Eliza: Text me the minute you step inside our apartment.
Sarah: Text me the minute you step inside our apartment.
They send the same damn text message, and she can’t help but laugh at their over-the-top reactions. Daniella is thankful to be surrounded by such amazing friends. Eliza and Sarah are there for her no matter what and they love her for exactly who she is. That used to be a very foreign thing to her. The small Southern town of Cumbie isn’t the easiest place to grow. Yes, she has a great family and some great friendships, but she could never really be herself.
She spent the first part of her youth trying to mold herself into what her southern family wanted her to be, but then she finally realized that she wanted to be herself. She wanted to live the life that made her happy, and that’s exactly what’s she’s been doing ever since. She quit ballet, she chose her major, and she got the tattoo she was dying to get. She’s doing everything she wants to do. And that fact makes her warm and fuzzy inside.
Well…that thought and the copious amounts of alcohol she managed to consume tonight.
Daniella throws on a comfy t-shirt and climbs into bed after sending Eliza and Sarah a short text message letting them know she made it back okay. The night went a lot differently than she had initially anticipated. Somehow, she managed to make an appearance at Penn Wilder’s club. His strip club. And to her surprise, she loved it. It was classy and sultry, and it has her contemplating things that are a little out of character for her.
Could I really be a stripper?
One week ago, that would have been the last question on Earth that would have crossed her mind. But now, things are different. She needs a quick solution for her tuition dilemma.
Is Wild Nights my solution?
She falls asleep with that question rolling around in her fuzzy brain. Her body gives in to the powerful effects of liquor, and Daniella tells herself that she’ll think about everything tomorrow…when she’s not intoxicated and actually has the capability of rational thought.
“So what the hell happened to you last night?” Eliza inquires as she pours a fresh cup of coffee.
“Yeah, you just up and left us…and Devon. That guy was all kinds of into you. He practically begged me for your number,” Sarah adds as she plops her tired ass into one of the kitchen table chairs.
Daniella rubs her eyes and leans against the kitchen counter, eyeing Sarah skeptically. “I had a bad case of the spins so I left before I ended up puking on a stripper. And what do you mean he begged you for my number? Did you give it to him?” She raises an interrogating eyebrow in her friend’s direction.
Sarah laughs and shrugs her shoulders before focusing her attention on her coffee mug.
“Sarah?!”
Sarah bursts out laughing in response to Daniella’s stern tone. She holds her hands up in the air in relinquishment. “Okay, okay. Calm down, sassy pants. I might have given the Marine your number, but seriously, I thought you two were hitting it off.”
“Isn’t that against some kind of friend code to just pass out your best friend’s number to random men?” Daniella can’t hide her slight irritation, which is strange considering she was getting pretty cozy with that sexy Marine last night.
“I’m sorry, Danny. Please don’t be mad at me.” She releases a full-on pout—the kind of pout she knows her best friend won’t be able to resist—while Eliza continues to observe the entire conversation with amusement. Her head follows their banter back and forth like she’s watching a tennis match.
Daniella holds her hand up in the air, blocking Sarah’s face from her view. “Stop with the pouting. You know I can’t take it.” She lowers her hand to find that puppy-dog pout still on display and promptly blocks it again. “Fine! I’m not mad,” she huffs out in exasperation.
Sarah and Eliza both laugh loudly and watch their best friend storm out of the kitchen. The sound of her feet stomping against the hardwood floor echoes throughout the entire apartment.
“She still sounds kind of pissed,” Sarah declares before taking a lengthy sip of coffee.
Eliza’s only response to that statement is a barking laugh and a soft pat on Sarah’s back. “I think you’re going to be on her shit list for a while. Good luck with that.”
Daniella stands in front of the giant sign that reads Wild Nights. Her eyes take in the empty parking lot and rather run-down appearance of the strip club, daylight showing off the building in a new light. Her hands tremble slightly as she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. She takes a cavernous breath and strives to muster up the courage to walk inside.
