August by Desiree Cole

Author:Desiree Cole [Cole, Desiree]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sensual Ink
Published: 2016-04-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

He had honestly hoped he would never see the inside of The Hammock again.

Pulling his leather jacket a bit more securely over his shoulders he wrinkled his nose as he studied the crowded space. Just like the night he had first visited, strippers moved through the crowds with eager expressions on their faces. Of course, none of the men who approached him were his Angel.

“Hey baby,” one of the strippers grinned, his hand traveling over Allen’s chest slowly, his scantily clad body pressing up against his side. “Want a dance? It’s not often we get someone as good looking in here as you, I wouldn’t mind giving you a discount,” he grinned, licking his lips as Allen grimaced. The other wasn’t unattractive, he was a cute little thing: blonde haired, lightly tanned, with a soft face. He just wasn’t Allen’s type.

“Ah, no thank you. I’m actually not here for that,” Allen explained, gently sliding out of the disappointed strippers hold before slowly pulling away.

Searching through the club for the stripper was starting to feel fruitless, and dejected he felt himself wondering if the man was even going to be at the strip club that night. Moving up to the bar, he settled down with a sigh and rubbed at his forehead. What was he thinking? This was an awful idea.

“What can I get for you, handsome?” the woman behind the bar grinned, her white teeth flashing behind a set of ruby red lips. “Beer? Something stronger?” she urged when he looked startled by her question.

“I um- beer is fine,” he grimaced, his fingers tapping against the wood of the bar as he scanned the room for Angel. Turning back to the woman when she set the bottle in front of him, he frowned.

“I know this is probably a weird question, but what’s the line up on the stage tonight?” he asked, his gaze flicking up when the announcer called out the next dancer. It wasn’t his angel, instead some man who went by Hot Chocolate stepped out on stage.

“Not a weird question at all, sugar. Everyone’s got a favorite around here,” she shrugged, handing the other a flyer that had the dancers planned for the evening written out on it. His heart sank when he didn’t see Angel anywhere on it.

Great, now what was he going to do?

“Hey Leon, your usual?”

The bartender had turned her attention to another customer, a man settling into the chair beside Allen with a groan. When the man nodded, the woman settled a shot glass on the bar and poured out a liberal amount of vodka.

“You’re a God-sent, Hannah. I’m having the worst day, still not having any luck with those damn applications,” the man’s exasperated voice muttered from beside Allen. The soft husky tone caught his attention, and his gaze flutter up from his list a bit. “I’m never going to get out of this shit hole,” he grumbled.

“Don’t say that, hun. You’re doin’ just fine,” Hannah insisted, reaching out and patting the man’s hand.

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