Hunky Daddies For An Innocent Lady

Elle felt her stomach churn, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake her. Standing in the parking lot, she couldn't bring herself to enter the brick building with the bright neon sign.

Pepper.

This was a mistake. She couldn't go through with it. Placing a hand on her belly and another over her mouth, she tried to steady herself. It was hopeless. If she couldn't even step inside, she was doomed.

As she shivered in the cold Montana night, her phone rang. She reluctantly checked the caller ID. It was April, of course. She had to answer or face endless nagging.

"Hey, Hairy Tits," Elle answered.

"Are you there yet?" April's voice came through.

"Yeah, I'm here," Elle replied, eyeing the building nervously.

April sighed. "You're still outside, aren't you?"

Elle hesitated. "Yes, I am."

"Droopy Bum, you have to go in if you want the job," April urged.

Fear gripped Elle. She knew that. But she couldn't bring herself to take that first step.

"I'm terrified."

"Elle," April said softly. "You don't have to do this."

Except she kind of did. She had seven hundred and eighty-three dollars in her bank account. Which didn't sound too bad. Except her rent was due next week. And that was six-fifty for the month. Then there were the gas, electric, and co-pay bills. Plus, she had to feed Brooks. She could go without food, but her nephew needed to eat. Thank God the scholarship he'd won covered his meal plan at school. It was one less meal she had to worry about.

But he was a sixteen-year-old boy. He needed healthy food and plenty of it.

She was failing him.

"I wish I didn't have to, but I do," she replied.

"You know that you and Brooks can come and live with me and Daddy."

It was sweet of April to offer. She lived in Wyoming with her mountain man husband, who was also her Daddy. And while she knew that Trent would agree with April, she also knew it would be an imposition to have her and Brooks come stay with them.

"Brooks is in an excellent school here. One of the best. He has an amazing scholarship. We'd have to start over in Wyoming. I don't know if I could give him the same there."

"Honey, Brooks will do well wherever he is. You know that. I don't think Brooks is the real issue."

No. He wasn't. April was right. Brooks would adapt. She was the one who didn't want to move, who couldn't leave the place where all her memories of Joe were.

"I n-need to try to make it work here. Last s-shot." For her. For Brooks. And for her memories of Joe.

"You need to get inside before you catch pneumonia and Daddy and I have to come get you and force you back home with us."

"Right." Good plan. Since parts of her were starting to grow numb and she could feel her nose running.

Not a good look.

"You got this, Elle. Caramel said Pepper is a great place to work. The owner treats the girls well. They make awesome tips."

Caramel was April's cousin and the only reason that Elle was here right now.

"You can do this. You're an amazing dancer. And you will knock their socks off. All you've gotta do is show a bit of skin."

She had been an amazing dancer. Before everything in her life had imploded. Now, the only dancing she did was in the living room of her one-bedroom apartment.

"I've never danced while taking off my clothes. What if they don't like what they see? I'm not as young as I used to be. I have cellulite and my tummy is round rather than flat. What if I'm taking something off, trip and fall, and show everyone my hoo-ha?"

"Then I'm sure you'll get excellent tips."

"April, I'm not joking. This is . . . I can't."

"Then come here."

"I . . . I . . ."

"Elle, have you got any other choices?"

April knew she didn't.

"It's not nice to be right all the time."

"Sorry," April replied, but Elle could tell she was grinning.

"Next time we talk, it's my turn to be right," Elle informed her.

"Problem with that is that I'm always right. Have you got your outfit?"

"I've got it on under my coat." There wasn't much to the outfit, which was part of the reason she was freezing. She hadn't been able to afford anything new, and so she'd bought material from thrift stores and managed to create it with what she got. It was neon pink, and she thought it looked pretty good.

At least it covered the major things and still showed skin. She just hoped it was enough.

"Done your stretches?"

"Yes."

"Got Slowly with you?"

"Yep, he's in my bag." Hopefully, Slowly the Sloth brought her some good luck. Joe had given him to her years ago, and the stuffed toy was her most prized possession.

"Celebratory jelly beans?"

"Yep."

"Just pretend you're acting a part. You used to love acting and dancing."

She had.

