A Girl Like Grace

by melanieatplay

©Copyright 2019 by melanieatplay

I'd like to thank my friend and editor Jim (Mojavejoe420) for his help on this piece.

Chapter 1

His hands slowly moved from my waist down to my ass and he began to gently rub. "You're not supposed to be doing that." I knew he could hear me, even over the loud, thumping music the DJ was playing. Still, he refused to answer me for several seconds.

"C'mon, I just want to get my money's worth, I've been watching you dance all night and I just wanted a little feel."

There was only about a minute left in the song and the lap dance would be over. It was just easier to be a trooper and get through it, instead of making a scene. I pushed my breasts into his chest and pressed my mound into his erection that was poking through the rough, coarse denim of his jeans. Hopefully, that would distract him for a few more seconds until the song ended.

I moved in a bit closer so my long, light-brown hair was brushing against his face. Due to my close proximity, I could really smell the alcohol on his breath. Because of the Clark County ordinance, the club couldn't serve alcohol and have nude dancing. Unfortunately, that didn't stop our patrons from entering the club already drunk.

"Your hands should be at your sides," a low, menacing voice from behind me growled.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Ma'am," the man stuttered. "It won't happen again."

"If you touch one of the girls again, you'll be eighty-sixed, no refund for the cover charge, do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I understand," he said sheepishly.

Thankfully, the song ended and I rose up off his lap. I grudgingly thanked the drunk and accepted the crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Then, I turned to face the woman who was now in front of me and I took a moment to look her over. She was tall, at least six feet, and her dark hair was cut very short and almost shaved on the sides. She wore blue jeans and a T-shirt that had, "Security" emblazoned prominently on the front. Her thickly muscled biceps pulled the sleeves of her shirt tight around her skin. It was obvious she spent a lot of time in the gym to get a physique like that.

"Thank you… for that…" I said shyly.

"You're welcome, but I was only doing my job."

There were a few moments of awkward silence, it was as if neither of us knew what to say next. "I'm going to take my last break," I said over the loud drumbeat while the singer sang about his love for "Cherry Pie."

She looked into my eyes before speaking. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"No ... ummm … that's okay."

I could feel a hundred sets of eyes on me while I followed her through the club: Those lustful, longing stares that I tried so hard to ignore when I was on stage. Men always stared, since I was very young, but that was different because I had clothes on. Here at work, I was naked when I was up on the stage, or wearing very revealing lingerie or skimpy outfits when I roamed the large, expansive room looking for men who wanted lap dances. Instead of thinking about the lurkers, I chose to focus my eyes on her.

She had such a manly gait. She walked with authority and her every movement said, male. However, her very "butch" demeanor didn't entirely hide the fact that she was very beautiful. A week earlier I'd read an online article that coined the phrase, "Chapstick Lesbian" as opposed to the traditional "Lipstick Lesbian." The author described Chapsticks as being much more low-key and less concerned about their appearance. This type of lesbian was much more concerned about her career and relationship instead of how she looked. It made me wonder if this girl fit into that category.

We made our way past the changing area and I grabbed my robe to put over my little babydoll nightie and my pack of cigarettes. Unfortunately, when we reached the small break room, there were five of my co-workers sitting around the small table giggling and gossiping.

"Do you want to go outside?" she asked.

"Okay." Leaving the safe confines of the building was something I'd never do alone, but with her, I felt safe. When she opened the door, the searing heat hit me in the face like a blow dryer. Even though it was ten at night, it was still at least ninety degrees.

Summer in Las Vegas.

We sat down in the two small folding chairs by the door and I lit up.

"You know those are bad for you, right?"

I shot her a little smirk. "Yeah, I think I've heard that somewhere before."

She shook her head. "You're Grace, right?" she asked.

My jaw dropped open, I had no idea she knew my name, my real name. "Yes, and what's yours?"

"Ava."

"It's nice to meet you," I said shyly.

