Chapter 3 #2
“Your job would be to keep the men in ‘the zone.’ Happy, comfortable, and spending. It’s simple, and even though you won’t make as much as the dancers in tips, you can earn a really good wage.
” She stops in the center of the room. “You’ll intermingle.
Go between these tables and offer shots.
They’re a straight five bucks a piece. If they pay you more, you keep it.
” Roz begins to walk, giving me a tour, and I note every nook and cranny I can see.
I’d just be another face. No one here would suspect me.
I’ve been away at school, and I’ve kept a low profile in town.
Nothing is in my name, the house I live in is my mother’s, the car I drive belonged to my grandfather.
I don’t even have any friends. The closest thing to that is my fifty-five-year-old trainer and his wife.
I gave up on friends years ago when my dad started wanting to screen their families first.
My gut is sure as I follow her that this is exactly the way to find out who was with Nic when she was assaulted.
If I find proof, I can take it to Mason.
If I find out Nic was wrong, well, then I guess it’s a summer job that I’ll apparently make a fortune at.
Which will help pay down my student loans and support my last year at school. Two birds, one stone.
“All your shots will be counted and entered into the system. We’ve had trouble in the past with…dishonesty, and boss doesn’t take that lightly,” Roz continues. There’s a warning in those words that only someone who’s experienced club life would understand. If I steal, I die.
I nod. “Noted.”
“Those are the offices in the back. They’re off-limits.” Roz points to a series of rooms as we pass off the main space. “The dressing rooms are back here.” She gestures through an open door. “We have plenty of clothes if you don’t have a suitable collection at home.”
“What’s the dress code?” I ask, curious.
“Just look sexy as hell…in whatever makes you feel sexy. A woman who feels good looks good and oozes confidence.”
It irritates me that I actually love that.
“Okay.”
“The trays can get heavy after you carry them all night, but you look like you’re in good shape.”
“I…work out a lot,” I tell her, omitting my brown belt in jujitsu and my years spent training with Briggs, because this is a need-to-know type of conversation.
Roz stops in front of the stage. She’s taller than my five feet seven inches, and it’s obvious she’s seen some shit in her lifetime.
She has a tough stance about her, but I’ll admit I do like her already.
“We have two absolute rules here.”
“Always wrap it up and payday is Friday?” I ask with that hint of my father’s blunt humor. Apparently, Roz isn’t a fan.
She moves closer, her tone and smile coated in sugar as she places her hand on my shoulder.
“Not quite. Look, Mia, I’ll level with you.
You could make us some good money shakin’ that ass and slinging drinks, but you’ll get bitch-slapped into next week if you talk to the other girls like that.
You aren’t better than them, and it would serve you well to remember that. ”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod, unable to stop myself from saying it this time.
“Rule number one, we don’t fraternize with our guests.”
“Fraternize?”
“Sex, blow jobs, hand jobs, touching you in any way that gets them off or makes you uncomfortable. Hell, even if they want to pay just to get you off. All of it is a big no.”
“No sex happens here? Even for the highest bidders?” I look up at her. “I’ve heard rumors from…friends,” I add. Friends being your boss’s rival club.
“Not anymore.” She shakes her head. “This place has been under new management for two years. We’re a gentlemen’s establishment now.
We don’t fuck them, touch them, or give any one of them special attention over another.
Flirt? Yes. But I don’t care if the richest man in Georgia walks through those doors and offers you a million dollars for your pussy, it happens somewhere else. Not here. Got it?”
“That’s an easy one. I don’t fuck for money,” I say matter-of-factly.
Actually, I’ve never fucked at all. Which is unheard of these days for a twenty-two-year-old.
I’m not saving myself for someone special, and I’m not a prude.
On the contrary, the places my mind goes when I’m getting myself off scare me sometimes.
The thought of being chased or threatened, the fear and the thrill of it.
All that adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Feeling alive. I realized early on, I don’t want some boy softly kissing my neck or whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
What I need to turn me on is the pure, unadulterated passion that would come from straddling that fine line between desire and fear while a man fucked me, roughly and relentlessly.
The uneasiness of knowing that those very desires are similar to the ones that drove my sister to search for a stranger online, beginning her spiral, always brings reality crashing back down.
“Good,” Roz says, interrupting my internal struggle. “And two, what the boss says goes. No questions asked.”
“And this boss, Aiden… Do we see him often?” I know he must be here somewhere. Roz glances back at me with a questioning look on her face. “He just seems like he might be a scary man,” I add quickly, covering my interest with fake innocence and fear.
She looks me dead in the eye as we walk back to the bar.
“Oh, honey. He absolutely is.”
The way she says it, so sure, so full of conviction, has me picturing all sorts of things that would make any normal person run and never look back. Not me, instead I follow her deeper into the club.
“Come on, you can have a look through the dressing room. Like I said, the most important thing is that you feel comfortable and beautiful in your own skin. Highlight whatever you think your best features are.” She taps me lightly on my chin right where my noticeable scar is.
“A girl always knows what her best features are.”
I let out a soft laugh.
“What’s funny?”
I shrug. “I just expected you to tell me to wear whatever would show the most tits and ass. And sell the most booze.”
“We do want you to sell, but more importantly, we want you to feel good about yourself here. The men’s entertainment industry doesn’t have to be a degrading career. It’s an art. And the sooner you stop comparing us to any other club, the better off you’ll be.”
“Roz, beer delivery is here.” A pretty girl with dark hair pokes her head around the corner just after we enter the large dressing room.
“Be right back. Have a look around, and try some things on if you want,” Roz says to me as she turns to the brunette. “This is Mia. Hopefully she’s our new hire.”
“Hey, I’m Libby.” She smiles at me, happy and almost wholesome looking. Her dark hair shines, and her voice is high and peppy. “What’s ours is yours,” she says as she turns to follow Roz down the hall. I give my head a shake. A strip club that feels like some kind of sorority? Does that exist?