She wished she could find that joy again. She used to always be happy, smiling, seeing the good in life.

That had become harder the more life beat her down.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm off to do something I don't want to do either," April told her suddenly.

"What's that?"

"Corner time. It's the pits. Way worse than having to take your clothes off for money."

Elle had to grin. "I'm sure it is. What did you do this time?"

"I might have gone out on the ATV. On my own."

"April." Elle shook her head, dancing around to warm herself up. Even though her feet protested. The only shoes she'd been able to find at the thrift store were a size too small, and they were killing her. "You know you're not allowed to do that."

"I know. Now I'm in trouble. It's corner time and a spanking for me."

"I'm surprised you were allowed to call me."

"Hmm, I might have lied and told Trent that I needed to make an urgent work call."

"Did you just?" a deep voice said.

April squealed. "Daddy! I didn't see you there."

"I bet you didn't. Work call, huh? Little one, you just added on ten with my belt for lying."

Ouch.

Elle couldn't imagine anyone taking their belt to her backside. That seemed like it would really hurt. She'd never even been spanked before. Joe had threatened to several times when she did something he thought was dangerous. But that was all it was.

Joe had been a Daddy Dom. And while he'd sometimes taken care of her while she was in Little headspace, it had all been very platonic. One friend looking out for another.

Even though one of those friends had wanted more.

Had he ever known that she'd wanted more than friendship?

Maybe you should have told him.

Maybe. And perhaps she would have lost him. She'd never know now. What she did know was that he had trusted her to take care of his son. Which meant that she needed money so she could give Brooks the best life possible.

"I better let you go," Elle said quickly.

"Get in there and kill it, babe," April said quickly. "Don't worry about anything else but dancing, yeah?"

"Elle's going dancing?" Trent asked. "On her own? Where is she going?"

She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she heard the genuine concern in his voice. Lord, she missed that. Having someone who cared.

"I'll explain later, Daddy," April stated. "Get inside before you freeze, Droopy Bum. I'll call to check in. If I'm not grounded. Daddy's grumpy mountain face is on, so I might not be able to call for the rest of the year."

Elle finished the call with a smile, then turned her attention back to the building, her expression turning serious.

I've got this.

I can handle this.

After dabbing her nose with a tissue, she approached the door and pressed the buzzer. The club wasn't due to open for another hour, but the door swung open swiftly, revealing a stunning, tall woman with long dark hair. She was dressed in tight, black faux leather pants and a partially unbuttoned red shirt that revealed a black bra underneath.

She might have been attractive if her expression wasn't so harsh.

"Yes?" she inquired haughtily.

"Um, hi, I'm Elle."

The woman continued to stare at her.

"Elle Smith. I have an audition at eight-fifteen."

Elle noticed a small piece of spinach lodged between the other woman's front teeth. It was quite an eyesore, and she felt compelled to inform her about it. However, upon checking her watch, Elle realized that she wasn't actually late. She had a couple of minutes to spare, which was unusual for her since she preferred to be early. Nevertheless, she didn't think the woman would appreciate hearing about the fifteen minutes she had spent panicking in the parking lot.

The temptation to flee was strong. Elle had been searching for a reason to escape, and now she had one. But she pondered on her other options. Reluctantly, she pushed aside her fears and mustered a bright smile. "Who are you?" she asked, trying to maintain a positive demeanor.

The other woman simply sniffed and looked down her nose at Elle. Clearly, she wasn't impressed.

"It's not eight-fifteen yet," Elle pointed out, hoping to defend herself.

"Everyone else was here early," the woman retorted.

Elle plastered on a cheerful smile, determined to kill her with kindness. "That's fantastic! I'm here now, though. And technically, I'm not late."

The woman's face tightened, and she scrutinized Elle from head to toe. "Interviewing you would be a waste of time. You're too old and overweight."

Ouch. That stung. Elle couldn't deny that she carried more weight than she should, but stress had a way of making her turn to food. If she landed this job, she would have the opportunity to be more active and afford healthier meals.

She was pretty sure that her teeth would rot if she kept eating cady, and just this morning, a huge clump of hair had come out.

Of course, she had been tugging on her hair at the time as she'd tried to work out her finances.