"You haven't been here long, have you?"

"I started on Monday."

"That makes sense, why I haven't seen you before, I only work here on the weekends."

I took another drag from my cigarette. "What do you do when you're not here protecting me from the drunks?"

Her face broke into a little grin. "I'm an electrician, I wire new homes, that sorta thing."

There were a few moments of comfortable silence until she spoke again. "Is this your first foray into dancing?"

"No, I worked at Cheetah's for about a month before coming here."

"It must be a change then going from dancing topless to nude."

"It's taken some getting used to, but the money's better here."

I took another deep drag from my cigarette. "How did you know my name, my real name?"

"The manager is a good friend of mine, and Sierra just didn't seem to fit you very well."

My face broke into a little blush and I quickly put my cigarette out by stomping it into the ground with my clear, plastic heel. "I should get back in there before they send the dogs out after me."

"Okay, I enjoyed talking to you, getting to know you a little."

"I liked it too.”

Her eyes wandered over my body. She looked at me like men did and that was a little disconcerting.

Chapter 2

The last two hours of my eight-hour shift went smoothly. I danced on the main stage two more times and was able to give several lap dances and even got one of the guys in the ‘Champagne Room' for a half-hour. All told, I was able to make about twice as much as a typical Friday night at my old club. I was still getting used to the ‘nude dancing' thing, but the considerable monetary increase helped assuage any lingering reservations about my decision to work here.

Throughout the rest of the shift, I could feel Ava's eyes on me while she closely watched me with the men. It was almost as if I had my own private bodyguard looking out for me. I had to admit, it was a good feeling. At midnight, I showered and got the sweat and the smell of the men off my body. It felt good knowing I didn't have to be back until six tomorrow night. I could sleep in, relax, and forget about this place for a while. I hated that I didn't have the weekends off anymore, but in this line of work, working weekends was where the money was. I changed into a short, jean skirt and a pink lace top. I completed the ensemble with a little black lace thong, matching bra, and Cocobell gilded leather sandals.

My breasts weren't that large and there were times when I didn't wear a bra when I went out. I'd always been envious of my co-workers who had larger breasts because so many guys seemed to be into that and I knew it helped them make better money than I did, most of the time. However, my small 34B's fit my long, lanky 5'6" frame pretty well and I'd been told I was easy on the eyes. Regardless, I never considered myself to be beautiful like some of the other girls I worked with.

After I secured my locker, I made my way towards the back door and pulled out my phone to call an Uber. I knew the club would have at least one security guard by the door to ensure the safety of the girls who were ending their shift. Once I reached the exit, I saw a familiar face. "Where are you going?"

It was Ava. She still had on the same jeans, but she'd changed out of her club mandated 'security' T-shirt and into a pretty blue blouse. "I'm going home."

"Feel like getting a cup of coffee with me?"

I wasn't very enthused about going home and having a little company on Friday night sounded much better than spending the remainder of the evening alone in my one-bedroom, shoebox apartment. "Okay."

We walked silently to the parking lot in front of the building. Even at midnight, there was still a line of at least two dozen guys waiting to get into the club. Typical for a city that never sleeps, I reasoned. "They're all waiting to see you, and you're leaving."

I shot her a little smile. "Yeah, I wish." We walked fifty more feet until we were standing in front of a lifted Ford F-350 pickup.

"This is me, what do you think?"

"I like it, it fits you." I heard the little chirping sound as she unlocked the door. "How do you get up in this thing?" I teased.

"Let me help you." I opened the door and she moved behind me. I felt her hands around my waist and she effortlessly lifted me up into the cab.

Involuntarily, a little chill coursed through my body. I'd been grinding against men all evening, but this was the first time I actually felt any type of emotion all night, or for a long time, actually.

"So where do you want to go for coffee?" she asked after climbing into the cab with me.

"I'd rather get a drink."

"Me too, but you're only eighteen."

