Bending Bethany (8 page)

Allister stares at me and then nods. He knows when I’m not messing around. “No problem.”
 
He flicks one of the pictures against his palm, black Sharpie scrawled across the white strip at the bottom of the photo.

We always take the girls’ names, phone numbers and a quick picture as soon as they come in to apply. Even if they don’t end up working here, we try to establish we are here to help, if they need any help, and get some basic information right up front so we can keep track of everyone that comes in.

He steps toward me, ready to show me the photos, but I’m already up, coming around toward him. I’m grabbing my briefcase off the floor before he can even get close, taking my jacket off the hook, marching for the door.

Allister and I have been friends since we were in boot camp together a thousand years ago. We didn’t end up serving together, but those first weeks of hell bonded us, and we’ve been as close as family ever since. We’re even in height, his build being slightly leaner than mine. Besides working with each other, we work out together four days a week so there is not much we don’t know about each other.

“Here.” He jabs the photos toward me as I work my way to the door. Some guys might get off on the young women that come in for tryouts, but I’m not overly eager to look. It’s all work, we don’t play here. I’ve never touched one of the girls that works for me.

Fuck, I haven’t actually touched a woman in more years than I can count. And when I say touched, I mean as in an arm around the shoulder, or a kiss. No one but Allister knows this, and I doubt anyone would believe me, but that’s about all I’ve done with a woman. Nothing below the belt has ever happened.
 

Virgin.
 

Even the word sounds unbelievable to me, but it’s true. I’ve never been overly outgoing, except when it comes to running my business and getting shit done. I’m on the shy side and have never felt comfortable with women in general as far as relationships go. I gave up years ago thinking there was someone out there for me. I figure that part of life just isn’t in my stack of cards.

I know most of the guys that come in here sit there with their dicks hard, watching the harem of beauties that work here. They probably think that as the club owner, my cock samples all the goods. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I don’t even remember the last time I stroked off. If it’s not the real thing, I’m just not all that interested. And I guess I just haven’t met the real thing. And I probably never will.
 

So I stay focused on work. Not just making money, though that part isn’t awful either. But the other part. Seeing so many of these girls come in over the years looking for work, thinking it was just another seedy club where they would take their clothes off and bang customers in the bathroom for extra cash.

Then when they see what I’m doing here, they see a glimmer of hope for a different future. Since I had started my first club, I’ve gladly paid for my girls’ rehab, attorneys, GEDs, college tuition, and I’ve bashed in some pimps’ faces when they’ve tried to come get back what they think belongs to them.
 

It’s become my life and I’m proud of each of them when they go off into the world to become whatever is next. Some are now lawyers, PTA mothers, social workers, even doctors.

I take the pictures from Allister’s hand as I pass by and look down at the top photo as I step into the hallway, heading for the club floor.
 

I’m too tired to care much right now about what wayward young woman we may be able to help, but I pull my shoulders back and try to focus. This is important to me, I remind myself. I love the money I make, but I want to matter. I want to make a difference in someone’s life. That’s what gets me off.

There’s a tug on the skin covering my chest as I pull my shoulders back and the muscles stretch over the scars, reminding me of why I retired when I did from the military. I roll my neck around, trying to loosen the tightness as we get closer to the end of the hallway.

“I can handle it, boss.” Allister says from just behind my left shoulder, sensing my fatigue. “Just get your food, take off, leave it to me. Two of these girls look like they won’t last a day with your rules anyway. And the third,” he makes a noise in his throat, “she looks like she’s never been outside her nursery before. Although, you know, that innocent one has a rack on her. And a fucking ass for days. A little on the thick side, but different strokes for different folks. I guarantee she’s never seen the inside of a club before.”

I chuckle under my breath. Allister enjoys looking, and he and I don’t necessarily have the same taste but he’s a gentleman to his core.

“Who’s on the door tonight?” I ask, rubbing my chin with my other hand.

“Buzz,” he says with a huff.