She’s not sure how she got here. After her conversation with Eliza and Sarah, her body seemed to go on autopilot, taking over her every move. She showered, got dressed, fixed her hair, and even took the time to apply a little makeup. Next thing she knew, she was in her car. And thirty minutes later, she was sitting in the parking lot of Wild Nights.
And now…well, she’s here.
She’s actually standing in front of the strip joint with plans of stepping inside and looking for employment. A lot people could perceive this recent turn of events as an all-time low for her, but she’s going to think of it as a necessary means to an end. She needs this job. She needs money. And if she manages those two things, she’ll be able to finish her bachelor’s degree, which in turn will allow her to continue on to grad school. Looking for employment as a stripper seems to be a necessary evil. It’s the only way she can obtain a large amount of cash in a timely manner without having to put her burdens on her family.
That final thought has Daniella hesitantly moving her feet towards the building. She uses that thought to motivate her to open the door and step inside. And she hangs on to that thought with an ironclad grasp as she walks through the empty club.
“We’re closed!” a deep voice yells in her direction. A man stands up from behind the bar and continues stocking glasses as he eyes her curiously.
“I’m aware you’re closed. I’m not here for lap dances. I’m here for a job.” She can’t help the small bite of sass that comes through her voice.
He laughs and proceeds to step out from behind the bar, sitting down on a stool and gesturing for her to take a seat. He’s older, middle-aged, with warm hazel eyes—not at all what Daniella expected to find. She pictured male staff at strip clubs to appear slimy and cold, constantly lusting over the female employees, but this man isn’t like that at all. He hasn’t even given her a once-over from what she can tell. She takes a seat beside him and props her elbows up on the table, inquisitively glancing in his direction.
“So you’re here for a job?” he asks interestedly.
“Yes.”
“What kind of job are you looking for exactly?”
Her brow creases in confusion. What the hell kind of question is that? This is a strip club for goodness’ sakes! She’s not here for a bank teller position.
“Uh…I’d like to work as a stripper. I’m pretty sure that’s about the only job you can get in clubs like this.”
The man laughs huskily; the sound is deep and raspy like a long-time smoker’s voice. “You’ve got some sass, don’t ya?” his Southern drawl questions her as he raises an amused brow.
She shrugs her shoulders, not sure what the correct answer is to that question. She knows she’s stubborn…but sassy?
“I’m Grant by the way. I’m the general manager here at Wild Nights. I do all of the hiring and firing.” He holds his callused hand out for her to shake. A warm smile consumes his face. “What’s your name?”
She takes his hand without hesitation. “Daniella.”
“Well it’s very nice to meet you, Daniella. You look pretty young. How old are ya?”
“Twenty-one.”
“You got some ID on ya to prove that?” he inquires without remorse. Grant Perkins wasn’t born yesterday, and he has seen his fair share of girls who attempt to fake their age in order to get a job as a stripper.
She pulls her license out of her
purse without reluctance and hands it to him. His eyes scrutinize it, taking in every detail.
Eventually, he hands the license back to her, seemingly satisfied that it’s not a fake. “So have you danced before?”
She laughs a little at that question. She knows he’s asking if she’s stripped…but his generalization leaves plenty of room for her to generalize her “dancing” experience. “Yes, I’ve danced before.”
Grant proceeds to ask Daniella several questions in regards to dancing, past employment, and her current lifestyle. It would seem that this club does everything in its power to avoid employing staff with lots of life drama and/or addictions. She has no problem responding to his questions with one hundred percent truth. The only thing she had to glaze over was her prior dancing experience. It’s not that she lied; she just didn’t give him the full truth.
Twenty minutes later, Daniella has been given the tour of the club, including the areas where only staff is allowed, and she’s filled out forms for employment. It would seem that she just got hired. As a stripper. And not only did she get hired, but she also picked her stripper name and confidently told her new manager that she’d be ready to dance in less than thirty-six hours. Somehow she managed all of this without seeing Penn Wilder.