Adulting was so hard sometimes.

She envied April. Sure, would probably have trouble sitting tomorrow, but she had a man who loved her. A Daddy who took care of her. Who gave her a safe space to be who she wanted to be.

She threw her shoulders back. She wasn't going to let this woman make her feel bad. What was wrong with boobs and ass and a bit of a belly? Well, maybe more than a bit.

Now, she was glad she hadn't told this woman about the piece of spinach between her teeth.

That's not very nice, Elle. People won't like you if you're not nice.

The last thing she needed right now was Nan's advice.

And she still wasn't telling this woman about the food between her teeth. She'd called Elle fat.

There was a line.

And being told that she was fat and old crossed that line.

"Elle?"

She turned and saw a tall woman strutting toward her. This woman could only be Caramel. Elle wasn't sure if that was her real name or her stage name, but she rocked it.

Long, bright red hair fell down her back in waves; her make-up was on-point. She had a generous cleavage and wore a tracksuit in a green velvet that was totally awesome.

"Caramel?" she asked.

"Yep." Caramel gave her air kisses. That had been something Elle had never managed to pull off. The last time she'd tried to do that with a friend, she'd ended up whacking her nose so hard that it had bled.

So she stayed still while Caramel did her thing.

It was safer that way.

"You two know each other? Figures," the rude woman muttered.

"I see you've met Satan's mistress," Caramel said.

"Oh, that's her name? She wouldn't tell me. She called me fat and old." Shit. Why had she blurted that out?

Caramel glared at the other woman. "You're such a bitch, Lucy. Why don't you go sacrifice a goat to the dark gods?"

"You can't talk to me like that! I'm your boss!"

Was this woman really in charge? That wasn't good. Dread filled her.

Caramel wrapped her arm around Elle's. "No, you're not. You're just on a power trip because you think you're going to get into Saber's pants. News flash, he ain't interested in your pants or any other part of you. Oh, and you've got spinach in your teeth!"

There was a screech as Caramel led her away.

"Wow, she's . . . intense," Elle said, coming up with the kindest word she could think of.

"She's a bitch is what she is. Hates us dancers because we make more money than she does. And she knows that even if she got up on stage and started stripping, ain't no one who wants to see what she's got under her clothes. There's probably a portal to hell between her legs."

Elle let out a surprised giggle as Caramel winked at her. "Come on, let's head into the main room. They've already started."

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"Pfft, you're not late. Don't let Lucy get to you. She's like that with everyone who isn't Saber or Gomez."

Saber was the owner, but who was Gomez? A manager?

They stepped into what was obviously the main area of the bar. A stage with a long catwalk went out into the middle of the room.

Seating went around the edge of the catwalk, and more chairs with tables were scattered throughout the room. Booths lined two walls.

A long bar took up most of the wall to the left. It was all done in shades of black and red.

Honestly, it was pretty much what she'd expected for a strip bar.

"For some reason, I thought there would be some pink," she muttered as Caramel led her toward the back of the room where a few other women were sitting.

"Wouldn't that be awesome? But no . . . it was named after the original owner. I don't think the clients would appreciate a pink overload, anyway."

Elle nodded as they sat to watch the woman on the stage. She was an okay dancer. Good body. But her face was stony, as if she didn't want to be here.

"I was kind of freaking out in the parking lot."

"April said you're an amazing dancer, but it's your first time stripping?"

"Uh, yeah. Do you . . . do you think I'm too old and fat to strip?"

Caramel turned her, putting her hands on her cheeks. "Do not listen to that bitch. You're freaking gorgeous. Seriously. Men dig curves. And all that hair and those cheekbones. By the way, I love what you've done with your eyeshadow. You think you could do something like that on me?"

Elle nodded enthusiastically. Even if she didn't love helping people, Caramel had just saved her from Satan's mistress. So she'd do anything she asked.

"You'll be on after the next dancer. I think Gomez is going to enjoy watching you."

"Who is Gomez?"

"He's Saber's right-hand man. Saber owns this place, but Gomez mostly runs it after our old manager, Mitchell, left. Don't worry; no loss. He was a rat bastard."

Right. Okay.

"And Lucy?"

"She's the bar manager and the reigning queen of hell."

