Page 14 of Lucky Mother Pucker

I almost laugh. “Absolutely not. I’ve never even been arrested.”

“I figured. You’re too sweet and pretty to be a serial killer.”

I let out another nervous laugh.

After another few seconds of her looking at my application, she sets it down. “Well, Ms. Lucy Bailey. You’re hired. You can start tonight.”

I can’t help the grin that splits my face. “Thank you so, so much.” I shake her hand.

“Tonya,” she says.

“Thank you, Tonya. I’m excited to work here.”

She makes a sound that’s a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Right. Me too.” She coughs and taps her cigarette ashes into a nearby empty beer glass. “So, anyway, we open at five every evening. Close at three. Sometimes four on Fridays and Saturdays, depending on how busy it gets. Your base hourly pay is fifteen bucks an hour. You keep all tips. You don’t have to tip out the DJ or the bartender. They do just fine on their own.”

“Okay, great. Is there a uniform for me to wear?”

She shakes her head. “Wear whatever you want. The skimpier the better.”

My eyes go wide. “Oh…”

She cackles. “This is a strip club, hon. You think that because you’re not dancing on stage, you shouldn’t dress a little sexy?”

“Right. That makes sense.”

She takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows out a puff of smoke. “Listen, I’m not saying you have to walk around in pasties and a thong. We’re not gonna make you wear anything you don’t wanna wear. But if you wanna make serious money, fast, show some skin.”

Tonya’s right. Sex sells. And I need money, fast.

I nod once. “Of course. I’ll see you tonight at five.”

* * *

I pull down the tiny black mini skirt I’m wearing with one hand while trying to balance my tray of vodka shots in the other.

Some slow jam I don’t recognize blasts through the speaker system. I head to the table I’m serving, which is a couple in their late twenties.

I set down their vodka shots and plaster a smile on my face. “Here you go, babes.”

I’ve only been at this job for a few hours, but I noticed that when I call customers a cute nickname, they tip better.

The guy’s gaze falls to my boobs, which are spilling out of the low-cut sparkly crop top I’m wearing.

I try to ignore the cringe that moves through my body at how openly this guy is gawking at me.

This is what you signed up for. You need to get used to people leering at you. It’s worth it if they tip you well.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. He hands me a twenty, and I give him a sweet smile.

“Anything else I can get you two?” I look between them.

The guy’s girlfriend licks her lips as she stares at my chest. She leans over and slinks her arm over his chest. They turn and look at each other, exchanging a knowing smile, before she looks back at me. “You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I try to keep my tone and my smile sweet, even though the muscles in my shoulders tense at the way this couple is looking me up and down. Like I’m a porterhouse steak.

She licks her lips. “My boyfriend and I love redheads. And we both love to play. And share. You interested?”

I almost ask, “Share what?” before my brain puts it together. They want to share me. In bed.