Nikki immediately looks to me, holding her hand out, and I don’t hesitate a moment. I pick up her G-string, tossing it back up at her, and she efficiently puts it back on.
She bends over to pick up her bustier but before she can straighten her body, Simon stands from his chair and says, “You’re hired. We can discuss the details of your employment in my office.”
Oh, fuck no, that is not going to happen, because he’s going to try to fuck her, no doubt about it. And I don’t know much about Andrea, but what I just saw on that stage, she intends to get this job… and I’m not so sure she won’t lay down her body to ensure she gets her foot in the door.
Standing quickly from the table, I remind Simon, “Don’t forget you have that meeting with Darren in five minutes.”
Thank fuck, he has that meeting with Darren.
“Lance can handle that,” Simon says, his eyes raking over Andrea’s body while she puts on her bustier with practice movements. My pulse skyrockets and my mind starts going into overdrive figuring out how I can swoop in and save her.
“Actually, I can’t,” Lance says. “I have to go meet with our supplier over at the bakery.”
Relief courses through me. “Supplier at bakery” translates into the pipeline of chemicals that is trucked in to Simon’s meth operation, something that he has never asked me to handle before.
“Fuck,” Simon says and glances at his watch. He shoots a last, longing look at Andrea and turns away. “Fine. Raze… get the new girls set up.”
“What about the last girl’s audition?” I ask as I reach down to shift my still-hard cock before standing from my chair.
“Hire her if you want,” he says as he looks at me with a smirk. Leaning in closer, he whispers, “But these last two girls are perfect for our ‘export’ business.”
Satisfaction and relief courses through me that Andrea landed the job, not as a dancer, but as a potential sex slave, and we have crossed a major hurdle. On top of that, I’ve averted the opportunity for Simon to get his hands on Andrea. He may come after her again, and I’ll worry about that later, but right now… our foot is in the door and we are one more step closer to taking Simon Keyes down.
Turning to look back over my shoulder, I see Andrea standing there with a hopeful look in her eyes as she puts the bustier back on. “Okay, Nikki. Go get dressed, then I’ll get you and Amy to sign the final employment paperwork, and we’ll get you both on the schedule.”
“Thank you,” she says to me and then turns to scurry to the back of the stage and through the black curtain that houses the dressing area. I watch until she disappears, my gut rolling over the thought of what she was going to have to do with her body, night after night. I respect the shit out of what she just did to get her foot in the door, but an unpleasant feeling of anger and fear, along with a twist of something vaguely close to jealousy, permeates me through and through.
Chapter 6
Andrea
I unlock the deadbolt and then the door lock of my apartment, needing to give an extra hard twist on the rusty knob before pushing my door open. It’s almost 2:30 AM and I’m exhausted. Closing the door behind me, I re-lock it and slide the safety chain in place. I drop my purse on the floor and kick off my hooker heels. They can stay there until morning for all I care, I’m so tired.
Three days of dancing, and when not dancing, serving cocktails to drunk patrons. While I have to strip entirely naked when on stage, I’m left with a small measure of dignity by being allowed to keep my bottoms on while playing waitress. Still doesn’t stop horny men from pawing at me after I set their liquor down in front of them, but at least I don’t have to worry about their eyes dropping to crotch level all the time. It’s barely manageable with having to suffer their lewd gazes at my breasts.
I fell back into the dancing easy enough. Just like riding a bike, and just like when I was in college, I was able to let my mind drift away with every article of clothing I shed. When I’m up on that stage, I may have hundreds of men leering at me and imagining the dirtiest things in their mind, but I’m never mentally present when I dance. I always have had a good knack for letting my mind float away while under the spotlight, only coming back to cognizance of my surroundings when the music died away and I could get off stage.
Nothing of interest has happened since I started at The Platinum Club, at least not that I know of. Raze has kept his distance from me, giving me no more interaction than he does the other dancers. Each night, he makes an accounting of my tips, along with the other girls, and parcels out our shares. We are only paid in what we make in tips for dancing, less a thirty-percent commission for Simon. After every dance, of which I do three each night, I pull out all the cash stuffed in my garters and put it in an envelope that I hand to Raze. He doesn’t say a word, just sometimes gives me a nod of his head. Each night before I leave, he hands me a fat envelope with my take and murmurs, “Good job.”