Page 3 of The Darkest Nights


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“Yeah, but he won't say anything. Not to one of his best earners.” He tosses me his signature crooked smile as he zips my bag shut and hands it to me.

I put being one of the top earners down to having a British accent. The men go wild for it and I’m all up for making a song and dance out of it. Stripping is a lucrative business when you do it right. I have a handful of regulars that spend some serious money for my time. They don't only pay for my dances or to chat with me, they get me gifts too. I only have to mention that I’ve got my eye on something and usually they’ll turn up with it the next time they come In.

Brian - Wall Street.- Bought me a Birkin last month, a Birkin. These men have more money than they know what to do with. CEOs, bankers, crypto traders, basketball players. They all come through Diamond’s doors. And I welcome them with open arms. I don’t just take their money, I bleed them dry.

People may look down on me for what I do but the way I see it, why shouldn't I monopolise the tools I was given? My curves came in when I was 11 and I’ve been sexualised for it since. Teachers, family friends, random men on the street. I see it in their eyes and the inappropriate way they would treat me. By the time I was 17, I was well aware of the tools at my disposal. If men were going to sexualise me anyway, I might as well make some money from them.

I always do my hair and makeup at home because the lighting is much better in my bedroom and I have to do my makeup on the floor. God knows why as I have a vanity, a nice one too but it doesn't feel right unless I'm cross-legged in front of a mirror with my music playing.

I start pulling my clothes off and shoving them in a free locker as quickly as I can, only slowing down when I take my new lingerie set out of my bag. It was one of my more expensive choices. The Gucci GG-embroidered lingerie set. I know what you're thinking. Why would you spend that much on a work outfit? My logic is, the more you spend the more you earn and it's always worked for me.

I’m strapping my Pleaser platforms on when Alexis comes into the dressing room. She’s one of my friends at the club. Been here for years, actually got me the job after I met her at a party a while ago.

She lets out a groan. “Thank god you’re here. The customers are very touchy-feely tonight. I’ve had two kicked out already.” She plops herself down on the sofa next to me, leaning her head of black short hair on my shoulder.

We work at one of the best clubs in New York. If not the best club in New York but it doesn't matter how classy the establishment is, men are dogs. They’re all entitled. They think they have a free pass to your body because they've paid you for your time. Sorry to burst your bubble mate, but we do this for a living and no we aren't interested in going home with you. I’ll dance for you, take my clothes off and talk to you like you are my favourite person in the world, until your money runs out. Then you can leave me the fuck alone.

I rest my head against hers. “Don’t tell me that. I’ve just fixed my nail from that bachelor party last week. Those guys were awful.” To make myself perfectly clear, I really do hate men. Hate them in the visceral sense. I decided when I left London that I was done with the male species unless it’s to take their money. And it's been easier than I imagined. As it stands, men make me sick.

“They were, but you slapping the groom was the highlight of my night” She snorts as she shoves herself off the sofa towards the bathroom. “Oh, I forgot. Franco’s looking for you.” She shoots me a knowing wink and I flip her off, hearing her laugh recede down the hallway.

Franco is the owner. He’s okay. I had worse back when I first got here. I had to work my way up. It's a rite of passage starting from the shitty clubs. You have to earn your spot in a club as prestigious as this.

One of the reasons I chose Diamond’s is that they’re really strict on no extra business with the customers. The same can't be said for management but I kept my nose out of it. They have a zero-tolerance policy on drugs, unlike the majority of clubs in the city. Which works well for me because I don’t touch that shit. I got caught up in that back in London when I first started out and it's really not worth it.

His door is already open as I walk up. The smell of cigar smoke weighing heavy in the room as usual. He sits behind his desk with his dark Gray hair and specs on, the security cams for the outside of the club pulled up on his screen. I perch myself on the seat in front of his desk. “You wanted to see me?”

“Ah. You’ve graced us with your presence finally. You missed a stage set.” His tone is teasing but you can't trust it, he’s a passive-aggressive git. His dark eyes linger on my chest but it's nothing I’m not used to. I spend more time in lingerie than I do actual clothes.

I flick my eyes over him. “You're wasting more time having me up here instead of downstairs, what do you need?”

“I’ve got some, associates coming in tonight and I need everything running like a well-oiled machine downstairs. I can’t afford any fuck ups.” I frown at him. I don’t like the way he said associates. He lingered as if unsure of what to call them. I shove the thought away because I haven’t got this far sticking my nose into places it doesn’t belong. “Just keep the girls in check. Especially Sian. She got absolutely shit-faced the other night. She’s on her last warning. I’m not having anyone sloppy and making me look bad.”

I raise my eyebrows, seeing an opportunity flash in bright lights at his words. “That sounds awfully like something a manager would do and managers get a set wage.” I don't do anything for free, everything has a price.

He waves his hand, his eyes continuing to flick to the screen almost nervously. “Whatever. I’ll give you a cash incentive if you just keep on top of them tonight but seriously don’t fuck about. It's important that tonight goes well, without any incident. That includes assaulting the customers.” He looks at me pointedly.

I decide to indulge him and I hold both hands up innocently. “Hey, as long as the customers are respectful and keep their hands to themselves, I'll do the same. No need to worry about me.”

One of the many downsides to the job is the risk of sexual assault. The customers get grabby more often than not, eventually you just become desensitised to it. In the beginning, it’s a shock to the system but after a while, it's just part of the role. I've been in the industry for the last six years, I’m practically a fucking veteran. My only advice is you have to make sure you take time for yourself. Burnout is a real thing. I know way too many girls who came into this industry with dreams of earning serious money only to quit a few weeks later because they couldn’t take the strain it puts on your mental health. It helps to have a thick skin in this industry, but even then it still gets on top of you.

He gives me a stern look. “Let security handle it. It's their job.” I do most of the time but occasionally it warrants some bite back. I’m more than happy to reprimand a man who thinks it’s his God-given right to put hands on me.

“Of course, Franco. Whatever you say” I give him my brightest grin and leave to go downstairs.

The club prides itself on being exclusive. Not huge but elite. Not just anybody is allowed through those doors. Only big spenders and celebrities. The elite. God, I hate calling them that.

It has a very old school almost speakeasy vibe to it. Red velvet walls with expensive antique-looking armchairs and sofas. Three smaller stages in each corner. The main stage sat in the middle of the room with two poles and a row of big green leather armchairs up front. Diamond’s is quality not quantity.

It’s reasonably busy so I get to work, quickly trying to pick the big spenders out of the rabble. I know it won't be long before I get called to a stage set. Personally, I prefer stage sets. I like to put on a show and commanding a room full of men's attention gives you a serious power trip. I soon spot an older gentleman sitting by the bar. Crisp grey suit, Rolex Daytona sitting comfortably on his wrist. Practical but expensive. Time to make some money.

2

Enzo

Present-day

Manhattan, New York City

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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