Chapter 26

ASHER

The music blares, a spotlight illuminating the center of the stage. A blonde girl steps into the light. She’s clad in nothing but a red lace bra and thong, the fabric hugging her pale skin just the way I like.

There are no visible bruises; she’s not too skinny, and she doesn’t seem scared. I hate that she doesn’t seem scared.

Then, she begins to dance. I can’t help myself; she’s incredibly attractive.

She’s so hot that my body reacts, betraying me in a way no one else ever has. I hate it. I watch her twirl around the pole, her leg supporting her weight as she executes some impressive moves.

But she doesn’t stay on the pole for long, slithering on the floor like a temptress before she comes to give me a lap dance.

I feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because I find her attractive.

Uncomfortable because she’s so close that I can feel her body heat seeping into mine. Uncomfortable because I have to hide my true feelings and maintain a facade of indifference when all I want to do is flip her over and lose myself in her.

But that’s not why I’m here; that’s not my goal.

I don’t want to sleep with this girl or pretend to assault her. I want to save her…

“That’s enough, Tiffany. NEXT,” Mr. Fennick commands in his deep voice.

Tiffany stands up and leaves immediately. I watch her exit through the door by the bar.

“If a young athletic blonde isn’t your thing, what is?” He asks me, a finger on his lips. I guess I managed to keep my face neutral; thank God.

“I don’t know—that’s the problem,” I lie.

I don’t know why I said that, but I did, and I guess that’s the story I’m sticking to.

“Come on now, Asher. I’ve heard the rumors about the bad boy prince who likes to break the rules. You know what you like. I’m not your father. Your dreams can come true here; you just have to embrace them,” he says, intrigued.

Another girl comes out, a short brunette who looks a bit like Maddison, though she’s curvier and already looks bored.

She glances at me, surprise in her eyes, and begins a slow, sensual dance.

She doesn’t bother with the stage, and to my dismay, she removes her bra to reveal her large breasts.

They’re a good size—double Ds with nipples big enough to fully suck—and she gets more of a reaction than Tiffany.

She’s cute, and under different circumstances, I might take her to bed, but that’s not why I’m here. And I won’t be taking her tonight.

Still, she tries her best to get a reaction.

She straddles my lap and guides my hands to her breasts. They’re clearly fake; I can feel the implants beneath the skin, and while that’s not a huge turn-off, it’s one reason I wouldn’t take her to bed.

I prefer my women natural.

“Nope! NEXT,” Mr. Fennick orders, startling both of us as if we’ve been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

“That’s enough, Rachel. Thank you for your time.”

Rachel returns my hands to me, blowing kisses as she leaves.

And like Tiffany, she doesn’t seem unhappy or like she doesn’t want to be here.

“Send out Alice,” Mr. Fennick bellows.

“What’s your kink, boy?”

I shrug, relieved that I’ve managed to keep my arousal since Tiffany a secret.

“Don’t worry; I cater to all tastes. I’ll find your kink, boy. Let’s enlighten both of us.”

The next girl—or rather woman—enters the room. She’s clearly older, but she’s aged like fine wine.

She must be in her late forties, with lines on her face in the usual places, but she’s still naturally beautiful.

But it’s not her looks that give her age away. Her hands show the most signs of age, as they do in most women, but more than that, she exudes a confidence the other girls lacked.

“Oh, we have a young one,” she observes as she approaches me in her corset, suspenders, and thong.

She’s different from the other two, standing tall in heels that make her legs look like they go on forever.

“Do you enjoy being with older women? Are you into cougars?” she asks, her tone suggesting she genuinely enjoys her job.

Her question catches me off guard. She’s the third woman I’ve met tonight, not counting Maddison, and they all seem to be content with their line of work.

I nod in response because who wouldn’t appreciate the experience of an older woman?

She laughs heartily, throwing her head back in a way that reminds me of my mother. My mom does the same thing when my dad whispers something naughty in her ear.

I’m relieved to find that the image effectively kills any arousal I might have felt.

“Stop!” I command when her hand ventures too close to my crotch, her approach more aggressive than the other women.

I grab her wrist, holding it away from me as if she’s something unpleasant.

There’s something about her that I can’t get past, all because of that image of my mother laughing.

“So, not girls your own age, not older women who know their way around…” Mr. Fennick muses, watching us with a thoughtful smirk.

Alice snaps her fingers in front of my face, pulling my attention back to the room, back to her.

She’s asking me to release her wrist, and I immediately regret holding her so roughly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you so hard,” I apologize, my voice uncertain.

“No problem. Maybe, Roger, you should try the younger ones,” she suggests.

Her words hang in the air as she turns to leave, the music softening from a pounding beat to a gentle hum.

“Maybe she’s onto something. Is that your thing, Asher?”

“What thing?” I ask, shifting in my chair to find a more comfortable position.

“Younger girls,” he announces, clapping his hands as if he’s discovered the secret to getting a reaction out of me.

“Hope?” he calls out.

“HOPE!” he yells, his patience wearing thin.

She bursts into the room, her gaze fixed on me as if I’m her worst nightmare.

It’s as if she knows exactly what he’s going to ask for.

The underage girls.

The damn underage girls.

This must be why she didn’t want me to come in.

She must have suspected that I would request the young girls trapped in this building.

The ones she claimed weren’t here.

Could it be that I’ve stumbled upon the jackpot in this one club, the first one I decided to visit?

“Yes, Mr. Fennick?” Maddison’s voice trembles, revealing her anxiety. Her hands flutter nervously in front of her as she struggles to find something to do with them.

“Bring me a few of the underage girls, will you?” he orders.

Her face is a mask of fear as she absorbs his words. She moves away from us, her movements stiff and robotic, as if she needs to distance herself to hide her disgust.

“Actually, Hope, bring me Miracle and Spitfire,” he commands.

Maddison freezes, her anxiety filling the room, and Mr. Fennick clearly doesn’t appreciate it.

I can’t help but watch him as he watches her battle with herself.

“Now, Hope!”

“Of course,” she mumbles unhappily before walking away.