“Caveman & Bone?” Dakota asks looking up from her text message, a scowl on her face. “That’s a strip joint, isn’t it?” We are both standing on the street two doors away from the club when they sent us our messages.

I scratch my jaw. “Yeah, I think so,” I say cautiously.

“They want me to do a strip tease, don’t they?” she gasps, horrified.

“Well, we don’t know that,” I suggest diplomatically, even though it’s pretty certain that she is right. That’s exactly what they want her to do.

“It’s obvious… it is. Why else would they want us to go there?” she wails.

I try to keep my face neutral even though, to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing her strip. From the moment I saw her run for the elevator, I became sexually curious about her. “Let’s go in and see.”

“Trent, I’m not getting naked in front of a bunch of men. I’m just not doing it.” Her voice is high and squeaky.

“Okay look, my friend Eric goes to Caveman & Bone all the time. It’s more of a topless show. You can keep your panties on.”

“What? I have to be topless?” she shoots back.

I swallow down a sigh. “A few moments ago, you thought you would have to be naked. Isn’t being topless better than stripping all the way down?”

“Oh my God, I don’t believe this! I’ll have to be topless in public?”

“I stripped down to my underpants yesterday,” I remind her.

“You don’t have breasts, you unfeeling brute,” she rages.

“Well, at least you have great breasts.”

Her eyes look like they are about to pop out of her head. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Trent.”

Holy Hell! “That’s too hard? Here’s another alternative, Tinkerbell. Why not just go back to Neverland and let someone else win the million?”

That stops her in her tracks. She licks her lips and squares her shoulders. “All right, let’s go in and see what they want us to do.”

“Good thinking.”

We don’t exchange another word while we walk into the establishment. Her body is stiff and there is at least two feet between us.

As if they are expecting us, the two bouncers at the entrance lift the red ropes as soon as we appear, and let us through.

There are two women sitting at the reception area who also seem to be expecting us. One of them gets up and asks if she can take our coats.

I hand mine over, but Dakota holds hers even tighter.

We follow the woman into the club.

The plum carpets are plush and the décor is rich and lavish. There’s a stage lit up with blue lights and a long catwalk attached to it. I sneak a glance at Dakota. Her hands are thrust deep into her short coat and she is staring at the stage with terrified eyes. At the other end of the room, there is a long bar and lots of scantily clad girls are sitting around waiting for the unwary.

The woman leads us to a table by the stage.

As soon as we sit, a waitress dressed in a playboy bunny suit minus the tail and ears brings us a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle in it. “With compliments of the house,” she says setting our glasses down on the table.

Dakota stares at the bottle as if it is a rattlesnake.

The stage lights come on and the DJ asks everyone to welcome, the next performer. A Miss Susie Wong. Men in the darkened corners of the club clap. An Oriental girl in a long green Chinese dress comes on and starts gyrating to the music.

Dakota stares at the performer with mesmerized eyes.

With a practiced ease, the girl slips out of her dress. She has fake boobs, but a nice body. Tight, young, and well proportioned, but for some reason, she leaves me completely cold.I don’t like the idea of paying to watch a girl undress. I have better ways to spend my money.

With admirable athletic prowess, she vaults herself up a lapdancer’s pole and swings herself around it before losing her bra. At that point, men start throwing money at her. She gets down on her hands and knees then starts crawling to the end of the catwalk. Men come up to the edge of it to slip folded notes into her stockings and G-string. Finally, she gets to the end of the catwalk where she lies on her back and opens her legs, making a large V.

Next to me, Dakota gasps.

I watch the men shower the girl with notes. This is obviously the highlight of the show.

Dakota turns to me, her face white and desperate. “I can’t do it. That’s humiliating.”

“You don’t know what they want you to do. It might be something completely different. Why don’t you have a drink and loosen up a little, huh?”

She grabs her glass and drains it.

I refill her glass silently. If she has to dance, then getting her a little drunk is a good idea.

She finishes the glass just as soon as I refill it. I pour her another, and she empties that too.

My eyes widen. Getting her falling down drunk is not going to help anybody. “Easy now,” I caution.

“Easy for you to say,” she snaps bitterly.

At that moment, my phone buzzes. We look at each other in surprise. Only my phone! I look at my screen.