Tell Me No Lies
A 1Night Stand Story
by
Mahalia Levey
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Mahalia Levey
ISBN: 978-1-61333-226-9
Cover art by LFD Designs
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Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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Also by Mahalia Levey
Burn Me if You Can
A 1Night Stand Story
The Price of Defiance
~DEDICATION~
To the fans, because you make everything worth it!
Chapter One
The throbbing beat of the music broke. “Autumn to main stage. Cara to backstage.”
As the sounds resumed, Caileigh, known at the club as Autumn, grimaced. “I’m up.”
“Thank you, lovely, for the dance.”
“You’re welcome. Save another for me.” She slid off the lap of her favorite regular. He kept his hands to himself and treated her with respect. Many others got ass grabby or groped her breasts without permission. Not Trent. He gave her his special wink as she headed front stage for her two number set. Multiple times he’d asked her to leave the club and offered a better life. She knew better than to believe in empty promises. Some of her closest friends had followed that dream with their own regulars, only to return broken hearted.
She’d worked at Uptown’s Gentlemen’s Club for two years, so far. Though the title was flashy and the interior immaculate, she felt an air of darkness in its black-lighted environs whenever she worked. Evil didn’t lurk far, but the “bring your own beer” joint brought in the dollars and dancers wanting an “in” waited their turn on a long list. The club ensured the patron’s hard-earned paper went directly into the G-strings of the dancers, who in return paid the house fee and a cut to the bouncers and the DJ.
The previous performer cleaned the pole and mirrors with a spray disinfectant and fresh towel. Since they all wore slippery, glitter-laced lotions, an unwashed pole was not only nasty, but a slip and fall hazard. Caileigh inhaled the crisp, lemon scent, waved her friend off stage, and waited for the music to cue.
She stretched her legs and ground her seven-inch stiletto, thigh-high boots across the floor, testing her grip patch. Picking the right music meant more money, so she had spent a few moments scanning the crowd before deciding which CD to hand to the DJ at the start of the evening. Most patrons expected the performers to dance to rap and do nothing but floor routines and ass claps—not that she didn’t…sometimes. But Caileigh saved those for when college students came into the club in droves.