Free Max: A Stepbrother Romance by Stephanie Brother

being offered, and that she wouldn't be able to refuse.
    Ass-hole.
    She was on the verge of saying no too, turning around and heading back out of his life as quickly as she came back into it, but what else could she do?
    She hated the fact she had to go to him , but there was nowhere else she could turn. She needed the money and this was the only thing she could do to get it. This was the only thing he was offering her. At least it was only dancing. At least there was a God-damn piece of glass protecting her from the groping hands of the perverts that paid to watch her.
    "Each dance lasts for as long as the customer pays for. If someone wants to book you for the night, they can do. I guess Dante would have told you that though."
    "He didn't say much."
    Sash looks around the booth as though trying to divine what kind of thing might await her. What kind of person. She holds onto the pole and leans out from it, pressing her nose close up to the mirror to try and see through it.
    Isabella admires her curiosity.
    "I can take you to the other side. You know, just to show you what it's like. You won't be able to see the clients of course."
    "Ok", Sash says. "I'd like that."
    "You rent the space for the night, so we charge you for that. Anything you make on top of that is yours to keep. You work for as long and as often as you like, as long as the booths aren't booked out. The more customers you have, the more money you take home, it's as simple as that. We've got almost twenty girls on our books, all making good money."
    Isabella takes her back out into the corridor, to an apex and off to the left. Above, black paint makes the height of the ceiling impossible to determine. Sash reaches up anyway, keen to touch the nothingness. They pass through another red curtain, a large set of double doors protected on the other side by a guard whose ass Isabella pinches, and into a carpeted corridor. Isabella counts the doors carefully. When she reaches what she believes to be the right one, she pauses, her hand on the dented metal door knob.
    "This is a dance club, not a brothel. That is the first and most important thing to learn. If a client offers you money for sex, or any other service outside of the ones we offer here, and you accept, you will be asked to leave. This isn't a place for pimping yourself, honey, there is good money on offer here and no need to do anything else for it, do you understand?"
    Sash nods.
    "If you want to pimp yourself, there are plenty of places in the city where you can do just that."
    "Dancing is enough, believe me."
    Isabella opens the door.
    Inside, the room is a little larger than the booth on the other side, so the window is framed at the edges by a small part of the wall and looks just like an enormous TV screen.
    There is a green leather chair with a chesterfield back, a drinks cabinet to the side, a table with a banker's lamp, and a mahogany trim bookshelf. On the wall, a Salvador Dali print hangs, of a woman looking out of a window to the distant sea beyond. The decor is modern, but a little outdated. The red carpet looks worn at the foot of the chair and the books don't look like they are real. Much of the room is cast in shadow, and what little light there is, seems to filter in through the booth next door.
    "So this is it, how the other half live. Just to give you an idea."
    Sash walks around the room as though inspecting it for imperfections. She fingers the wallpaper and runs her hand along the line of books, before perching on the softened edge of the leather chair, picturing herself on the other side of the glass.
    "Do they-?" Sash asks innocently, dancing her fingers along the arm of the chair. "-You know?"
    Isabella tilts her head, like a dog that's just heard a noise too high pitched for a human ear.
    "Dante said he wanted to start you off slowly."
    "What does that mean?"
    Isabella extends her arm and Sash takes it, pulling herself out of the chair. Still holding hands, the two girls head back