Page 11 of Wolf
“True, but they’re killing it for happy hour. He’s thinking of opening at four from Monday to Friday to give them a run for theirmoney.”
“Jeez,” I answer, scrunching up my nose as I strip off my hoodie and t-shirt, and unclasp my bra. All I can wear under this body-hugging dress is some push-up boob tape for my big tits, and thongs. “I don’t want to have to fight my way through rush hour traffic to make it here thatearly.”
“Nobodydoes.”
I roll down my yoga pants and step into the dress, muscling it up my body. “Well, thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep my head down around the boss. You knowme.”
“Hey girls.” Cece, one of the other strippers enters the locker room in a fuchsia glow-in-the-dark thong bikini and sky-high see-through pumps. Cece is our resident down-home, girl next door stripper, as sweet and naturally innocent on the inside as she is gorgeous on theoutside.
“Hi, Cece,” Bex and I answer at the sametime.
“Oh my God, Jeff’s on the hunt tonight,” Cece whines, pulling a black feather boa from herlocker.
“Are you sure he doesn’t need to get laid or something?” I ask. “He’s usually soeasygoing.”
“What, are you volunteering?” Bexjokes.
“Me? Um, no way!” I answer a little too forcefully, tying on my little black four-pocket apron before closing mylocker.
“We should set up a get-Jeff-laid jar at the bar or something,” Bex suggests, flashing her bright white smile. “He’ll have a kick out ofthat.”
“He just might. Have a good shift, ladies,” I say and head to the door leading to the bar area so I can start myshift.
Jeff is one of the reasons most of the girls work here and not in one of the more seedy, raunchy dives around the city. He’s a nice guy with a laid-back attitude. He runs this club with class, and he treats the women who work here like real people, not things to be gawked at, groped or objectified. We know his style probably makes it harder for the club to turn the kind of profits that other places do, but most of us prefer moderate tips than being forced to deal with the low-brow pricks who frequent the otherclubs.
“Hi, Rose. Good, you’re here.” I hear the deep timber of Jeff’s voice from behind me and smile, turning to face him. They weren’t kidding that he’s all charm tonight. When I first started working here straight out of high school, I had a little crush on Jeff. How can any straight woman not be a bit drawn to a tall, successful, mild-mannered, well-dressed man with a perfectly chiseled face and a body to match? I think he’s always known I was into him. Thankfully, I never acted on my attraction to him, and neither did he. A man like him is smart enough to know not to shit where he eats. Mixing business with pleasure is rarely a good idea in most workplaces. And at a strip club, it can get reallyugly.
“Hi, Jeff,” I answer. “Why, what’sup?”
He reaches across the counter and slides over a tray of drinks that Lou, the bartender just prepared. “Can you do me a favor and take this over to table eight? We’re short staffedtonight.”
“Oh, that’s all?” I ask, letting out a girlishgiggle.
“Why? What have youheard?”
“Do you even need to ask?” I joke. He of all people knows that gossip spreads faster than a wildfire aroundhere.
He gives me a crooked smile. “I take it you heard about earlier starts times for shifts during theweek.”
“I did. Not liking the prospect of sitting in gridlock, but whatever you need, I’m there.” I don’t mean that in any suggestive way. Jeff is probably the most understanding boss on the planet. He’s been flexible and accommodating for all of us at one point or another. The least I can do is be there for him if he’s in acrunch.
“I might have to take you up on that offer. So, tableeight?”
I grab the full tray and lift it to one shoulder. “Sure, no problem. Who’s missingtonight?”
“Allison,” he says. “Her little boy’s got theflu.”
“Sorry tohear.”
“Think you can handle quadrant two and three?” heasks.
“I think so.” I waggle my eyebrows playfully. “And my bank account can handle the tipstoo.”
“Thanks,Rose.”
“I don’t mind, really.” I can tell he’s a bit more amped up about something tonight, so I give him a brief wave and head over to deliver thedrinks.
That eerie tingle from earlier this evening creeps up my back again as I’m on my way to serve another table. Someone’s watching me, and I’m not talking about my boobs or my hemline. This can’t be a coincidence. I look around the club nonchalantly, but the place is dimly lit as usual. The only spot that has bright lighting is the stage at the center, and the three bars at the back. If someone here is really tailing me, it’ll take me hours to be sure who it is. Hours that I don’t have, as I’m on the jobnow.
