to last night, call out and see him hurrying towards us. He’s Grey’s dresser and sources all the costumes and anything else that Grey’s girls need whilst they’re here.

He air kisses both of us, and I take in his outfit. He’s wearing a sharp collared floral shirt, a silk scarf, fitted trousers, and killer black patent heels. His straw-coloured blond hair is styled to perfection in a quiff, and he has a wonderful moustache that he curls upwards so that, with his goatee, he looks like the character from the KFC adverts.

“Lexi darling, I’ve laid the Westwood red sequins out for you tonight,” he tells her, shooing her over to her dressing table, rail, and mirror. Yep, that’s right, Vivienne Westwood designs all the girl’s outfits.

“Laura, Schmidt just delivered your uniform so chop chop!”

He rushes me over to an empty dressing table where I can see a rail with a white shirt, grey pencil skirt, and grey fitted waistcoat hanging. There’s a pair of shiny black heels resting on the floor next to the rail, and as I approach, I see that they’re Jimmy Choo brand. No expense spared, I guess. On the table is a push-up red lace bra, matching thong and suspender belt, and sheer stockings with a seam running up the back of them.

He stands by whilst I get changed, not batting an eye at the bruises that I expose for the second time today. He does help me clip the back of the stockings in place but leaves me to wiggle into the pencil skirt. Luckily, the back has a modest split, otherwise, I’m not sure I’d be able to walk in it. Slipping my feet into the heels, grateful that I’m used to wearing ones of a similar height, I straighten up to see a frown marring his brow.

“What?” I ask, looking into the floor-length mirror on the wall beside me. The bra has made the most of my bust and combined with the skirt and fitted waistcoat, I look like I’ve got more of an hourglass figure than I actually have. My eyes float to my neck, and I see what Justin’s problem is. There’s a ring of purple bruises that look exactly like what they are; fingerprints.

As I’m staring at my reflection, I see Justin whip off his colourful silk scarf, then he wraps it around my neck a couple of times and ties a little knot to one side. I look like a fifties air hostess, but it’s pretty hot if I do say so myself.

“There,” he says with a nod and a smile before his attention is caught by one of the others, and he rushes off to help her.

I gaze at my reflection once more, amazed at the girl staring back at me. She looks confident and beautiful, with her stunning figure and made up face, and you’d never know that just days ago she was in a place far away and full of darkness.

“Stop admiring your beautiful arse, and let’s show you the ropes!” Lexi calls out from the other side of the room.

Courage, I tell myself, taking a deep breath and heading into the unknown.

Hours later, I throw myself down on my bed with a whoosh of breath. I don’t even know what time it is, two maybe three AM? It’s late, or I suppose early depending on how you look at it, and I’m cream crackered!

The night was…interesting? Eye opening? It was both and so much more. The bar work wasn’t difficult, taking orders down in the basement, then going to the bar at the back and bringing the drinks to the tables. Each table has a pole and is surrounded by four dark leather wing-back chairs so each table has a dancer.

And the girls are phenomenal dancers…who happen to take their clothes off. There are women of every race, colour, and dancing to suit every taste. Interestingly, many of the patrons, or members, seemed more interested in talking with each other than ogling the girls. They’re great tippers at least. I don’t know what the girls made tonight, but I must have made around five hundred pounds in tips.

They were all on their best behaviour, no touching allowed. That is unless you get a private room upstairs, then a contract is written, dictating any boundaries and signed by all parties. There’s also a smoking lounge on the upper floors and another bar that I may work at some nights.

My first night flew by, and before I knew it, Lexi and I were being driven back by Sean to Lexi’s riverside apartment. After taking a quick shower, I’m snuggled in the comfy bed, my eyelids drooping, yet my mind whirling with all that has happened over the past few days.

I can’t believe how different my life is in such a short space of time. I never dreamed that not only would I break free from Ace and his toxic hold, but I’d find friends for the first time in my life. The girls are all so nice, especially Lexi, and I can see myself being happy here.

A bubble of anxiety bursts in my stomach. I’ve no idea what I’ll do once I start showing. I mean, I doubt they’d want a pregnant waitress, and I’ve never heard of a pregnant stripper, or if that would even be an option?

Stop it! Stop worrying about what is yet to come! I internally scold myself. One day at a time.