3
Five years later
Ashley
The moving trucks come to a stop in the wide street, and my eyes flicker over to the back seat. “This is it, baby.” I smile.
Owen looks out of the window towards our new house and I feel my nerves flutter deep in my stomach.
It looks okay.
The house is two-story with faded yellow weather-boards. It has a large veranda that wraps around the house. Climbing roses scale the posts, and a cobblestone path leads up to the front steps. It looks welcoming. I glance back and forth up the wide street and the neat manicured lawns of the well-kept surrounding houses.
“It looks so nice, doesn’t it?” I smile at him through the rear view mirror.
He nods as he holds his blanket tightly between his little fingers. His angel face is staring out the window in awe.
This will be the new start we need.
The last few years have been hard—harder than hard for me. My big dreams are just a distant memory now.
I met a guy, got engaged, and was happy for a while, until our relationship broke down. All while putting myself through med school.
I had big dreams of being a hotshot surgeon until I fell pregnant. It wasn’t planned and I don’t know how it happened, but it did and I didn’t find out until I was showing. I’d had the contraceptive injection and it should have worked for another twelve months. I never even considered that I would be in the two percent of the female population who it didn’t work on. I didn’t get a period, so I didn’t miss it when it didn’t come.
It was shocking, it was devastating, but now, looking at the little boy with the perfect face in the back seat who has taught me how to adult, I count it as the biggest blessing of my life.
He was always meant to come—always meant to be my son.
The timing was just off, that’s all.
I’m over it now, over the whole stigma of being a single mom.
The disappointment of shattered dreams.
I’m over the urge to go out and have fun with people my own age. I do grieve the loss of opportunity to fall in love for me. I wanted to marry for passion and true love.
I’m resigned that this is my life and that I made this bed I’m lying in. If I can just scrape through my final year of residency experience at the hospital, Owen and I can move to a quaint little country town where I can open a medical practice, work as a general practitioner, and make enough to pay the bills. Hopefully I can save a deposit and Owen and I can have our own home. I smile at the endless opportunities we have.
Who knows? Maybe in ten years when Owie gets a little older I will meet a nice divorced man with grown children and fall in love. I guess the saddest realisation is that Owen doesn’t have a father figure to grow up with. My ex fiancé didn’t want to keep up the visits, and now wonders why he’s an ex.
We grew apart. The final straw came when I realised I would pretend to do assignments every night, just so I didn’t have to go to bed with him. I didn’t even want him touching me. How could I have ever contemplated marrying him for life?
I tried to hold on for Owen’s sake, but when it became clear to me that he didn’t really care if he saw Owen or not, I decided to walk away.
Owen deserves better. I deserve better.
So, here we are in Los Angeles. Our new hometown. Jenna flies in tonight and is staying with me for six months to get me settled so I can find some part time work and childcare. Jenna is my angel. I couldn’t have done any of this without her. I park the car and smile broadly as I open the back door.
“Out we get Owie.”
He smiles up at me and grabs his little comfort blanket and book from the seat, climbing awkwardly out of the car. I bend down and straighten his shirt and pants. “Are you ready to see our new house?” I whisper with excitement.
He smiles as he looks at the house in awe, and we walk hand-in-hand up the path toward the house.
I shuffle through my bag to find the keys that we have just picked up from the agent. I feel my nerves flutter. This house feels too extravagant for us, but I have a plan as to how I’m going to pay for it.
I didn’t want to live hours away from my mom and be unhappy in a dump.
I wanted to come home to a beautiful house each day. I want Owen to be proud to have friends over. I want to make new friends, adult girlfriends, and be able to ask them over for dinner without being ashamed of where I live. I have a job interview tomorrow at a club, working behind the bar. I’ve never done anything like it before, but with the freedom of moving where nobody knows me, I don’t care anymore. For the first time in forever I don’t care what people think of me. For so long I refused to work in a nightclub. It was as if I was ashamed of what I had become…
A single mother who worked at night in a club to support her kid.
