Chapter 1 #2
Shortly afterward, a cute brunette with a radiant smile and just the right amount of curves walked in.
She was wearing the typical short skirt and a bright red tank top that clung to her breasts—the same kind of thing every chick wore when they came into my office.
I could tell this wasn’t her first rodeo when she stepped up to my desk, extended her hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Jessie.
I’m here about the night dancer-stripper position. ”
I nodded, then motioned my hand towards the chair in front of me. "Have a seat and tell me about what experience you have.”
“Okay.” She sat down and continued, “I’ve worked at the Pink Pony for almost three years now. I’ve done really well there, but I think it’s time for a change.”
“Oh, really? And why’s that?”
“Nothing in particular,” she lied. “I just think it’s time for me to move on.”
“Mm-hmm.” I should’ve pushed for more information, but I was eager to get this shit done. “You have any priors I need to be aware of?”
“Nope. I have a clean record. No STDs or psycho boyfriends. I’m in my third semester at Nashville State.” She was cool, calm, and collected. It was clear Jessie was confident in her abilities when she said, “I’m good at what I do, and you won’t regret hiring me.”
“Okay, then. Let’s see what ya got.”
Without having to clarify, Jessie got up and started to dance around the room as she slipped her tank over her head, revealing her perfectly round, fake breasts.
She swayed her hips in a circular motion while easing her miniskirt down her long tan legs.
Jessie was right. This girl was good. I could only imagine what she could do with a pole.
When she started to remove her thong, I held up my hand and said, “That’s good. You can stop there.”
“You sure about that?” A lustful spark flashed through her eyes when she added, “I’ve got other skills you might be interested in.”
“You won’t be needing those skills here, Jessie. If you get the job, you’ll make plenty of money. You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” She placed the palms of her hands flat against my desk as she leaned forward and purred. “I want to. I think we could have a good time.”
It was tempting, very tempting, but I looked down at my groin and there was nothing.
Not so much as the slightest twitch. Neither of us were interested in sinking into her or any of the other strippers that came into this office.
I’d been in a position like this many times before and had made the mistake of taking various women up on their offers.
It was fun, but only for the moment. Things inevitably turned out fucking insane.
They’d either think it meant more and become a psycho stalker or they’d expect particular privileges ’cause they sucked my dick.
I was too old for that kind of shit, so I shook my head and said, “Not gonna happen. Now get dressed, and I’ll call if you make it to the second round. ”
“Second round?”
“The top four applicants will come back later tonight for a full audition.”
“Oh, okay.” She quickly got dressed, and on her way out, she said, “Thanks for the opportunity.”
I nodded, then looked down at my desk in search of the next application and had just picked it up when Marlowe peeked her head inside the doorway. “How’d it go?”
“Not too bad.” I glanced back at the paper and said, “You can send in…Brittney.”
“Sure thing.”
She hadn’t been gone long when Brittney appeared in my doorway.
I could tell the moment she stepped into my office she wasn’t eighteen—not even close.
I quickly sent her on her way and moved to the next.
Like Brittney, I could tell the second she walked in she was a no-go.
The chick had two left feet and looked completely stoned.
I was starting to get impatient when I told Marlowe to send in Brandy.
I went through the same spiel with her that I’d gone through with Jessie, and to my surprise, she’d also been working at the Pink Pony.
The same held true for the next girl … and the next.
I wasn’t a fan of taking business from another club, so when Mazie, yet another girl from the Pink Pony, appeared in front of me, I asked, “What’s going on over at the Pink Pony? ”
“Nothing,” she lied. “It’s just time for me to make a change.”
“Hmm. Your other buddies said the same thing.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms as I pushed, “I’m not buying, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, or we can end this thing right here and now.”
The young redhead let out a defeated sigh, then said, “It’s Gary. He’s the manager, and I guess you could say he’s been abusing his power.”
“How’s that?”
“He has full control of our schedules, so if we want a good shift or any kind of change to the schedule, we have to provide him with certain services.” She sat there in her cropped tank top and barely there skirt, and a look of innocence crossed her face as she admitted, “For some girls, it isn’t a big deal, but for me, it’s a really big deal. ”
“Sounds like Gary is a fucking tool.”
“Gary is a huge fucking tool, but he’s my boss. I’m kind of stuck with him unless I can find another job.”
“Well, you and your friends won’t have to worry about that shit anymore.” I placed her application with the other possible candidates, then said, “You can tell the others to be expecting a call back.”
“Really?”
“No guarantees, but I’ll do my best to find a place for you all. If not here, somewhere that will do you right.”
“Thank you so much, Mister—”
“The name’s Menace, and no need to thank me. At least, not yet.”
“Well, I appreciate you trying to help.” She grabbed her purse, then skirted over to the door. “I’ll look forward to your call.”
I was feeling pretty good about things when she walked out of my office.
Between Mazie and her other friends from the Pink Pony, we had the shifts covered and were in good shape.
I was about to tell Marlowe we could call it a day when a woman appeared in my doorway, and not just any woman.
This one wasn’t anything like the girls who’d come in before her.
She had the deepest blue eyes, soft porcelain skin, and hair so white it made her look like an angel.
She was wearing jeans, a white lace top, and sandals—not the kind of thing you’d expect a woman to wear to a stripper interview. Red flag.
“Excuse me. The girl out front told me to come see you about the position you have for the…um...the str-dancer position.”
She couldn’t even say the word stripper. Red flag.
“By dancer, I hope you mean stripper because this is a strip club.”
A bright red blush crept over her face the second I said stripper. Red flag.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She tried to recover by adding, “That’s what I meant.”
“Mm-hmm. You got a name?”
“Yes.” She smiled bashfully and tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear as she answered, “Aubrey. Aubrey…um...Cash.”
There was no way in hell that was her real name. Yet another Red flag.