by Tara Oakes
“No... I can't let you do that. It's way too dangerous, Jess,” I protest.
Jess waives me off with a graceful twirl of her hand. “Don't be silly, Jules. We haven't got much of a choice here. I mean, it's the perfect cover.”
I'm lost. “What's the perfect cover?”
She smiles. “Places like that are always looking for new talent, right? How hard can it be to swing around a pole and take men's money?”
My eyes widen. Holy shit.
“Jess... I don't know about that. It takes.... you're too much of a good girl.”
Jess raises her chin in pride. “Oh, I can be a bad girl, Jules. You have no idea....”
CHAPTER TEN
JESSICA
So, this is what one of these places looks like. Hmm, who knew? Well, actually, most of the male population probably knows. But, it's not exactly the type of conversation that weaves its way into the chatter over at the yacht club.
It was easier than I had anticipated to get into, though. They should really rethink their security around here. These girls are probably walking out with hundreds of dollars a night. I know daddy always says the first rule to running a successful business is to cover all bases and protect your product. Theoretically, these girls are a type of product. After this is all over, I should really recommend one of daddy's consulting firms to the manager.
If I ever even get to meet him. I've been waiting in this damn office for nearly thirty minutes waiting for him to grace me with his presence. The bouncer at the door gave me a pretty thorough once-over before leading me back here. The manager's office was deep in the back of the place. I had tried to search the crowd of Stetson hats and shadowed faces while walking through, but the main room was too dark to spot him from afar.
The office I find myself in is not much brighter. The longer I sit and wait, the more I ponder the business model this place must follow. It must be a cash cow. Although catering to a slightly unsavory crowd, there could be opportunity in an operation like this. I'll have to talk about some possibilities to daddy about investing in a club like this.
The door behind me opens, with a rush of music following. “Hello there, darlin'. Jose’ tells me you're interested in some work.”
I don't need to turn to face the approaching voice, as he quickly passes me and seats himself behind the paper-cluttered desk before me. The slick looking suit seems new, the Stetson old. He appears to be in his mid-forties or so, clean shaven, piercing eyes. All around sleezeball in a nice package.
I clear my throat and perk up my chest a little.
“I'm Candy.” I reach my hand out to greet the gentleman, and I use that term loosely.
He leans slightly over his mounding desk and takes hold of my hand. “The pleasure is all mine, little lady.” He tugs my hand closer to him and plants his moist lips onto the back of my hand. He lingers there a tad too long, and I swear I feel the pressure of his slimy tongue on my skin. I wriggle my hand free and reclaim it. He chuckles a little at my obvious discomfort.
“The name’s Nick. Friends call me Nicky Fishy. Employees don't. Do you have any experience, darling?”
I raise my head smartly, while wiping the back of my hand on my skirt. “I do. I've been attending stripper cardio classes over at Pump Fitness for three years.”
Nick the Fish flashes a wicked, knowing smile. “Ah... I thought you looked a little wet behind the ears.”
I stir slightly, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment.
“I'm a nice guy, though. You've got that well-bred, society, good girl thing going for you. My customers are gonna eat that up. I'll give you a try. One of my regulars just got knocked up, gonna be out of rotation for a little while. You can have her spot if all goes well tonight. Let's make it official, shall we?”
My eyes light up. I think that was a formal job offer. Nick makes his way around the table.
“Stand up, little lady.” I oblige him. I hold my hand out in customary fashion. Nick promptly drops to his knees in front of me. “Throw your leg up on my shoulder, darlin'.”
I panic. What? Is he serious? My attempts to hide my panic go unnoticed.
“Relax, girl... just checking out the grooming situation. We have strict guidelines around these parts.”
I swallow hard. There's a lot riding on this. Julia is depending on me, so is Jay. I can't let them down.
I carefully slip my right foot back out of my sandal and place it lightly on Nick's shoulder. He smiles, an evil, distorted smile. He casually removes his hat and throws it onto the nearby couch. I can see a balding patch dead center of his greasy, slicked-back hair.
