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“No, the seven p.m. one,” said Mickey in a delighted voice. “Just seven to ten.”
“Really?” I asked, brows raised. “But there’s hardly anyone there then. You can’t be one girl short?”
Mickey was ready.
“No, we like the Flamingo fully staffed at all times. You know that, Susie. Plus, customers start drifting in at nine or so, so it’s important to be prepared. Bring your best outfits, just like usual,” he trilled. “See you then!”
And with that, he was gone. I hung up, still a little puzzled. Honestly, the Flaming has probably fifteen customers between the hours of seven to ten, but then again, Mickey was right. It was better to be prepared once the rush started late at night.
So with a sigh, I got into the shower, sudsing myself off before stepping out and staring at myself in the mirror. Wow. Was that really me, with the flushed cheeks and curly brown hair? It was, for sure. But my double life as a librarian cum stripper lent a sparkle to my eyes and a special curve to my smile because I had secrets no one would ever know.
Shimmying into a red bra and panty set, I pulled out my highest heels and then wrapped my curvy form into a trench coat. It was a standard dancing outfit. With a couple accessories, the red bikini could be turned into a 20’s flapper, Medusa, or even the Queen of England, depending on what mood I was in.
So with another secret smile, I grabbed my purse and headed out to the club. And after letting myself into the backdoor, I looked for Mickey.
“He around?” were my words.
Camilla, an older stripper who’s had lots of plastic surgery done, jerked her thumb to the back while smacking her gum.
“Better be quick, girlie,” she said. “You’re on in fifteen.”
I knocked on the wooden door in the back.
“Mickey?” I called. “It’s me, Susie.”
Immediately, his voice sounded.
“Come!”
Hmm, weird. The tone was a little high and nervous-sounding. I wonder why? But when I pushed the door open, the reason became immediately clear. Because a guy as big as a Mack truck stood next to Mickey’s desk, imposing and huge. He had a flat top and absolutely no expression on his face.
“Heya!” greeted Mickey, scrambling up from his chair a little too quckly. “How are you, Suse? I mean, Pearl.”
What the hell? What was going on? But I let myself into the office.
“You know I don’t do lap dances,” came my warning voice, casting a suspicious glance at the stranger. “I don’t do any type of extras, for that matter.”
Mickey simpered a bit while showing me to a chair.
“Of course not!” he sang. “That’s not why you’re here at all. Let me introduce you to Harry.”
Hmm, no last name? But that’s common in my line of work, so I nodded although my eyes were still suspicious.
“Hello,” came my frigid greeting. “How are you?”
He nodded his head.
“Ma’am.”
That’s all? He wasn’t going to say more? But Mickey jumped into this awkward situation.
“So Harry’s here because he has a proposition for you.”
I stood up to go, shoving my chair back.
“No,” was my firm word, shooting daggers at my manager. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t do this, I don’t even know why you’re asking.”
“Wait, hold on, hold on!” begged Mickey, both hands up in a placating gesture. “Just hear me out. Harry here has a proposition, but it’s not for him. It’s for his boss.”