A failure.
I thought that, down the track, if Jenna moves home and we are short on cash, I could find a young girl from the hospital that may want to board with us. That’s the plan anyway.
I slowly open the large front double doors. Owen gasps and I grin.
“Wow,” he whispers.
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my broad smile as my eyes scan the large room. There’s a grand foyer with high ceilings and a lounge room to the left. I open the door to the right and find a double garage.
He squeals in delight.
I laugh out loud.
We walk through to the end of the hall and find a large, slightly dated kitchen, with a second living area and dining room with a bathroom off of it. A large bedroom with its own entrance is at the side. This will be Jenna’s room while she is here, and there’s another small bedroom to the left. I put my hands over my mouth in disbelief. Oh my God, this house is fucking fantastic.
I love it.
Owen runs ahead in excitement up the carpeted stairs. “Where’s my room? Where’s my room?” he calls out.
I run up the stairs after him, and stop dead when I get to the top. Holy shit. This is… are we in the right house? Three bedrooms, a bathroom, and then double doors at the end of a large walkway.
I open the double doors and my mouth drops open. A parents’ retreat, a lounge area that opens onto a large bedroom, with its own bathroom and a walk in closet. Double doors open to a balcony that looks out onto the street. Windows and expensive drapes are on every wall. It’s slightly dated, but hell, it’s the best damn house I have ever seen. I beam at the sound of Owen’s squeals of delight.
“This room, I want this room!” he calls.
I run up the hall to the other end of the house and find him in the front room, and take him in my arms. “Do you like it, baby?”
For the first time in a long time, I feel proud of myself.
He nods as he grips my legs, and the sound of the moving truck out front stops us.
He laughs out loud. “I like LA, Mom.”
I take him in my arms and squeeze him hard. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”
I sit in the waiting room as my eyes scan the other girls while we all wait for our job interviews. I glance down at my attire and cringe.
I’m overdressed.
I don’t mean overdressed as in over the top clothing. I mean I’m literally overdressed—wearing too many clothes. These girls are all gorgeous. Gorgeous hoes.
Cheap looking, busty, gorgeous hoes.
I frown as a disturbing thought runs through my mind. Fuck! What kind of club is this?
I quickly take out my phone and Google:
Club Exotic, LA
My phone takes forever, and I get the ring of death as it thinks. I glance up to the interview office. Thankfully the door is still closed.
Shit, hurry up and load, you stupid thing. I may need to run like the wind to get out of here. In the job applications it didn’t say anything questionable… or did it? I quickly open the interview confirmation email and scroll through it in a panic.
Surely not.
I was appalled at being a bartender, but maybe this is normal bartender attire?
I smirk at how different applying for a medical position and a bartender position really is.
Subject: Application
From: Club Exotic
To: Ashley Tucker
Congratulations, Ashley.
You have been successful in securing an interview with Club Exotic. We look forward to meeting you at Club Exotic, 59 Palmer Street, LA at 11am on the 7th of next month.
We pay above average wages, have an excellent career development pathway plan, and we are recruiting ten team members to join our beloved crew.
Please RSVP within seven days of receiving your invitation.
Club Exotic
I frown and scroll to the top of the screen. When was this email sent? The 5th of last month. Hmm, this interview was the reason we had to get here by yesterday. Surely seedy places hire people an hour before their shift, not one month out? I glance back over to the girl sitting across from me. She’s wearing cheetah print lycra tights with sky high stilettos, and the words from that selfie song run through my head.
Who wears cheetah?
Who does fucking wear cheetah?
Her huge, droopy boobs are hanging everywhere, and her black roots on her bottle-blonde hair looks like a landing strip. My stomach rolls and I glance over at the other women waiting for their turn. I feel my run instincts kick in a little harder. One is wearing a crop top and I can see the bottom of her bra sticking out from underneath, while the other is wearing a dress that is so small, it looks like a shirt. Although attractive, they are all faked tanned to the max.
