Strip for Me

By: Amarinda Jones


Las Vegas, 2 a.m.

Rett Cameron was hungover, broke, and had no clean underwear. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair a tangled mess, and some parts of the evening she preferred to forget. Thankfully, she had been sober enough not to go ahead with the spontaneous wedding to the topless waiter, Vincenzo.

Vegas. You gotta’ love it.

The bus depot? Not so much. She was trying to get to Miami as cheap as possible. It didn’t look good.

“Resort City, honey. That’s how far your money will go,” the ticket clerk announced.

“But I need Miami.” She was supposed to catch a connecting flight from there back home to Australia. As to how she was going to live in Miami until the flight? Rett was going to worry about that when it happened.

The clerk smiled at her. It was a smile of experience, as if she had seen this scenario too many times. “You get what you get.”

Rett blew out a breath. She opened her purse and re-counted her money, or lack thereof.

“How far to Miami from this Resort City place?”

She watched as the woman’s finger traced the distance on the map.

“Crap! That has to be another four hour bus ride.” The clerk confirmed that with a nod. “And there’s no other way I can get to Miami?”

“Not on the money you have.”

“Bugger.” Well, I’ll just have to suck it up and make do.

“Did you have a good time in Vegas, honey?”

Rett smiled. “Oh yeah, what I can remember.” She would never regret her wild impulse to go. Life was short. Live it out of control was Rett’s mantra.

“Okay, then, one ticket to Resort City please.” She handed the cash over.

“’You gonna be okay?”

“Oh sure. Something will turn up.” Rett swung her bag over her shoulder and headed to the bus.

* * * *

Resort City 2:10 a.m.

Hamish Clark surveyed the clientele of The Howl and Pussy.

It was a good crowd. They’d make a profit for sure. As the owner of the club, that pleased Hamish. As another human being watching those giving in to the pleasurable sins of the flesh the club had on offer, Hamish was pleased to see others enjoying themselves. Sex. It was the one great leveler that united the human race.

He watched the man throw one hundred dollars at the stripper on stage. The woman looked at it and smiled. There were few requirements at The Howl and Pussy. It was a place where non-conformity ruled. The regulations they had were that no one was to be hurt or taken against their will, and the freedom to choose what, who, and how sex was enjoyed was up to the individual. Hamish wasn’t surprised the stripper dropped to her knees and swallowed the man’s cock. An easy thousand dollars could be made most nights at the club if you were open to possibilities.

* * * *

Amelia Hanson stood inside The Howl and Pussy and watched the man she hated. His easy stride and charming smile made her sick.

It was the same smile that had so infatuated her sister. What a fool Meg had been. How could she not have seen through the smooth charm and movie star looks? He was such an obvious classic love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Yet Meg had insisted he loved her. That type of man loved no one but himself. It was his total lack of sensitivity towards her sister that killed her. If only Meg had been a stronger person, then she would have seen through his charm. But she hadn’t.

She had fallen heavily for him. When Meg discovered she was not loved in return, she killed herself.

Amelia looked at the woman on stage sucking the dick of a man who had thrown one hundred dollars at her. Strippers.

“Disgusting.” Meg had not been a whore. She’d had class. Her eyes returned to Hamish Clark. “You are a murderer and I will make you pay for what you did to Meg.”

Chapter One

“Are you sure you can’t, Sally? I really need the money.” Rett Cameron pulled the phone away from her ear and winced. “Don’t yell at me. Yeah, fine, whatever, I’m a screw up.” She closed her eyes and listened once more as her sister began chanting her faults. “Yep, you’re the saint in the family and I’m the sinner.” Sally made being anal an art form. “I’ll see you when I get home.” Rett snapped her cell phone shut. “Fucking hell, she’s a head case. Ever since she married that twerp she’s lost the plot.”

You’re a gypsy, Loretta. You’re always off on one wild adventure after another, expecting people to bail you out when you’re in trouble. You have to stay in one place and learn to be normal. You can’t act reckless all your life.

“What the hell is normal?” Living under the dictatorship of Sally’s husband Lionel? “If that’s normal, then count me out.”

Lionel completes me.

Rett snorted as she remembered her sister’s words. “I hope someone smacks me in the back of the head if I ever utter those words about a man.” Once again, Loretta wondered how she was related to her sister Sally. She used to beg her mother to confirm that her blonde haired, goody two shoes sister was adopted.

Hell, mum. Or tell me I’m adopted. I can take it. It’s only logical I am as I’m the only one with black hair. It makes sense.