Diamond Girl

by ANDREA SMITH

  Someone tapped lightly on her door.

  “What?” she hollered out.

  'Boston Kevin' poked his head in the door to let Janine know that another candidate was waiting to be interviewed.

  “Tell her to sit tight; I may not need to interview her depending upon how things go here.”

  He nodded and shut the door.

  “So, Sam - are you interested?”

  “I might be,” I said, surprising myself. “What will my shift be?”

  “Tuesday, Thursday and Friday; 6:00 p.m. to 10:30 p.m; that is considered our second shift. We stagger the dancers so you will dance about once every half hour. You are expected to socialize with the customers, up to a limit.”

  “What’s the limit?”

  “Don’t worry; you’ll be the first to know if you go beyond it. We have plenty of bouncers and servers that keep their eye out for any funny stuff. They report any behavioral issues directly to me or the assistant manager, Lenny. One of us is always here.”

  She pulled several forms out of her desk drawer handing them to me.

  “Here is a listing of proper attire and where to purchase. You are required to have at least four different ensembles to wear and rotate. The next sheet is our code of conduct which is strictly enforced, the third one is to be filled out and returned for setting you up on payroll. I will need photo identification to copy for your personnel file.”

  This was all going so fast. I was in a fog only half hearing what Janine was saying. My God! What was Jack going to say when I told him? Who cares, I thought, smiling inside. This was mine - all mine.

  “Now,” Janine said, “You will need to be fitted for a dancer’s wig. You’ll need to get here an hour before your first shift on your first day so that Margo can show you how you need to be made up. After that, you are responsible for doing your own make-up unless you arrange in advance for Margo to do it. Don’t forget, she works on total commission from the dancers. The club will provide you with your wig and make-up case. You are responsible for buying your own ensembles per the listing I gave you. Make sure you get some coordinating palm gloves to go with your ensembles. You will have horrible blisters if not.”

  I continued to nod as Janine continued to give me instructions.

  “Lastly,” she said, “You need to either get some tanning sessions or schedule a body spray tan session about once a week. Tanned bodies are sexier bodies. If you have an aversion to using a tanning bed, there are plenty of salons that do the spray tan thing.”

  I nodded again; that was going to be my choice. I had never taken to using tanning beds.

  “So; do you have any questions for me, Sam?”

  “When do I start?”

  CHAPTER 6

  I sat in front of the lighted mirror in the dancer’s dressing room behind the stage. This was my third week working. It was a Friday night and the place had filled up fast. Margo came up behind me and twirled the chair around so that she could finish applying my false eyelashes. They had glitter in them. After make-up, Margo would finish my hair. It was worth it to me to have her do this and I had been quick to line her up for my pre-shift appointments. She had always done the former ‘Diamond’s hair and make-up.

  Jack had returned from his nearly two week trip to Charlotte unexpectedly this morning. We had spoken several times on the phone during his trip; mostly it was him calling me to remind to take something to the cleaners, then again to remind me to pick it up. He had talked to Lindsey because he knew about her going skiing over the Thanksgiving holiday which was quickly approaching.

  I had concocted a last minute excuse for leaving at 4:30 to head to the club. I hadn’t told Jack that I had a part-time job yet. I hadn’t told anyone.

  Luckily, I had taken all of my dancing ensembles, including my six pairs of new spiked heels and boots to the club. We all had lockers there. My make-up case was in the back of my Mercedes, along with my wig case. I had washed and conditioned the long, light brunette wig that I wore as ‘Diamond.’ It was cut beautifully in long layers; the front had long bangs, feathered around the face. It was quite stunning. I had been surprised to find out that it was human hair. It had to have cost the club a pretty penny.

  My own hair was a bit more of a blondish-brown. It fell almost to my shoulders. The hair in my wig fell way past my shoulders. I could wear it up in fancy hairstyles, with sexy wisps hanging down around my face to frame it in playful, wispy curls. Margo had styled it for me my first two nights dancing; she could work magic with everything having to do with hair, make-up and wardrobe. I loved her from the moment Janine had introduced us.

  Margo was in her mid-thirties, too. She had shared with me that she had danced until about five years ago. Her husband had made her quit once they got married. She had laughed when she told me that they had actually met due to him being a regular at the club.

  “He used to leave me humungous tips,” she said, “He always came in on just the nights I danced. He discouraged any other dudes from tipping me. He kind of staked his claim right off the bat I guess you could say. It really kind of pissed me off at first; then I saw how sweet and kind he was, I was in love. I guess I should be thankful he doesn’t forbid me from doing the hair and make-up for the dancers.”

  Oh God, one of those, I thought. I then mentally smacked myself for thinking like that; after all, I had pretty much let Jack define me for all of these years.

  “What does your husband do?” I asked as she put the finishing touches on my hair with a generous sprinkling of glitter.

  “He manages the Harley shop downtown. He’s looking to buy into it because the current owner wants to spend more time at their vacation home in Denver during the summer. It’s fine by me. We just have to see how we can swing the financial part of it. There you are, Diamond; you look perfect once again.”