“He’s on his last warning.” I second his huff. We try to help out everyone, guys as well, but I’m harder on them. I expect the men that work here to be gentlemen at all times as well, and Buzz seems to think this is his own private dick playground, and that shit does not fly.

“Yeah, I know. He’s trying my patience, and there isn’t much of that to begin with. When that little doe arrived I gave him the stare. He was looking at her like she was a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.”

Allister never touches any of the girls that work here either, but he’s a bit more outspoken than me. As we’re making our way down the hall I bring the three photos he stuffed into my hand into my line of vision.

I shoulder open the swinging door that separates the offices from the club floor, then glance down absently at the top photo just as I’m losing the bright light of the hallway for the dim flashing lights of the bar. And I feel like someone just shoved a taser down my pants.
 

There she is, standing across the room, same face as the one in the picture. She’s got her arms crossed, eyes looking around like she’s just landed on Mars.

I know it’s fucking impossible, but I swear I can smell her and it’s like some long forgotten scent suddenly bombarding me with feelings about this tiny, lush creature – a complete stranger.

My pace quickens and I’m making a beeline for the three girls standing where Allister left them waiting. Except I only really see one.

“I got this, old man.” Allister urges me to make my way home, but there’s no fucking way I’m leaving now. “Like I said, that little one isn’t half-bad, it’s just—”

“Shut up.” The anger in my voice shocks me.

All he’s doing is talking about her and I’m worked up like this. What the fuck is wrong with me? Thinking that he’s looked at her, that he’s had lustful thoughts about her, has me ready to turn against my best friend. I don’t know what this reaction is, but I do know; I don’t want anyone’s eyes on her except mine. The mere fact that she’s here applying for a position as a dancer has me ready to split heads.

“I’ll send the other two home. I’ll talk to this one.” I look down at the picture in my hand, then back up and my cock is filling my pants, something that has not once happened in all the years I’ve run these clubs and been around these girls. Whoever this little sweet-tart is, she’s managed to move things inside me I wasn’t sure were still moveable.

A rush of blood through my ears blocks out the music and ambient sounds of the club. Heat radiates from my core and I’m drawn into a vortex of something long forgotten. I want her in ways I didn’t realize I could want. Some primal part of me stirs and I know what I’ve been waiting for is right here.

Right now.

Now I have to go and make sure she knows she’s claimed.

Check out Where She Belongs now on Kindle Unlimited! It’s one of my favorite safe love stories!

http://amzn.to/2arwbSu

Enjoy an extended excerpt of my bestselling modern fairytales
Black
and
White!

BLACK

ARIA COLE

One

Maxwell

I gazed out the crystalline windows from a dark corner in the quaint library, taking in the vibrant green of the town common and the gently lapping waves of the aqua lake beyond. My eyes took in the silvered sparkle of sunlight highlighting each small crest before it kissed the shore and receded back again. My thoughts spun away with me as I watched, feeling anxious as I hid away in this tiny upstate town, watching the world from this tiny library window.

I’d spent summers swimming in that lake, the two months of the year it was warm enough for swimming. I remembered the warmth caressing my skin and sending jolts of vitamin D energy running through my cells. Playing catch and running improvised bases in the town common as a boy. I remembered those days so fondly, but fear had strangled pleasure these last few years and chained me like a beast in the cellar.

I loved this library more than myself. My life was imprinted into the inky pages of these hardbacks. My heart came alive as I passed through the aisles, my fingers ghosting along the dusty covers. I liked being locked up here. At least most days. Human contact was best kept at minimum; I’d quickly come to realize that. Sitting up here alone in my palace suited me. I paid the bag boy to deliver my food. I scheduled the mail to come directly to my steps instead of the post office box. I didn’t do gatherings, holidays were pointless as I didn’t have anyone to spend them with, and Sunday afternoons in the park were in the far distant past.

I missed the sunlight on my skin all afternoon, bronzing the body and easing away the anxiety. But after that night—the night that changed my life and left me with so many scars, visible and internal—I hadn’t been able to step outside in public for fear of the shame. The ridicule. The flat-out gawking. Call it what you like, but I wasn’t one for subjecting myself to judgment, and the people in this town had stockpiles of it.