“That's it, darlin', open wide for daddy to take a look see. Make sure the goods are up to par. I stretch my hips just as far as the tight confines of my skirt will allow.
Nick dips his head low to clear the hemline and the forefront of his face disappears under it. I hear a loud swishing sound, followed almost immediately by a warm sticky breeze up my inner thighs. The bastard is sniffing me.
“Mmmm. That's top notch snatch right there.”
He quickly reappears and stands tall in front of me, darkness covering his eyes as they play a wicked dance over my body.
“I don't usually hold the final interview until after I've seen you on stage, but I think I need to make an exception this one time.”
I hear a distinct unzipping sound as Nick’s shoulders move. I cannot bring myself to lower my gaze to see what his hands are doing. The deep knot in the pit of my stomach tells me what's happening without having to look.
“Let's get to it,” he says nonchalantly. “You've got to finish up and get ready for your set.”
Hell no. Jules and Chris will just have to find another way. A quick knock at the door, breaks the tension and saves Nick the Fish from a swift kick in the nuts.
“Boss... we got a high roller looking for a one night special with Vicky.”
Jose’ enters the room, with a large shadowy figure behind him, lurking in the shadow of the hallway. Nick promptly lifts himself, tucking and zipping his crotch up.
“Shit, boy! I told you I'm in the middle of an interview here,” Nick reprimands him. I thank my lucky stars for the intrusion.
Jose’ barely looks flustered at the apparent scene he just interrupted.
“Sorry, Boss.”
Nick picks up his Stetson and returns it to its place on his skeevy little head.
“Whatever. We'll continue this later,” he assures me.
“Jose’,” he now turns his attention to the interloper. “This here is Candy. She's new. Show her the dressing room and get her ready to take Vixen's spot.”
I swallow hard and creep past, out of Nick's clutches to the entryway. My heart stops when I hear the voice.
“I think after I take a turn with this Vicky I've been hearing about, I'll try this one, too.”
Oh God, no.
I look up into Chris's eyes. I barely know him, nothing but a couple of nights and some weird connection under our belts, but I can read his eyes. Anger. He hates that I'm here. His harsh hand swoops out and roughly grabs my breast. His thumb jabs in through the opening between buttons on my blouse and finds its way to my hardened nipple.
“Excuse me, sir.” I try to hide the shivers working their way through my body at his touch.
“Just testing out the merchandise, sweetheart.”
He promptly pinches my nipple between his finger pads, hard enough to try an illicit some response. I don't give him the satisfaction. He does it again, harder. Oh, God. My eyes roll back, forgetting that I'm in some seedy back room of some sleazy strip club.
Nick clears his throat, heartily, behind me. “Payment is made first, Mr....”
“Hardy.” Chris doesn't lift his eyes from me as he answers Nick. “The name's Dalton Hardy.”
“Yes, well, Mr. Hardy. I may be able to work out some sort of package. But, this here Candy is a newbie. Price is gonna be steep for a deluxe introduction.”
&nbs
p; Chris’s next pinch latches on, allowing no mercy to my tender electrified nipple. “I understand completely. I think she'll be worth every penny.”
And with that, he releases me and walks past me into the manager's office. “Now... about this Vicky girl. I hear she's quite the lady.”
Anger sears through me. The sound of his words asking to hire the “services” of that tramp, are like sharp icicles piercing into my fiery heart. Undercover or not, the thought of him touching anyone but me infuriates me. I know we have no claim on each other. What are a couple of sex-crazed nights in the middle of an adrenaline filled experience worth, anyway? We come from two different worlds, he and I. They just happen to be intersecting momentarily.
******
The dressing room is tight, cramped. Makeup and scant costumes tossed about. The other girls barely raise their heads in recognition of my presence as Jose’ introduces me. I search around. None of them match the description of this Vicky chick. I quickly change into the tiny bikini styled uniform that I am given and thank God when I find the tags still attached. At least I know I won't be catching anything that would require antibiotics from my little undercover stint.