She asked Grant about the owner of Wild Nights and his response was that he’s not as active with the club as he used to be. Daniella found herself surprisingly relieved about this fact, and she is praying that she can continue to fly under his radar. Maybe she can dance at Wild Nights for a few months before Penn actually realizes she’s one of his employees. Hell, if she only managed one month’s worth of tips from dancing, she would be in the clear. One month and she could pay this semester’s tuition.
As Daniella Pruitt walks out into the parking lot and hops inside her Ford Focus, all she can think about is what will happen tomorrow night…
It’ll be the first night that the patrons of Wild Nights will get their first introduction to Roxie.
Penn sits behind the large desk in his office located in one of the back rooms of Wild Nights. His eyes are busy reading through the recent contracts his lawyer just sent over. The contracts are the first step in his obtaining several new locations for opening more clubs. He loves everything he’s accomplished since opening his strip club. It was a fun business venture and has profited him immensely, but he’s recently focused his energy developing plans for clubs that aren’t of the erotic dancer variety. His five-year plan includes opening up several night clubs throughout the United States and selling his share of Wild Nights to his general manager, Grant Perkins.
Grant has been his right-hand man since Wild Nights opened, and Penn has recently given him most of the reins in terms of managing employees and handling the majority of the business’s operations. He knows the club is in good hands and that once it’s been fully passed over to Grant it will continue to succeed. It’s not that Penn doesn’t want to be associated with a strip club; he’s just ready to move on to bigger and better things. He’s learned a lot of lessons and gained invaluable experience with his first venture, and he’s more than prepared to try something new.
Grant steps into his office and closes the door. He makes himself comfortable in the leather chair facing Penn’s desk. “So I just hired a new dancer. I have a feeling she has a lot of potential,” he says, updating Penn with excitement in his voice.
He looks up from his desk and eyes Grant curiously. “Is that so?”
Grant nods encouragingly. “Yeah. She’s young and I’m sure she’ll have some things to learn, but I have a feeling she’ll end up being one of the best dancers we have.”
“How did you manage to find her?”
“I didn’t. She found me. I was behind the bar cleaning up from last night and lo and behold, she just walked right into the club and inquired about a job.” He chuckles loudly at the surprised look that crosses Penn’s face. “Don’t worry. She’s twenty-one and has actual identification to prove it. Although, I’m a little skeptical that she’s ever really danced before, but I’m going to introduce her to Kitty and let her show her the ropes.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Penn answers as he leans back in his office chair and undoes the buttons of his black blazer.
Grant cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing his current boss’s bland expression. “You don’t mind that I hired her, do ya?”
Penn raises a noncommittal hand in response. “Don’t be ridiculous. Considering that you’re going to be running this club in a few short months, I’m happy to see you take the reins.”
He smiles at his encouraging response. “Good. Well, I’ve got Roxie starting on the floor tomorrow night. The kid said she could easily get a dance routine together in time. Not gonna lie, I was a little taken back by her sass. She’s kind of a ball buster, but that’s the kind of personality we like around here. Our girls have to be able to hold their own and not hesitate to put cocksuckers with grabby hands in their place.”
Penn’s eyes go wide at the description of the new dancer. She sounds like the girl he can’t seem to get out of his head. Daniella Pruitt. He brushes off that ridiculous thought and nods in agreement to Grant’s prior statement.
“Sounds like you found a nice addition. I’ll make sure I stop by the club tomorrow night to see her big debut.”
Grant claps his hands together in excitement and hops out of the chair. “Fantastic! Are you gonna hang around here tonight, boss?” he inquires.
“Probably not, but I’ll make sure I’m here tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. I’ll hold down the fort for ya,” Grant says over his shoulder as he starts to walk out of the office.
“Grant, one more thing.”
He turns around and looks towards Penn inquisitively.
“Stop calling me boss.”