The next woman moved onto the stage. And she was good. Sultry and sexy. There were a few moves she could tweak to make it even better.

But she was rocking it.

Elle gazed at the dancer in complete admiration. She couldn't help but wish she looked as stunning as her. However, there was a lingering fear in the back of her mind that her body might betray her. Thankfully, it had been a while since she last experienced a back spasm.

When the performance came to an end, Elle clapped enthusiastically, causing everyone around her to turn and stare. Oops. Did she make a mistake by clapping? Technically, the other woman was her competition, but Elle believed she deserved recognition for her outstanding performance.

Caramel flashed a grin in her direction. "Just like April said."

Uh-oh. What did April say? Elle was curious.

Caramel chuckled. "She mentioned that you're a bit eccentric but have a heart of gold."

Great. Eccentric. Elle wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Come on, it's your turn next. Let's head backstage," Caramel urged.

As Elle rose to her feet and followed Caramel, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She turned around and noticed a man sitting in a back booth. Although partially hidden in the shadows, she could still make out his attractive features-a muscular build, dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a well-dressed appearance.

His gaze was intense as he locked eyes with her, but then he quickly averted his gaze, dismissing her presence. It was silly, but Elle couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Caramel pulled her along, causing her to almost lose her balance.

"That's Gomez," Caramel whispered. "Isn't he sexy?"

"Uh, yeah," Elle replied, realizing she probably shouldn't be expressing her attraction towards her potential future boss.

"He's a bit peculiar and distant. He's not the type of boss you can have a casual chat with. There's always a barrier between him and the rest of us."

Huh. That didn't sound like the greatest boss.

"But ever since he took over from Mitchell, this place has become much safer. He insists on escorting all the girls, dancers, and bar staff to their cars. And if they don't have cars, Pepper takes care of their transportation home."

"Really?" Elle was amazed. She had been worried about how she would get home at night, especially since the nearest bus stop was still a four-block walk from her place.

"Yes. Gomez is really big on making sure we're safe."

Alright, she was really starting to warm up to him.

"And he brought in more bouncers. One by the door of our dressing room and one by the stage to make sure no one gets too handsy. Some people assume that being a stripper means you're okay with being touched inappropriately or that you're selling yourself in other ways. Not true. I have a man waiting for me at home, and he doesn't want anyone else laying a finger on me."

"He's okay with you doing this?"

Caramel raised an eyebrow. "I just paid off our condo, and I'm saving up to take us on a cruise around the Caribbean. Yep, he's cool with it. Now, show me what's under that jacket."

Nerves started to creep in.

Stupid. She was about to perform in front of a crowd of strangers in this revealing outfit. And she was going to have to show more skin than she was comfortable with.

Which was scary.

Because even though she thought her breasts were nice, they were also large. And they had stretch marks.

"This was a mistake. I can't go through with this."

"Show me," Caramel said gently.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her jacket and let it slip off.

It was warmer inside, but she still felt a chill.

"This outfit is... different. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I made it."

"It's quite colorful."

"I like bright colors. Is it too much? Should I have toned it down?"

"Hey, it's different. And different isn't always bad."

Not in her experience.

Nerves filled her. "This was a terrible idea."

"What? No!" Caramel cupped her face. "Seriously? Babe, you have got it going on. And these curves? The patrons here are going to love you. If Saber was here, he would cream his pants."

Jesus. What a thought.

"You are just his type."

Elle wasn't sure she wanted to be Saber's type.

"I've got stretch marks," she blurted out.

"So? Me too. Don't worry. Ain't no one going to be focused on a few stretch marks when you have these girls out."

Right.

There was a change in the music.

"That's your cue, babe. Good luck."

Fuck. Luck was something that had never been on her side. In fact, she'd always been seriously unlucky.

But maybe things were changing. Elle set her bag down by her jacket and took a deep breath.

Then she forced a smile onto her face. She could do this. She could rock this.

She had to.

Trevor Gomez watched from the shadows as she walked out onto the stage.

Interest filled him. This was . . . strange. He couldn't remember ever feeling attracted to anyone else like this.

Well, other than Saber.

And nothing could ever come of that.

She'd clapped for her competition.

