06| Protection?

“I didn't catch your name, red hair," Senna said as she caught the dress he tossed at her.

Balia ignored him and walked towards the bathroom to get changed. If he wanted to know her name, he'd have done that politely over a drink or after asking her to strip for him.

These were the perks of being a stripper. The bad perks. Men could make nasty comments about you, slap you in inappropriate places, and even ask for sex, and all you had to do to keep your job was grin like a fucking Cheshire cat and do whatever you were asked to.

She wondered who this man was and where he had come from, making him feel he had authority over her. What had she gotten herself into?

She hadn't. The universe was against her this evening because she had done nothing to warrant this harassment from this strange and devilishly handsome man. As hard as it was to admit, he was an attractive man. She knew he was older than she was, probably in his early forties. But she hated him still.

When she got to the bathroom