I cut my eyes at her. "You know my name and my age … what else do you know about me?" I said gruffly.

"Settle down and don't get pissed. This is me taking an interest."

I took a deep breath and attempted to calm down a little. My privacy was very important to me, I didn't need the drunken men who showed up wanting dances at the club knocking at my door. "I'm sorry … it's just …"

She rested her hand on my thigh and gently squeezed which sent another shiver through my body. "I'd never do anything to hurt you … okay?"

I looked down sheepishly. "I'm sorry for being so defensive."

She pulled up to a red light and looked at me. "If you want to get a drink, we can go to the Piranha. One of my friends works at the door and I can get him to let you in."

"I … ummm… I have a fake ID."

"Just how did you get a fake ID?"

I looked down again, unable to meet her intense glare. At that moment, she sounded just like my mother. "A guy who used to come into my old club works at Nellis… let's just say we traded services."

The light turned green and her truck lurched forward. "You're a little hustler, aren't you?"

I cut my eyes at her again. "Just what does that mean?"

"You get what you want."

"No, not always."

She shifted gears and her truck gained speed. "Do you escort?"

Chapter 3

My jaw dropped open. I'd never met anyone so direct. "No, I don't."

"Good."

"And just for the record, I didn't fuck him to get the fake ID. Let's just say I was a little lax with the rules that night when he bought lap dances."

She broke into a little grin. "Yeah, I can imagine."

"There wasn't a hulking female security guard looking over my shoulder at my old club so I could pretty much do whatever I wanted."

We both laughed at my little joke. "Maybe you need someone to keep you in check."

"Maybe I do."

A few minutes later, we arrived at the Piranha nightclub on Paradise Road. I'd heard some of the girls talk about the Piranha and knew it was a very popular LGBT hotspot in Las Vegas. When we pulled into the parking lot Ava came around to the passenger side of the truck and helped me down out of the cab. Again, I felt the now-familiar little tingle course through my body when she touched me. As we made our way to the entrance, she reached out and took my hand. I wasn't sure what to make of her gentle overture so I just gave in to the moment and went with it.

There was a small line at the door, but after a couple of minutes, we were standing in front of a rather large security guard. "Hey Ava, it's good to see you … it's been a while," the burly man said.

"Hi Mike, I've been busy, working two jobs now, so I don't have a lot of free time."

I felt Mike's eyes move over me while he sized me up. "Your new girlfriend?"

"No, just a friend, her name is Grace."

"It's nice to meet you Grace, can I see your ID?"

Ava shot him a stern look. "She's with me, Mike."

I reached into my purse. "I do have an ID."

"No, that won't be necessary,” he said.

Ava reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty, presumably for the cover charge.

"Keep it, I owe you anyway."

He stamped both of our hands and shot me a knowing smile. "Have a good evening."

I gave him a polite, little smile and Ava once again took my hand in hers. Once we stepped inside, we were immediately greeted by the loud, thumping house music that was blaring through the club's large speakers. I took a moment and let my eyes adjust to the darkness and it allowed me to check out my surroundings. The club had at least a dozen large stone columns on each side of the expansive dance floor and it also had hot blue and red lighting which gave the place a fresh, hip vibe. Even though it was a little after midnight, the club was packed with people who were dancing and drinking which made it difficult to get up to the bar and order drinks.

The patrons in the club were an eclectic mix that would be difficult, if not impossible, to describe in a single sentence. The women were dressed in a variety of clothing that ranged from traditional feminine club attire of short dresses and skirts to more masculine 'butch' style leather gear. Similarly, the men were also dressed in every type of fashion imaginable from traditional Dockers and a polo shirt, to very risqué costumes. As we fought our way through the crowd, I looked towards the dance floor and saw one young man, about my age, dancing with his male partner in assless leather chaps and an open cowboy vest. I definitely felt out of my comfort zone.

That was a preview of A Girl Like Grace. To read the rest purchase the book.

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