AllFreeNovel
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I shake my head.
“Okay.” He leans back and sets his cigar down, letting the smoke unfurl in slow spirals. “Show me your tits.”
“What?”
“Show. Me. Your .Tits.”
I’m blushing right red. I can feel it. “Now?”
“Yes. Now.” He looks at my chest. “You think I’m going to let you hit the stage or dance for my clients without knowing if you have something worth seeing? Take your shirt off.”
I swallow and move my hands to unbutton my blouse. Once I reach the last button, I slip my hand around my back and unsnap my bra, letting my C-cup breasts fall free. I shift in my seat and stare into his eyes, realizing that he’s looking at me as if he’s incapable of turning away.
“Get up and stand by the bookshelf,” he commands.
I do as he says and keep my eyes locked on his.
“Your pants...” His voice is hoarse. “Take those off.”
I unbutton my jeans, aware that he’s watching every single movement I make. I take my time unzipping my fly, and push the pants to the floor. I’m now wearing nothing but a heart necklace and a lacy black thong.
He stands up and walks over to me, circling me slowly. He sighs and gently touches me, trailing his fingers against the tattoo that’s etched onto my left shoulder.
“You’ll have to cover that up,” he whispers, and then he rubs the other tattoo that’s on the back of my neck. “This one too...”
I nod and he runs his fingers through my hair from behind.
“I don’t hire nervous girls, Emerald...”
I stiffen. I never told him my name. I’m about to turn around and ask him how he knows it, but he wraps an arm around my waist and holds me still.
“We ran your plates the second you pulled into the parking lot.” One of his hands is still in my hair. “Nothing that happens here is mentioned outside of these walls. Understand?”
I nod, but he spins me around.
“I need you to say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Put your clothes back on.” He clears his throat and watches me again.
When I’ve re-buttoned my shirt, he tilts my chin up and looks into my eyes. “Do you know how to dance?”
“Yes.” I lie.
“In six inch stilettos?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You get two weeks to shadow your future coworkers and train and then you’ll audition. After that you’re on your own. The first three rules are simple. Rule number one: Don’t fuck the customers. Rule number two: Don’t fuck the customers. Rule number three—”
“Don’t fuck the customers?”
“No. If you choose to break rules one and two, I’m not responsible. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“What would you like me to call you?”
“What do you mean call me?”
He smiles. “No one here goes by a real name. While the majority of my clients are businessmen and high level executives who fly in from bigger cities, we do get a few strangers here or there and we don’t need anyone knowing who you really are. If I offer you this job, and you choose to take it, the day you bring your license and social security card will be the only time your real name is welcome here.”
“Does that mean I’m temporarily hired?”
“No,” he says flatly. “It means it’s time for me to take you on a tour.”
He slips an arm around my waist and leads me down another hallway and through a small metal door. Behind that door are two short flights of steps, and the sound of thumping music which is becoming louder and louder.
As we approach a velvet curtain, I can smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke. And sweat.
“Stay close,” he orders as he pulls it open and pushes me into a dark room. “I want you to leave the very second any of this feels uncomfortable.”
My eyes take several seconds to adjust to the darkness and the haze, but when they do, I have to literally pinch myself to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
There are five huge poles in the room—each one surrounded by its own circular platform stage. The one in the middle stands a little higher than the rest and is clearly the main draw, but all of them feature the same pretty prize: a half-naked woman clad in only lace panties, swirling around in confidence.
“We’ll come back to the standard things...” Michael shows me into a dimly lit hallway. There are doors on each side, and their windows are all tinted.
Despite the privacy, I’m pretty sure there are moans coming from the other side of those doors. And not the fake kind.
“We fulfill fantasies here,” he says calmly. “A man divorces his wife and wants to relive his glory days? Fine. Someone gets off by being beaten and tied up? Done. And if some of my girls choose to break rules one and two to earn triple of what they would make on stage?”
