Free Strip for Me by Amarinda Jones Page B

She blew out a breath, “So how do I get to Miami?
    Maybe I could sell my body?” Rett snorted at the idea. While she knew she wasn’t ugly, she was also aware she was no beauty. Her ass was large, as were her hips, while her breasts could out-cleavage most women’s, and at thirty-four she noticed the sag of gravity creeping in.

    “Okay, so maybe I could find a blind, drunk man to pay me for my favors.”
    “Pardon me, but are you okay, honey?”
    A tall blonde with her hair in a wild cascade of ringlets down her back stopped beside Rett. “Oh yeah, sure.” Wow, talk about gorgeous. The woman was built like a goddess. Actually, a goddess would scratch her eyes out in envy. “I just need money to get to Miami to go home.”
    The blonde rested her hand on her arm, her blue eyes full of concern. “Oh, hon, I wish I could help you out, but I’m stony broke and walking.”
    That a stranger would care was sweet. “It’s okay. I’ll deal with it.” Somehow. Maybe I’ll wish upon a star or something.
    “I do know somewhere you could make some fast money, but you may not like it.”
    Rett’s spirits perked up at the idea of money. “At the moment, I have no choice.”

    * * * * *
    “Take your clothes off.” Hamish Clark smiled as the buxom brunette’s mouth dropped open in shock. Hmmm, pretty lips. I wonder what they’d feel like on a man’s dick. He shifted in his seat for the third time since the woman walked into his small office. Some women had the ability to make a man hard with one look. This was one of them. Hamish had been surprised when she walked in the door.
    She was not the usual type of lady that searched for work at his club.
    That she was beautiful and had a body a man could bury himself in and never want to leave was undoubted.
    “What?”
    She was dressed in plain denim shorts and a simple red t-shirt.
    Although Hamish could guess what was underneath, he wanted to see the curves and mounds of luscious flesh. Hamish had seen a lot of bodies since he became the owner of the strip club. That had been purely by default. His best friend, Seth Wilson, the original owner of The Howl and the Pussy, had thrown him a paper signing the club over to him, followed by the keys; and with a surfboard under his arm, Seth declared he could hear the call of the sea and he was leaving Resort City forever. That was eight months ago. Hamish had taken over ownership on a temporary basis. He expected Seth to be back when he ran out of money, and owning a strip club, while fun, wasn’t what Hamish wanted to do. He was in construction by trade.
    But he was also on a break until he worked out what he really wanted to do in life. Like Seth, he had an urge to follow some dream. But what? He had come to Resort City to hook up with Seth, drink some beers, and check out his club. The last thing he expected was to own it.
    “You need money?” What’s your story? What brought you so desperately to my door?
    “Y-y-es but I thought maybe you needed a waitress or something.”
    “We need ‘something’ more than a waitress here at The Howl and Pussy.” Hamish’s eyes roamed her body. She was hot. There was no other word for it. He shifted once more in his seat. His balls were aching with need. Yeah, she would do nicely. Their clientele was tired of stick figured women who looked like they’d faint on stage if they turned too fast. “If you want to make money, there’s two ways of doing it at this club. One is stripping and the other, well, it’s about pandering to the fetishes of our guests.”
    “Have sex with strangers? Are you kidding me?”
    Hmm, interesting. Was there the mind of a prude in that voluptuous body? “Why not?”
    “Because it’s—”
    “Wrong?”
    “Yes.”
    Yet she wasn’t storming out. She remained where she was.
    “Says who?”
    “Er, well—people.”
    Lame reason, but her blush is cute. “Which people?”
    Rett threw he hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. I should