  She twirled the chair back around so that I could see the finished product. She did excellent work. I didn’t recognize myself. Margo had once again successfully transformed me from plain old Samantha into the beautiful and mysterious ‘Diamond’. I loved being someone else while I was at the club - anyone else other than who I really was would do.

  “You certainly work magic, Margo,” I said, pressing two twenty dollar bills into her hand. “Thank you.”

  “No magic needed for you, Diamond, you got the look going.”

  We were interrupted when a high-pitched, whiney voice demanded Margo’s attention. It was Garnet, the petite red-haired dancer that worked the same shift as me.

  “Can you spare a few minutes to work on me, Margo?” Her tone was all about irritation; she gave me a quick glance then mentally dismissed me. I wasn’t sure what I had done to earn her dislike, but it was evident in her dismissive attitude towards me.

  “Sure, Garnet. Take a seat.”

  I left to finish dressing. My dance was coming up and the place was fairly packed. I wasn’t going to let Garnet’s whiney-ass attitude dampen my mood. My mood always seemed to escalate when I was dancing at the club. I loved it; the money was pretty damn good too. I had been shocked when I counted my tips up after the first couple of nights I worked. I had made a little over four hundred dollars my first night; and nearly six hundred my second one. After that, I pretty much averaged anywhere from five to seven hundred per night. Not too shabby for doing something that I absolutely loved doing.

  I heard my name being announced as next up on the dance floor. I moistened my lips, smoothed my sequenced boy shorts into place, and checked that my garters were straight. Showtime!

  I had finished my number and was headed back to the dressing room to change when Janine intercepted me.

  “Got a customer that wants to buy you a drink Diamond; he’s over at Table Six.”

  I still was not totally comfortable with this part of the job. It wasn’t that any hanky-panky took place; Janine and the bouncers were really strict about that, it was simply a matter of my being out of my comfort zone. I was a dancer; not a talker. It went with the t
erritory though; I needed to get used to it.

  “Sure thing,” I replied, turning back and heading out into the crowded room. Table Six was close to the horseshoe bar nearest the entrance. I saw the lone gentleman sitting there; he smiled as I approached. He looked like he was late fifties, perhaps early sixties. He reminded me of someone that my father might associate with in his line of business. It was obvious the man was a businessman of some sort.

  He stood as I got to the table, holding the chair next to him out for me to take a seat.

  “Thank you,” I murmured in the husky voice I used exclusively at the club.

  “What would you like to drink, Diamond?” he asked, motioning Renaldo over. His voice was soft; it lingered on my name a bit too long, as if he liked the way it felt on his lips and tongue. My creep radar was out big time.

  “Club soda is fine,” I replied. He placed our drink order, turning his full attention back to me.

  “My name is Harry; I want to know everything about you, Diamond, every last detail.”

  This was typical of how these club one-on-one conversations went. Janine had clued me in to develop a fictional story then stick with it.

  “Well Harry,” I crooned huskily, “There’s not a lot to tell. I was born in Kansas City; lost my parents in a car accident when I was just three years old. My grandparents raised me on a farm. Needless to say, this girl was not about to be tied down on a farm for the rest of her life. So after I graduated high school, I high tailed it to Chicago. That’s where I learned to dance; been doing it ever since. I came to Indy about three years ago; Chicago is just not a safe place for a single girl these days.”

  “I can imagine,” he said, his eyes were locked on my cleavage. I noticed his tongue dart quickly over his lips. He was totally creeping me out now. Renaldo brought my club soda and Harry’s martini. Harry didn’t bat an eye when Renaldo collected the fifty dollars from him for this round of drinks.

  “What about you, Harry? Tell me a little something about yourself.” I gave him a smile as if I was really interested in knowing something about Harry. The truth was I was close to spitting my club soda down the front of him at this moment, hoping some of it would land in his crotch and dampen his spirits. I wasn’t pleased that his hand was occasionally rearranging his junk while he ogled my tits.

  I laughed inside thinking about how much my demeanor had changed in three short weeks. The influence of the other dancers; bouncers and even Janine had given me a hard edge that was new to me. I couldn’t imagine saying ‘junk’ and ‘tits’ to Brenda.

  “So that’s pretty much why I’m here in Indy. I’ll be going back and forth to conclude business for the next couple of months.”

  (Shit! I hadn’t been paying attention to Harry’s conversation - something about mergers and acquisitions I think.)

  “That is so fascinating, Harry. You must really love what you do,” I commented as if I had actually heard him.

  “Honestly,” he purred, scooting closer, “I find what you do much more fascinating than anything else. How much for a private dance?”

  Thankfully, I was spared giving him an answer right then when a group of bikers came in through the entrance. I knew the bouncers would be congregating nearby; bikers weren’t really the type of clientele that the club welcomed. There were about six of them; they took seats at the horseshoe bar. They all had the trademark black, leather jackets on which sported some type of insignia as to which biker club they belonged.

  Garnet was up on the stage; as she paraded her scantily clad body just above them, this prompted loud whistles, hoots and hollers from the bikers. She was eating it up. Garnet loved attention; it mattered little to her from where it came.