That said something about this girl . . . no, woman. Because she was all woman. Curves he would love to run his hands over. Piles of blonde hair that lay in soft waves down her back.

Lips that would look perfect wrapped around his cock.

Fuck. He was being a complete dick.

This was part of the job, although not a responsibility he particularly relished.

He was not supposed to get turned on.

None of the other women interested him. That didn't mean they weren't attractive. That they weren't good dancers. That they wouldn't be popular with Pepper' regulars.

It worried Gomez because it was very rare for him to be aroused by any woman . . . unless he was sharing her with Saber. He'd long since given up trying to have sex without Saber. Not that he'd ever told his best friend that.

It was bad enough Gomez knew it. He didn't need Saber knowing how fucked in the head he was.

Except . . . now there was her. She stepped out slowly onto the catwalk, looking like she couldn't decide whether she was about to vomit or not. Her heels were too low and her outfit covered her almost entirely from chest to ass. Sure, it was made with see-through lace, but all the other women interviewing for this job had started out in G-strings and tiny bras that barely covered their nipples.

The outfit was so pink that it made him wince. And it looked like it was made of several different pieces of material sown together.

"She's so far out of her fucking depth. What a joke," Lucy said snidely as she sat across from him in the booth.

Fuck. Why had he kept Lucy on?

Because other than being a total cow, she hadn't given him a reason to fire her. And if he got rid of her, he'd need to find someone to replace her. Which meant taking on more responsibilities until he did.

Which was something he didn't need.

So for the moment, he put up with her cattiness and the way she continually tried to stick her nose up Saber's ass.

But as soon as she messed up, she was gone.

He didn't reply. He knew she wasn't expecting him to because he gave Lucy even less than he gave most people.

Which wasn't much to begin with.

"And what is she wearing? It's probably a good thing she's covering herself up. Why would she think anyone would want to see her strip?"

"Go away, Lucy."

"What?" She jolted and then gaped over at him. He tried not to swear at women. His father had always cussed at his mother. And Gomez worked hard to never be like his father.

However, with Lucy, he was really close to breaking that rule. It was hard to get through her thick skull.

"Go. Away."

The woman started dancing. What was her name? He glanced down at his list.Elle. Unusual, but it suited her.

To his shock, once she started moving, she lost her nerves. That sick look disappeared. And as she relaxed . . . she could move.

Fuck. His dick was so hard that it hurt.

"But Gomez," Lucy whined. "I'm supposed to help you. Drake said."

Saber said nothing of the sort. Gomez also knew that the other man would never have told Lucy she could use his first name.

"Lucy, go away. And don't let Saber hear you calling him Drake."

She swallowed and stood, stomping over to another chair. It wasn't far enough away, but it would have to do.

It gave him a chance to watch Elle. His balls fucking ached. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten off. Lately, he hadn't felt like joining in with Saber. It wasn't that the other man had a parade of women through his bed. But he also wasn't celibate. Yet, for the last few months, Gomez had been.

But this woman . . . she was making him feel.

And he wasn't sure that he liked that.

Because that made him vulnerable to being hurt.

Fuck.

She's just a chick trying out for a stripper job. She's not going to change your life.

But damn . . . watching her was . . . it was almost a gift. Which sounded ridiculous. But the way she moved, the look on her face, she loved to dance.

And then she relocated to the pole. He tensed up. Soon, she would have to take off that outfit she was wearing. And he didn't want anyone else catching a glimpse of her.

Idiotic.

It was just part of the job.

She grabbed onto the pole and spun around. It was an alright move. Nothing extraordinary. She reached up high and attempted a basic invert.

He could swear he felt it before he saw it. Her face contorted in pain and she suddenly crashed to the floor. There were a few gasps and a laugh that he knew came from Lucy.

Jerk.

Without even thinking, Gomez leaped to his feet and hurried towards her.

* * *

Damn.

Elle shut her eyes as she laid on the stage. Her back was spasming and it was painful. Why the hell did she try that move? Why did she think this was a good idea?

Stupid. So stupid.

There was a time when she would have excelled at this.

That was in the past.

It felt like her life had two acts. Before the accident. And after. And the after was just complete and utter crap.