I might have grown up here, I might have been the town’s golden boy at one time, but not anymore.

Now I was the moody bastard that lived above the library and had a fucking panic attack every time I left the castle. Every time I descended those three steps, flashbacks overtook me, my heart raced and my palms tingled, and a sense of revenge so large hit me it was nearly debilitating. The only time I saw anyone was when they came into my library. Human contact was best in minimal doses. I allowed people into my sanctuary in very controlled doses, from nine to four each day, and never on weekends. Small talk with the librarian strongly discouraged.

Thankfully, I didn’t need to announce that last part. The scar did that for me.

I ran a finger across the worn copy of
The Count of Monte Cristo
I kept at my desk. Not a library book, but mine. A treasured edition. Books were the only things that had been with me through it all. I’d never found solace in people; I’d found nothing but pain and betrayal and lies. Books provided shelter and support and encouragement.

Once in a great while, I allowed myself the privilege of sitting out on the small stoop of the library when the sun was shining bright and only first thing in the morning, before the rest of the town awoke. But despite my disdain for people, I loved sharing books. Sharing the written word with people who could really feel a story and understand it, could sense the loss and blip of anxiety that shudders the heart when you close the pages on a favorite book. I wanted people to feel that.

I liked sharing the fantasy.

But was this my fantasy? My eyes crawled across the polished woodwork I’d sanded and stained tirelessly through the night to restore when I’d decided to open the place. The Spruce Lake Public Library was my dream come true, but I found myself craving more. I hadn’t been on a date in years. What was the point? It felt like I’d have too much to hide because baring my dark soul would surely send any woman running the other way.

But sometimes, on the nights that my thoughts overtook me, I dared to hope for someone to share my life with. I dreamed of a girl with eyes that sparkled, a laugh that made me weak in the knees, and a heart so big she could fit mine in it. Someone who could see past the moody, abrasive demeanor, and the thousand quirks that made me a man unlike any other.

Someone who could see past the scar and into my soul.

A revelation sliced through my heart. For the first time ever, I wanted to feel love.

I’d just never found a woman brave enough to love a man like me.

The sun began its slow descent behind the horizon as I pulled my thoughts away from all the things that were too painful for me to consider before noticing it was officially closing time. I took long strides across the gleaming wood before turning the latch and flipping the sign on the door. Closed. Just a few more tasks and then I could retreat to my sanctuary upstairs for the rest of the night.

I returned to the circulation desk and gathered a small pile of returned books into my arms before setting off down the aisles to re-shelve them. I turned a corner and growled when I saw that the irresponsible little shits that’d been here earlier had pulled out dozens of titles, reading and giggling in the back corner of my library after school for the sole purpose of my intense irritation, and not returned the books to their proper homes.

“Damn,” I cursed as a quick
rap, rap
on the front door sent a bundle of hardbacks crashing to my feet.

I took my time, lifting the books from the floor and placing them back on the shelf with care—this was a library not a zoo, and I wished all kids under the age of eighteen could be barred from this sacred space. They didn’t have respect for the written word. Not yet. That took time, experience, an appreciation for the blood, sweat, and tears of life.

Rap, rap, rap.

I stalked from among the aisles, my eyes steering to the door as fat drops of rain rinsed down the windows, a drowned out creature staring back at me, large brown eyes as wide as saucers as I approached.

“What the hell?” I murmured as I twisted the heavy latch that I’d locked only two minutes ago, at closing time. “Closed,” I growled on reflex upon opening the door. A meek little creature soaked and in a rush. Her sweet, rain-dampened scent curled around my nostrils as she shuffled into my library. She stripped off her dripping coat and scarf, hanging it on the small rack just inside the door before running one hand through dark, tangled locks and sending a new burst of her scent into my nostrils. My eyes closed for a moment as I soaked it up, my thighs tightening and cock flexing with increased arousal.