  Harry was getting impatient as I had yet to respond to his question since my attention had been diverted to the bikers.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “I asked about your giving me a private dance, Diamond.”

  “Oh yes. I mean no - I don’t offer that service.”

  I could tell this did not sit well with Harry. He frowned as if he was not going to accept my answer.

  “I’m almost sure that the last time I was in here, I was able to get a private dance from one of the girls.”

  “That may be so, Harry,” I replied, “I’m sure Garnet, Ruby, Jade or Pearl would be happy to provide that for you. I personally, do not offer that service.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I just don’t,” I replied, not bothering to mask my irritation at this point.

  “I will certainly compensate you generously, Diamond; perhaps you will reconsider?”

  His tongue flicked over his lips again, his eyes were boring into mine. He was a determined son-of-a-bitch; I gave him that.

  “Look Harry,” I said, smiling, “It’s been fun chatting with you but I do have to get changed for my next number; if you’ll excuse me, please.”

  His hand found my arm as I started to get up from the chair. He grasped it tightly, forcing me to gasp as I turned to face his angry eyes.

  (Shit! That was a no-no; where in the hell are the bouncers?)

  I tried to tug my arm from his grasp; the son-of-a-bitch was stronger than he looked.

  “Listen,” he hissed, his voice having lost its softness.

  “No, you listen old man; take your fucking paws off of her and do it now. I believe the lady has declined your invitation.” The voice had a steely edge to it; it had come from behind me.

  I turned to see who had come up to the table. I gazed up into the very intense blue eyes of one of the bikers. He was tall and muscular; his thick, dark hair hit the collar of his leather jacket. His face was rugged, yet young. He was gorgeous.

  I felt Harry’s hand drop from my arm. I pulled it back to my side; instantly aware of those magnificent blue eyes on me, taking a long, leisurely look as if he was checking for damage. I felt my face flush.

  “Are you alright?”

  I started to answer when Vince, one of the bouncers, came up to the table.

  “Is he causing a problem with you, Diamond?” he asked, nodding his head toward the biker. I quickly looked up into those smoldering blue eyes and saw his mouth twitch into a slow smile.

  (God he was hot!)

  “Actually no, Vince. He was assisting me with a customer who didn’t understand that I don’t give private dances.”

  Vince looked over at Harry immediately sensing a good paying customer.

  “So are you clear on that now, sir?”

  Harry nodded, giving all of us a frown. Vince turned his attention back to the biker.

  “Look dude, we don’t need you butting into our business here. That’s what I do; my job is to work with the customers and provide clarification, got it?”

  The biker didn’t bat an eye at Vince. “It looks to me like you were a little late on this one, Ace. Your customer there had his hands on the girl; someone needed to intervene on her behalf.”

  I could see that Vince was now starting to get all pissed off at being taken to task by this biker. I needed to resolve the issue before it became a battle.

  “Hey, I appreciate your help, Mr.?”

  “Slate,” he said, his eyes locking with mine, “Just call me Slate.”

  “Thank you, Slate,” I said huskily, my heart skipping a beat.

  “Any time, Diamond,” he replied, giving me a sexy smile. He turned going back to his group. I watched as he sauntered away, totally mesmerized by his powerful presence. That was the only way that I could describe it. There was a sense of power he exuded; and it was sexy; damn sexy.

  “Don’t go there, Diamond,” Vince cautioned. “Bikers are bad news, babe.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The bus pulled over at my usual stop at the Park and Drive lot. The attendant was on duty until midnight which gave me a sense of security. He waved as I walked past his station and went to my parking spot. This is where I parked my car on the nights I worked at Jewels. There was no way I wa
s parking my Mercedes in the club lot; there was no way I was going to be put into a position to explain why I drove a Mercedes to begin with and then worked as a pole dancer. It was much easier this way.

  I had changed into my street clothes; leaving my hair and make-up intact until I got home. I had my wig case in the back seat.

  Hopefully, I could get into the bathroom off of the main hall and wash the makeup off before I faced Jack, provided he was still awake. He accepted my excuse that this was a ‘girl’s night out’ with Brenda and another mutual friend of ours, Annie. He hadn’t seemed to give it much thought one way or the other.

  I had my routine down pat at the club. I parked my car downtown, then took a bus to the club, and caught the last one incoming at 11:15 p.m. One of the bouncers always walked me out. The bus stop was on the corner and he waited until I was safely aboard. None of my co-workers knew much about me with the exception of Janine. I didn’t have to worry about her; she was simply pleased that I wasn’t a twenty-something scatter-brain as she put it.

  My mind drifted back to Slate for perhaps the hundredth time this evening. I shivered thinking of the way his eyes had skimmed over me with an almost appreciative look. My God! What was I thinking? He was probably in his early to mid-twenties! I needed to get over it. Those days of getting butterflies by fantasizing about bad boy sex were over.

  Hell, for me they had never begun. Maybe this was all about my lost youth. I quashed it from my mind for the time being.

  Luckily, Jack was in bed when I returned home. I showered downstairs getting into a comfortable pair of jammies. I curled up on the couch with the remote and fell asleep. For some reason, I didn’t want to sleep next to Jack tonight.