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Becky
The bright rows of lights that surround the mirror in my dressing room seem to glow extra brightly tonight, and I squint as I put on lipstick. It’s bright red, which is a color I would normally try to stay away from, but everything around here is standard issue, right down to the colorful sequin bras and skimpy skirts, which I just finished putting on a couple seconds ago.
Do it for the job,I think.Just do it for the job.
That thought has been creeping into my mind a lot lately, but it’s getting harder to convince myself. The “job” that I’m referring to isn’t stripping, despite what Max Kleeberger wants to believe.
Fuck him,I think.He can believe what he wants. As long as he still believes that I’m actually here to strip, I could give two shits what he thinks of me. I know what I’m really here for.
Still, I never thought that being the youngest FBI agent in the field would bring me to the fucking Wiggly Jiggly. Undercover was undercover, but still, this was embarrassing. I was glad that none of my friends from the academy could see me now, dressed up like every other blonde bimbo that was hoping to make a quick buck by selling themselves.
But something shady is going on here . That much I’m sure of. The drug kingpin I’ve been tracking is connected to this place somehow, even if I’m not one hundred percent sure how.
My guess?
Money laundering. And if that’s the case, Kleeberger is surely involved, which is why I need to keep my guard up. In order to get to the bottom of this, I need to be as friendly as I can to Max.
“Becky, darling, how are we tonight?”
Speak of the devil. Leave it to Max to barge in without knocking.
I turn to face him, with my now lipstick slathered lips puckered. He looks the same as he always does, small and mousy, with features that closely resemble a rat. He wears a tacky looking black suit, one that seems to scream“I came from the bargain bin, but I have just enough class to make anyone that wears me look high profile for a minute”.
Max sees me gazing him up and down and winks. I want to throw up in my mouth; does this guy actually think he has game? Money, no matter how much he has, can’t buy Max Kleeberger an ounce of good looks, but I don’t want to say so. It’s like I said:
Undercover is undercover, whether I like it or not.
“Maxie,” I say, trying my best to sound enthusiastic and playful. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I walk slowly and seductively towards him, tracing my nails playful on his shoulder. I can smell his cologne, and have to try my best not to gag.
“Well, Ms. Brash, I came for you tonight because I have a...” he pauses for a minute and looks directly into my eyes. “…special assignment, I suppose you could say.”
Without missing a beat, I get down close to Max’s ear and whisper:
“What can I do for you, Boss man?”
I love fucking with Max like this. He’s practically drooling, and I silently remark that his mouth probably wouldn’t be hanging open if he knew why I was actually here.
“There are two very important men out there, Ms. Brash. Men that hold the future of this club in the palms of their hands. They’ve both given me very generous offers for the club and the land it’s built on, and as it stands, I’d be perfectly happy to work with either of them. Provided I get my seat on the board of directors, that is.”
What the fuck is going on here?I think, as I continue to trace my nails along the shoulder of Max’s suit.I knew there was more going on here than meets the eye, and I guess I’m not wrong.
Instead of voicing my concerns, I do my best to play along.
“And what do I have to do with any of this, Maxie? You know business isn’t my strong suit. That’s your job.”
Max brushes my hand off his shoulder and walks to the door of my dressing room. Pulling it open, he gestures outside.
“I need you to fucking dance for them, Becky. And no halfway shit, really lay it on thick. Get them to fight over you, and when they do-because believe me, they will-offer them a little more of the ‘good stuff’ for whoever signs the deal. Can you do that?”
Walking towards the door, I smile at Max and blow him a kiss before I head to the stage.
“Of course, Maxie. You can count on me.”
Without waiting for his reply, I climb the stairs to the stage and gaze out at the crowd. It’s the typical bunch, tired looking bastards who are undoubtedly looking to get lucky. The music blares mechanically, and I close my eyes and start dancing.
Shake your ass, shake your tits, then shake your ass again. Nothing special, just get what you need.