One of the smaller girls with a kind face looks over.
“Hi! I'm Kristy!” She extends a long acrylic finger-tipped hand to me. I take it.
“I'm Candy. It's my first night.”
She giggles. She seems young. Very young. “I figured. You don't look... like the rest of us.”
I'm sure that's true in more ways than one. The most obvious being my average-sized boobs. Let's just say they don't quite fill out my top the way hers do.
Kristy perks up at the sudden announcement of her name over the loudspeaker. Apparently... she's on next. “Well, good luck, sweetie. I'll see you later.”
With Kristy gone, some of the other girls take her lead and warm up to me. I plant some bait. “I had some random man ask for a package deal, with me and some girl named Vicky.”
The girls exchange glances.
“Wow... Nick's starting you up already, huh?” Some blond, I forgot her name already, says. “The tips are good, but private appointments are where the real money is. Vicky's been pretty busy with those, for a new girl and all. She's doing one right now upstairs. She's a pro. Been doing it a long time back where she's from, I think. She'll show you the ropes.”
She greases herself up with some kind of oil, but decides to give me a little more of her attention. “Make sure they use a condom, doll.” She shakes her head in disgust. “They always try to get away with that shit.”
OMG. This place is a whorehouse! These women are prostituting themselves out. The feminist activist in me wants to scream and tell these women to run like hell and not be exploited anymore. But I know their lives are more complicated than I can imagine and there are probably some pretty deep-seated reasons as to why they're here.
I try to shake it off, keep my cover. “Sure, thing.”
Our conversation abruptly ends as Jose’ storms in again, eyes lingering on the exposed flesh of the dressing strippers.
“Uh... Candy! You've got a private client before your set. Follow me, I'll take you upstairs to one of the private lounges.”
I gulp hard. I swear, it better be Chris.
“Sure, let me just grab...” I think fast. What sounds plausible? “...my stash of rubbers.”
It must have been believable, because Jose’ doesn't bat an eyelash as I dig into my purse. I stick my phone into my little coin purse to conceal it, and carry the small pouch loosely in my hand as I follow the bouncer/bodyguard out.
As I'm leaving, I overhear some voices from behind. “I guess she's more experienced than she looks.”
Glad to know I can realistically pass for a hooker if need be.
******
The bedroom-sized “lounge” is complete with a satin sheet covered queen sized bed and leather seating. There's a bedside chest with bottles of lotions and little plastic “accessories”.
I unzip my small coin pouch and swipe across the screen of my phone. I select the microphone app I downloaded last semester for recording Professor Green's sociology classes. Hiding my voice activated phone behind one of the leather chairs, I quickly take a seat on the edge of the bed and cross my legs as I hear the door handle jiggling.
A tall, blonde, negligee-clad woman with massive boobs barely covered in neglige struts in. “Oh.” She notices me. “I guess this is a group appointment. Look here, darlin'...” I can't help but get the same sleazy vibe as I did for Nick when she uses his catch phrase. “Keep your affections on the John. We don't touch unless he throws some extra cash our way, got it?”
I nod blankly. Please let the client be Chris. I'm gonna freak if this is a real “appointment.”
“Uh, sure.” I hold out my hand. She eyes it, but decides against shaking it, leaving me in that awkward position. “I'm Candy. Nice to meet you... uh... Vicky, is it?” I bring my hand back in.
The woman busies herself with some last minute grooming. “That's right. You the new girl?” She barely looks at me as she's speaking, as if I'm not worth her full attentions. Bitch.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I'm new. First time.” I think fast. “This is my first time. I'm actually glad I'm not alone. I was nervous how to handle it if things turned bad. I've heard some of these guys can get rough.”
Vicky snorts is an evil laughter kind of way. “Don't worry, princess.” I don't exactly like the way she says the nickname. It's very condescending, but I play along. “I know just how to handle these assholes. I've had more than enough practice.”
