before, and was overwhelmed by it. The whoops and cheers from the men pressing up to the stage were much louder than they’d been for the previous dancers, even though those girls had shown an awful lot more than Skye did, writhing round on the stage, spreading their legs.
Head tilted back, Skye surveyed the faces closest around the stage, and smiled to herself; they were sweaty, pleading, mouths hanging open in hopeless lust. Time to start working them, now she’d got them all wound up, time to sashay round the footlights and let them work their sweaty twenties and fifties into her tiny gold outfit.
And just then, the whoops rose into a roar of excitement.
Jeez, feeding time at the zoo! Skye thought, grinning as she swivelled to see Jada striding onto the stage behind her, over six foot in her spike heels. They had a little routine for the changeover on the pole that all the regulars eagerly awaited; Skye clasped the pole with both hands, undulating her hips, flirting with Jada over her shoulder as Jada mimed a forehand and backhanded slap to Skye’s arse.
‘Yeah! Give it to her!’ one guy yelled.
‘Spank her good, baby!’ another chipped in.
Jada grabbed the pole above Skye and ground herself against her friend. Skye smelled Jada’s light sweat, musky under her Paloma Picasso perfume, and the new leather of her little bra-and-hotpants outfit, felt Jada’s pubic bone tapping against her buttocks, caught the rhythm and went with it, the girls dancing now, grinding against each other, the pole between Skye’s breasts as she parted her lips and raised one hand to her mouth in faux-shock, winking at the spectators, doing a fifties pin-up face that had them screaming appreciation.
We are gonna rake it in tonight! she reflected happily. Queens of the club!
Off by the bar, she spotted Oksana, picking her out by the dark orange tan and the hair so bleached it looked as white as bone. She was sucking on a straw, her mouth twisted as bitterly as if it were a lemon.
Skye shoved back against Jada, listening to the hoots and catcalls of the guys, every yell a promise of money to come. It was literally like music to her ears.
Amber
T he helicopter was landing at Bovey Castle at noon; beforehand, Tony had dragged Amber out to the terrace to watch the daily falconry display. Because she was nervous at having the big birds fly close to her, she had taken a Klonopin, and now, leaning back against Tony, she watched the enormous owl, which turned out to be called Merlin, hopping around on the grass from one huge, clawed foot to another, squawking imperiously for food.
‘He follows the guy round like he’s a dog,’ Tony muttered to her. ‘The guy actually had to teach him how to fly. Funny, huh?’
Amber nodded as the falconer called Merlin up to his arm and carried him over to the big black box in which he was transported. Two harris hawks came out of the boxes next, brown with white tails, and Tony squeezed her arm excitedly.
‘That’s what I hunted with yesterday!’ he said. ‘The Lab flushes out the rabbits and then the birds pick them off – one bird actually jumped on the Lab’s head, it was crazy! The best bit’s coming next – he’s got a gyrfalcon, they go from nought to sixty as fast as a Ferrari. He’ll take it down to the lawn. Very cool.’
Amber sighed, holding onto his arm to balance in the heels of her suede Jimmy Choo boots on the gravel path. Even though Tony had hired a golf cart to drive them back and forth from the lodge to the hotel – a bare five-minute walk, but the stone steps were ankle-threatening in the Balenciaga spikes she’d been wearing the night before – you still had to navigate some gravel and grass, both of which were murder on expensive shoes.
The falconer was bringing out a large whitish bird, which took off over the velvety green lawns below the terrace as if it had been fired out of a gun. The bird soared up, disappeared behind the castle, and circled it,
Head tilted back, Skye surveyed the faces closest around the stage, and smiled to herself; they were sweaty, pleading, mouths hanging open in hopeless lust. Time to start working them, now she’d got them all wound up, time to sashay round the footlights and let them work their sweaty twenties and fifties into her tiny gold outfit.
And just then, the whoops rose into a roar of excitement.
Jeez, feeding time at the zoo! Skye thought, grinning as she swivelled to see Jada striding onto the stage behind her, over six foot in her spike heels. They had a little routine for the changeover on the pole that all the regulars eagerly awaited; Skye clasped the pole with both hands, undulating her hips, flirting with Jada over her shoulder as Jada mimed a forehand and backhanded slap to Skye’s arse.
‘Yeah! Give it to her!’ one guy yelled.
‘Spank her good, baby!’ another chipped in.
Jada grabbed the pole above Skye and ground herself against her friend. Skye smelled Jada’s light sweat, musky under her Paloma Picasso perfume, and the new leather of her little bra-and-hotpants outfit, felt Jada’s pubic bone tapping against her buttocks, caught the rhythm and went with it, the girls dancing now, grinding against each other, the pole between Skye’s breasts as she parted her lips and raised one hand to her mouth in faux-shock, winking at the spectators, doing a fifties pin-up face that had them screaming appreciation.
We are gonna rake it in tonight! she reflected happily. Queens of the club!
Off by the bar, she spotted Oksana, picking her out by the dark orange tan and the hair so bleached it looked as white as bone. She was sucking on a straw, her mouth twisted as bitterly as if it were a lemon.
Skye shoved back against Jada, listening to the hoots and catcalls of the guys, every yell a promise of money to come. It was literally like music to her ears.
Amber
T he helicopter was landing at Bovey Castle at noon; beforehand, Tony had dragged Amber out to the terrace to watch the daily falconry display. Because she was nervous at having the big birds fly close to her, she had taken a Klonopin, and now, leaning back against Tony, she watched the enormous owl, which turned out to be called Merlin, hopping around on the grass from one huge, clawed foot to another, squawking imperiously for food.
‘He follows the guy round like he’s a dog,’ Tony muttered to her. ‘The guy actually had to teach him how to fly. Funny, huh?’
Amber nodded as the falconer called Merlin up to his arm and carried him over to the big black box in which he was transported. Two harris hawks came out of the boxes next, brown with white tails, and Tony squeezed her arm excitedly.
‘That’s what I hunted with yesterday!’ he said. ‘The Lab flushes out the rabbits and then the birds pick them off – one bird actually jumped on the Lab’s head, it was crazy! The best bit’s coming next – he’s got a gyrfalcon, they go from nought to sixty as fast as a Ferrari. He’ll take it down to the lawn. Very cool.’
Amber sighed, holding onto his arm to balance in the heels of her suede Jimmy Choo boots on the gravel path. Even though Tony had hired a golf cart to drive them back and forth from the lodge to the hotel – a bare five-minute walk, but the stone steps were ankle-threatening in the Balenciaga spikes she’d been wearing the night before – you still had to navigate some gravel and grass, both of which were murder on expensive shoes.
The falconer was bringing out a large whitish bird, which took off over the velvety green lawns below the terrace as if it had been fired out of a gun. The bird soared up, disappeared behind the castle, and circled it,
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