Cut Wide Open Page 13


“Yeah, baby it’s me. Go to sleep.” I cooed, and made my way across the hall, fishing my key out of my bag, while balancing him on my hip and shoulder.

Just a little while longer, I thought. I’d been saving for years now. I almost had enough saved to move. My plan was to move into a house, stop “entertaining” and have enough bank that I could be comfortable while I opened a studio. I had one skill and that was dancing. I loved that pole dancing had become the new workout craze. I was going to teach suburban women how to pole dance and from everything I’ve read, I’d make a killing.

I smiled thinking about my dream as I laid Gun down in his bed. I kissed him on his head and was about to walk out of his room when I heard, “Momma,” in a sleepy voice.

“Gun.”

“Missed you,” he yawned.

I climbed into bed beside him and wrapped him close to me. “Missed you too, Gun,” I whispered as my eyes fluttered closed.

 

***

 

“Mom, I just have to get one more power up.” Gun hit the controls fast and furiously. This kid’s addiction to video games was out of this world.

“Alright, five more minutes, and we have to go.” I got a grunt in response and finished doing the dishes leftover from dinner while I waited.

“Gun. Time’s up.”

“Mom,” he whined.

“Sorry, bud.” He reluctantly put the remote control down and I clicked off the TV.

“I wasn't done saving it yet.”

I gave my son a look that said enough and he reluctantly followed me across the hall. Mrs. Warner’s apartment was a one bedroom, where mine was a two. Her worn couch and recliner had towels over the armrest to hide where the material had frayed. She had a small coffee table in the living room in front of her old box style TV.

She was a black woman with gray hair and a round belly. There was a softness to her eyes that instantly made me trust her, and the easy way Gun took to her made it an easy choice to have her watch him.

“Hey, sugar. I made cookies,” Mrs. Warner called as soon as we walked in.

“You’re going to spoil him too much!” I joked.

“There is no such thing with this boy. Gun, get over here and kiss your Momma goodbye.”

A few minutes and a nice long hug later, I was on my way to work. After last night, I wasn’t looking forward to going in. Not that I usually looked forward to it, but tonight, I wanted nothing to do with it.

The night was going okay. I went on to do my set. Tonight, I wore a black frayed top with black star pasties under it and lace cheeky panties. The music cued and the lights dimmed. I thumped my five-inch stiletto on the stage and waited until the perfect beat when the spotlight shone brightly on me.

I moved my hips fast as Shakira's voice echoed in the room. I had a few songs tonight and I usually started off with something sexy and fast, then finished the night off with an intense number.

My ass was to the crowd and my hips were shaking, when I turned around and my eyes landed on Enrico Santos. He was sitting in the chairs that surrounded the stage. One of his business associates was seated next to him trying to get his attention, but his eyes were trained directly on me. I tried not to look in his direction, but I could feel his steely gaze. It wasn’t a warm touch either, no this felt like a vice grip.

I did my best to get through my song, even though his presence had shaken me. By the end of the song, I was wearing only my pasties and panties. I shook my hips and my full tits for the crowd, and then the lights dimmed.

I rushed to collect my money. Frank was nearby, but the darkness, with this monster so near, made me nervous. The lights flicked back on and the DJ announced that Sky would be on in ten minutes and to give it up for me one more time. The crowd was hooting and cheering as I was about to round the corner to the dressing room. Enrico’s hand caught my wrist in a firm grip.

“You tease me,” his thick-accented voice snarled.

My eyes darted and I saw Frank in my peripheral talking to one of Enrico’s goons. I steadied my shaky voice, “I’m sorry, it’s my job to dance. Please let me go. I don’t want any trouble.”

“I want you to do your job and dance for me.”

“I don’t do private dances. I’m on the stage, that’s all.”

“You’ll dance for me, and when I get you alone, I’ll sink my fingers into that tight pussy and you’ll gag on my cock until I let you up for air.”

“Hands off the dancer,” Frank ordered.

Enrico wasn’t the type of guy to be ordered around. He released my wrist, and in the same movement, grabbed my long dark locks in a tight fist.

“Certainly, you can tell I’m a man who gets what I want. You resist me, I might just keep you.” He let me go, turned, then walked away as if he didn’t just scare the shit out of me.

“You alright, Char?” Frank asked handing me a robe as we walked into the dressing area.

“No. That guy gives me the creeps.”

“I talked to Dick when I saw him come in. Dick’s scared shitless of him. Said he’s one powerful motherfucker and if we all knew what was good for us, we’d do whatever the fuck the guy wanted and try to keep our heads down and our mouths closed.

“I can’t go in that room with that guy.”

“I know, Char. Why don’t you leave for the night? I’ll tell Dick you weren’t feeling good.”

“Thanks, Frank.” I quickly shimmied on some sweats and threw a sweatshirt on top. I always dressed in sweats. After being on stage I would do whatever it took to stay out of the limelight.

In a hurry, as if not to be caught by Dick, Frank ushered me out.

Mrs. Warner was still up when I arrived. “You’re here early? Bad night?” she asked.

“You could say that.”

“Everything okay, darling?” Concern laced her voice.

“Just some creep,” I shook my head, willing away any thoughts of Enrico. “How was Gun tonight?”

“Oh you know that boy, he’s no trouble.” I smiled at Mrs. Warner. She took good care of my boy. “I’m going to grab him, okay?”

“Yeah, honey. You sure you’re okay, though?”

I nodded and opened Mrs. Warner’s bedroom door.” Gunner’s face didn’t look quite right. There were small creases by the sides of his eyes and when I stepped even closer I could see that there was a slight grin he was holding back. “Busted little dude. I know you’re totally faking.”

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