Now we're getting somewhere. My eyes instinctively dart over to the hidden corner. I see the faint red light flashing, indicating that the phone is still recording. I press further. “Yeah, you look like you can take care of yourself. Guys probably think twice before messing with you, right?”
Vicky applies some sort of lip liner to her pout, using the ceiling mirrors to guide her reflection. “You would think so, right? Only one guy ever underestimated me.” Her head tilted back at an unnatural angle to watch the makeup application above. “Let's just say he's not breathing to tell the tale or do it again.”
Fuck. That was way to easy. Is it enough, though? I don't want to mess this up, too many people are counting on me. I need more. “Wow, good for you. Did you get locked up?”
Vicky smacks her fuck-me red lips together loudly. “Nah... some poor sucker took the fall.”
“Really? And they still let you work here? I would have thought something like that would make you want to get out of here pronto, not risk something getting shaken up.”
Vicky smoothes some lotion into her legs. “It's far away from here. A done deal.”
I take a handful of the lotion myself and rub it into my own bare legs to calm my shaky, jittery hands. “That's good, I guess. How far away was it?
“You sure ask a lot of questions. You should know better than to get in people's business.” She eyes me suspiciously. Crap. I need to change the subject, like now.
As I think of a new, safe topic, the buzzing of my cell phone jumping across the floor breaks the sudden silence. I close my eyes tight. Fuck.
“What's that?' Vicky looks past me to try to see where the offending sound is coming from.
I move to block her view. “Uh, nothing.”
The phone continues to vibrate as the incoming call notification continues. Double fuck.
“Is that a phone? You're not allowed to have a phone in here. Who are you?” She's onto me.
“Chris!” I scream out. I manage to get the word out completely, in my loudest voice before she grabs hold of me and starts to claw at my skin. “Chris! Help!” I call out again.
The door crashes in, with Chris rushing to tackle the glamazon with her hands around my neck. He pushes her off me. The lack of oxygen has made my vision hazy and I cough dry air into my lungs. The damage was done, though, and I feel the sleepiness taking over. I slump over, giving in t
o the overwhelming urge to close my eyes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LILS
“Hey, momma!” Sunny calls to me as she and Tiny enter the clubhouse, carrying trays of food. “Where can we put all this?”
I swivel around, my slightly protruding belly pressing against the thin fabric of my shirt. I struggle to get up, my newfound weight altering my sense of balance. “Hey, guys! You can just take it into the kitchen. Jean’s sorting through everything.”
I reach Sunny and give her a peck on the cheek. My attempt to unhand her platter of sandwiches to help lighten her load is thwarted by my quick-acting brother.
“Don't you dare. No heavy lifting.” He shouts out to the new prospect behind the bar. “Hey, Shoop. Make yourself useful and get your ass over here and give my lady a hand. You gonna let a pregnant lady step up and do what your sorry ass is supposed to?”
“Ah, shit. Sorry Lil’s,” Shoop throws his bar towel over his shoulder and scurries over to take Sunny's items from her. Poor guy. He's barely a few months into prospecting, but they haven't let up at all. He's in for a long ride.
Sunny gratefully hands over the food, freeing her hands to rest on my midsection and give a rub. “Hey, baby!” She calls into my belly. “Are you ready for your first club cookout?”
I laugh. We're both ready. It's been a quiet two months since all of the craziness, but this is the first real get-together since. Tiny hands his own packages over to another prospect who runs up behind Shoop, and he wraps his arms around both Sunny and me, turning us in the direction of the door to the yard.
“So Lil's. Where's Jay?” my big brother asks.
“He's manning the grill,” I divulge my husband’s whereabouts.
Tiny laughs deep, a full belly laugh. “Oh great. We'll be having hockey pucks for burgers.”
The yard is full of Kingsmen, ol' ladies and families. Music is blaring and there are even a few games going on. Volleyball, horseshoes. It's a standard, run-of-the-mill family cookout.
