Seven Sons

Chapter Three

It's hot, and I can feel sweat beads starting to gather between my new breasts. It's funny, I'm still getting used to actually having something decent on my chest. It kind of sucks not being able to sleep on my front, though. Once this is all over, I'm definitely getting them reduced.

For now, I'm a DD cup. Because I know exactly what Dornan "Prez" Ross likes, and it's brunettes with big titties and tanned skin. I am actually surprised that he even bothered raping me. The old me definitely wasn't his type.

I stand out the front of Va Va Voom, the strip joint owned and run by the club, just a few blocks from the Gypsy Brothers clubhouse. When my father was alive, Va Va Voom was actually an upmarket burlesque club. No lap dancing. No hookers out the back. No filth. Dornan changed all that after he had my father murdered.

I push the door open, dragging my small suitcase behind me. It contains everything I'll need for my burlesque show audition. Costumes, some props, my makeup. I have been dancing in my darkened bedroom in Nebraska for years, practicing for this exact moment in time.

The club is dark and smells like stale beer mixed with cheap perfume, with an undertone of dishwasher steam. It's Thursday. Several staff members mill around the bar at one end of the large, open club space, and attractive women in singlets and denim cut-offs practice their dance steps and gossip up on stage. The middle of the place is deserted, and I stand in the center of the cavernous room, my past throbbing in my head like a bullet wound seeping blood. I glance again at the stage and remember what happened there six years ago. 

"Come on, darlin'," Dornan laughed, pushing me into the circle formed by six of his sons. The eldest, Chad, caught me by my shoulders and spun me around so that I was facing everyone but him. 

"Well, aren't you looking mighty fine," Maxi, the third brother, said, wolf-whistling his appreciation. His eyes raked up and down my body and I cringed, looking at the floor. He reached out and slapped me on the ass, making me yowl in surprise. I was terrified. I was fifteen.

"Do you understand why you're here, darlin'?" Dornan asked me, malice in his black eyes. I shook my head, and returned my gaze to the scuffed wooden stage below my feet. I'd never been here before without my father, and even then I had only ever been here with him after the club was closed, if he needed to pick something up from the office upstairs or drop off a set of keys for whoever was closing up. 

There was a video camera set up at the edge of the stage, pointed towards the circle of men. I smelled their sweat and leather and fought not to cry. 

Because, even though I was only fifteen years old and a complete virgin, I knew what came next. 

I shook my head no. 

Dornan laughed and squeezed my chin between his thick fingers, forcing my head up. He pointed to the camera and brushed a tear from my ashen cheek. He leaned in close so that only I could hear him.

"Say hello to the camera," he whispered in my ear. "I'm gonna make you a star."

I scan the length of the bar, looking for any familiar faces. Any of the Ross brothers or their bastard father. There is no one from six years ago. Just a lone guy, who looks about my age, polishing beer glasses behind the counter. I take a moment to appreciate his fine arms as I cross the room. He's really tall, well over six foot, and hot to boot. His arms both feature full tattoo sleeves. His face is a study in contradictions. He has the sexiness and spunk of a man, with his large brown eyes, thick, beautifully shaped eyebrows and olive-toned skin. His lips are full and wide, and I think for a split second what they would be like to kiss. He has cut his dark brown hair close to his skull. All of this is juxtaposed with the look in his eyes that screams "boy", a look of innocence and naivety.