Grant chuckles loudly. “You got it.”
“Are you sure we haven’t met before, honey? You look awfully familiar.” A skeptical glance is thrown her way.
“I have one of those faces. People always think I look familiar,” Daniella answers, brushing the question off with ease. No way in hell is she going to let this stripper know she actually paid her—cheaply she might add—to give a Marine a lap dance the other night.
“This is the dressing room. Your little area is right here.” Kitty shows Daniella the empty vanity. The employee area for Wild Nights is surprisingly nice. Each stripper has her own spot decked out with a small closet and an area for hair and makeup.
“Wow. This is pretty nice.”
Kitty smiles wide, showing off her pearly whites. “I know. You should have seen the other place I stripped at. We had lockers.”
“Lockers?”
“You heard me right, honey. And the bathroom for the strippers and female customers was located in our dressing room. It was a god damn travesty,” she voices, making her Southern twang very apparent. Daniella finds Kitty’s comment about the last place she stripped being a travesty very ironic considering there’s an industrial-sized box of baby wipes sitting next to an enormously large bottle of baby oil in the middle of the dressing room.
Now, that’s a god damn travesty.
Kitty gestures to the communal table with her perfectly manicured hand—the table holding what Daniella guesses is the stripper survival kit. “That’s for everyone to use, sweetie. So help yourself to the baby wipes, baby oil, body glitter… Basically anything on that table is for your use.”
Her eyes go wide in disbelief. Baby oil? Body glitter? Is she really here?
“Did you and Grant decide on your name?” Kitty inquires as she sits down at her vanity, which is conveniently located next to Daniella’s. Her short silk robe does little to hide her naked body. And every other female who’s currently strolling around the dressing room seems to have little concern about walking around in the nude.
This is definitely going to take some getting used to.
She follows her new stripper friend’s lead and sits down besid
e her. “Uh, yeah. We chose Roxie.”
“Roxie,” she repeats, testing the name. “I really like that!” Kitty exclaims as she begins to powder her nose underneath the fluorescent lights of her vanity. “So have you danced before?”
“Well…sort of. I did ballet for over fourteen years. I just haven’t exactly danced in this sort of way…” Daniella trails off mid-sentence when she notices Kitty smirking at her with amusement.
“You told Grant a little white lie, didn’t ya?”
She cringes in response. “I didn’t exactly lie, per se. I just glazed over what kind of dancing experience I have. And it’s not like he directly asked me if I’ve stripped before. He just said, ‘Have you danced?’”
Giggles spill past Kitty’s scarlet-red lips. Her face beams with hilarity. “He was probably just so damn happy to get a young, hot thing like you in here that he didn’t really think through his questions. Can’t say I’m surprised though. Grant is pretty easy to get excited. He’s a really a good guy though. Fantastic boss. He’s worlds better than the slimy asshole I used to work for at Club Royale.”
Daniella’s chest fills with relief and her outlook on this new job has changed to considerably hopeful. “Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better,” she adds with genuine sincerity. “So do you know a lot about the actual owner?” She can’t help herself from asking this question.
“He’s hotter than sin and every single girl here is desperate to get into his pants, but the man is a fucking monk around his staff. He’s a pretty nice guy though. It’s a shame we won’t be seeing him around her too much longer. Word on the street is that he’s selling the rest of the club to Grant,” Kitty informs with a whisper.
“Good to know,” she responds quietly. A part of her is nearly sagging in relief that Penn hasn’t touched any of his staff, but another part of her, the very irrational part, is damn near spittin’ with anger that a bunch of strippers are lusting over him.
A group of women strides into room wearing very revealing clothing. It’s not even their stripper attire—it’s their everyday attire. Daniella finds herself rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Feather! Destiny! Goldie! Dawn! Misty!” Kitty yells in their direction. All five women turn around. “This is our new girl, Roxie.” She points a finger in Daniella’s direction.
Southern Seduction Page 8
