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But cooking and cleaning? I have a private chef and a maid to do that.
I place the kindle down on my desk and stand up, stretching. I flip back so that I can’t see the cover—it’s getting me wet just by looking at it—and I turn on my heels so that I’m facing the curved wall-to-ceiling windows behind me. They’re a one-way mirror actually, and since my office is right above the main stage, I can take a good look at what’s happening in my club whenever I want without ever leaving my little cave here.
Not that I don’t leave my office; I like to mingle with the customers (specially the hot ones), and sometimes I even show up on stage. I don’t do it often now, but sometimes the customers get so loud, chanting my name, that I have no other choice but go up there and shake my ass for them.
I kinda like it. Right, if you’re going to judge and call me a slut, then you know what? I have two words for you.
Fuck off.
Yeah, I’m a slut. And a damn good one too.
I look down at the stage where two dancers are dancing over what seems like a carpet of one dollar bills, and the place is packed as usual. Which fits me just right, since I’m in the mood for some fun tonight. I mean, it’s Eddie Cleveland and his fucking woodsman’s fault; that guy has gotten me so wet right now that I need to fuck something. Narrowing my eyes into slits, I try to find someone who looks like fun. But it doesn’t seem that I’m in luck tonight. The main floor is packed, sure, but these are all guys in their forties and fifties, most of them probably drunk out of their minds. Right, keep spending, fellas. All those women are laughing at you ugly assholes.
Someone sitting close to the stage grabs my interest. He’s… an acquaintance, if I can call him that.
What?
Okay fine.
Fuck it. Let me just be straight with you from now on. That guy down there I’m looking at is a grade A asshole. A bastard.
His name is Lester Vicks, and he’s the Commissioner of Police for the NYPD.
Yeah. The top man in law enforcement. He's quite a powerful guy, and he’s a regular. And by regular I mean that he comes here almost every night, drops hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars.
Now, don’t take this the wrong way and start thinking that I’m full of myself, but I know the real reason he comes here all the time: it’s because of me.
The first time he came was on opening day, and I was up on the stage twirling on a pole when he waltzed in the floor, that look of self-importance on his face. But I remember the way his eyes lit up when he saw me dancing, sliding down the pole as the crowd threw dollar bills at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man become that stunned ever since.
“Destiny, it’s an honor to meet you in person,” he told me that night when I stepped down off the stage. I was polite enough to have a one-on-one conversation with him since he stuffed more than a dozen one hundred
dollar bills in my thong and between my tits. I’m nice like that, ya know?
By the look he had on his face, I knew immediately that he recognized me from…
Right. We’re being honest.
Well, he recognized me from his laptop screen, most likely.
You see, when I chose the name Dirty Destiny for my club, it wasn’t just because it was a fitting name for a strip club. Dirty Destiny was my, uhm, nom de plume when I did porn. Yeah, that’s right, I was a porn star, and a good one at that.
Don’t you remember the “Daddy Don’t Tease Me” series? That was me.
What about “Shaving Private Ryan?” Yep.
You ever watch those taboo movies? “Banging My Hottie Stepmom?”
Yeah, I did a lot of porn.
I mean, where do you think I got the money to open up a club of my own? In Manhattan? Right in the heart of Midtown on Broadway and 52 Street.
I loved doing porn. No need to feel bad.
I mean, being a porn star wasn’t exactly a childhood dream of mine. But once I graduated UCLA and took my chances as a model, I was hooked. I went from regular modelling to topless photoshoots (they paid so much better), and I loved living the high life. I travelled all around the world making lots of money, and once Arsen Hawke entered my life I knew what I had to do. That’s right, that Arsen Hawke, the king of porn himself.
He offered me the chance to go and work for him, and I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t just about the money (even though he almost drowned me in it), but more about finding out who I was.
And I like sex.
