5. Colton #3
“The partition lends enough to the imagination where you can see our figure without being able to see the details…yet,” she explains as she pulls the fabric over her hips before turning to the side so I can see the points of her breasts briefly before they are covered as the dress is pulled up by two thin straps.
The partition rises back into the ceiling as she turns her back to me, closing the zipper in time with the rise of the barrier.
Once the partition is lifted, Hannah walks towards me, aiming for the space between my legs, which I quickly close, cutting off her path and halting her progress. She gives me a sultry smile, thinking I’m shy or just playing hard to get.
Not playing.
“It’s by far the most popular of the private rooms, at least for us. But usually only the really, really high-end clients book it,” she explains, making sure to emphasize the “really” part of her explanation.
“I mean, yeah, the private rooms are pricey, but it doesn’t seem that outrageous, given the clientele. Honestly, this one doesn’t seem anymore outlandish than the other rooms,” I say, not really understanding why this particular room would have a popularity above the others.
“Ha, yeah, hold that thought and press the little next button,” she instructs.
When I do, I’m greeted with an array of bling that my poor bank account has never even dreamed of affording.
Rolex watches, Cartier tennis bracelets, Harry Winston necklaces and a myriad of other choices I can’t even pronounce.
The page dripping in enough diamonds to make Liberace blush.
“Holy shit.” It’s the only thing I can think of when my eyes scan over the price tags attached to the items. “You’ve got to be kidding. People actually buy these? Why?”
“Oh, they buy them,” she lets out a throaty laugh.
“For the dancers. It’s part of the appeal for this private room.
When they select an item from this list, it alerts one of our security team to take the item out of the vault and put it in the two-point entry little cubby over there.
” She points to a small brass handle that looks like one of those old apartment trash chutes, except when she walks over and opens it, it’s a small velvet-covered square area with a matching door on the other side.
A snug little home for jewelry to be placed on and moved from one side to the other, without ever breaking the illusion that the two people in this room are alone. An island to themselves.
“Their banks accounts associated with membership are automatically charged, and they get to put it on the dancer themselves, then watch as they take off everything except the icing they paid for. Watching it sway on their bodies as they move.” She’s smiling now, a dreamy look having taken over her features, fingers trailing lightly over a bare collar, obviously recounting the jewels she’s had draped over her body in this room.
“Obviously Harper takes a cut of the jewelry though, if she even lets you keep it. Probably just recycles the same pieces over and over, right?” I question. Immediately the dreamy look falls from her face, to be replaced with a scowl and a look of deep disgust.
“Of course not. Ms. Mathers never asks us for the jewels back or to split profits if we sell them. They are for us to keep and do with as we please. I don’t even know if she keeps track of which staff member takes home what piece.
” The declaration laced with so much loyalty I can feel myself shrinking back in shame.
I also didn’t miss the subtle reminder to respect the hand that feeds us, or in this case, the hand that clasps our jewels.
“In fact, the only thing she does ensure, is that one of the security team members walk us out at the end of the night, even if we leave in a big group at once, we are always escorted,” she levels at me, just to make sure I know that I offended her, in case her downturn pout and harsh tone weren’t enough of a hint.
“I had no idea, but I’m happy to work for a woman who treats her employees so well.
Ms. Mathers certainly must be an inspiring and fair boss, to elicit such fierce defense,” I reply.
“I certainly am lucky to be here,” I tack on, really aiming to drive home my point.
Hannah seems satisfied by my back-pedaling, giving me a firm nod.
“No wonder the room is so popular with the staff. Who would want anything else? Though I suppose they don’t have to add it on,” I say, contemplating how often patrons are truly buying the extravagant add-ons as I scroll through page after page of diamonds and jewels.
“Oh, every single dance. It’s an ego thing,” she shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“We wear the jewelry the rest of the night. It’s like a dick-measuring contest, but with carat sizes instead of rulers.
A ring here, a necklace there, some nights you end up with multiple pieces as members of the same group try to one up each other. ”
I knew I would be responsible for restocking jewelry inventory, but I was thinking it was costume materials, not bracelets worth more than the house I grew up in.
A few large charges to clients stood out when I was going over some of the financial details, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this is what they were being used for.
I would sooner have believed she was illegally trafficking guns or exotic animals than believe men and women were paying for jewelry to decorate Harper’s dancers.
I will be working with high end jewelers and making connections with fashion brands that the average person hasn’t even heard of.
Hannah clears her throat, standing in front of me once again, obviously not impressed that I let myself get distracted by the tablet in front of me and the workings of the club instead of keeping my eyes on her.
“The show isn’t over yet,” she whispers, voice breathy as she lifts a delicate hand to one of her straps, inching it down her shoulder.
I stand quickly in front of her, forcing her back a step even as her smile becomes predatory. I feel a pang of sympathy for the girl as I reach up and slide her strap back into place, resting on her slim shoulder.
How could I fall prey to a fox when the lioness already has her claws in me?