Oh, shit.
I need to go. Fucking hell. I wanted thirty-five dollars an hour. I stand and the office door opens.
“Ashley Tucker?” The kind looking lady smiles.
Oh, a lady? I frown. That’s unexpected. I was picturing a middle aged bad porn actor.
She raises her eyebrows in question. “Ashley?”
I nod nervously. “Yes, I’m Ashley.”
She holds her hand up toward her office. “This way, dear.”
I fake a smile and walk nervously into her office. Oh man, two minutes too late.
“Just take a seat, honey, sorry to keep you. I won’t be long, girls.” She smiles to the others.
“That’s okay,” they all reply in unison.
I fall into the seat and hold my handbag in my lap. Better keep it close in case I need to run.
She closes the door, sits down and smiles warmly. She is a kind looking lady; a kind cougar looking lady, to be honest. In her late forties, sure, but sexy in a glamorous way. My eyes glance around at her office to see luxurious dark navy walls with silver gilded frames, and on the back wall is a huge mirror. Plants and a large black leather lounge add to the ambience.
She folds her hands in front of her as she assesses me.
She has an inner calm about her—an inner confidence—and I feel a little jealousy sweep over me. I would give anything to have that inner calm and confidence.
It’s such a sexy quality to possess.
Her wise eyes scan over my face. “My name is Eliza.” She smiles. “So, Ashley, tell me about yourself?”
I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. “I’m twenty-seven and I’m currently studying medicine.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“Impressive. What year are you in?”
“I’m in my last year.” I smile. It never gets old telling someone that, I’m so freaking proud of myself.
She narrows her eyes. “How long have you lived in LA?”
“I just arrived yesterday… from New York.”
“What brings you here?”
“A surgeon.”
She frowns.
“I mean… I’m going to be a top surgeon’s understudy at LA Memorial hospital. I start in two days.”
“How exciting for you.” I nod. “How many children do you have?” she asks.
I frown, I never get asked that question. People always assume that, because I’m a med student, I won’t have kids. “I have one son.”
“What’s his name?”
“Owen.” I smile. Even saying his name brings out my pride.
She sits back in her chair. “So, you are here for Owen, then?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
She picks up her pen and writes something in her diary. “What are you looking for?”
I frown in question. What does she mean? A job, you fool. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?” I ask.
Her eyes flash up to me from her notes. “What position are you here for?”
I hesitate. “You have more than one job going? I wasn’t aware.”
She puts her pen down and smiles. “Do you know what we do here, Ashley?”
I swallow nervously. “You’re a club?” I fake a smile. Please be just a club.
“Yes, we are a club.”
Oh. I smile broadly.
“We are a gentlemen’s club.”
My face falls.
“We offer men an escape from their mundane lives—a fantasy, if you please.”
I go to say something intelligent, but no words will leave my mouth.
“We have five different positions open at the moment.”
I stay silent.
“There’s bar work, just normal bar work, and that pays thirty-five dollars an hour.”
I nod. “Okay,” I murmur.
“Then there is topless waitressing where you don’t have to touch or talk to the clients at all. That pays seventy dollars an hour.”
I frown and swallow the horror in my mouth.
“We do ten hour shifts, so you can do the math there.”
Fuck. That’s seven-hundred dollars a shift.
“We have dancing positions available with no contact at all, which we pay one-hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour for.”
My eyes widen. Holy shit, that’s good money. I do the math again. Twelve-hundred and fifty dollars a shift? Fuck.
“We have lap dancing positions.”
I raise an eyebrow in question. “That’s where you are requested to give our exclusive clients a lap dance. The clients are not allowed to touch you and you have a bouncer with you at all times. Our lap dancers get two-hundred and twenty-five an hour.
My mouth nearly drops open, and she smiles knowingly. “Yes, that’s right. With tips, our lap dancers earn over two thousand five hundred dollars a night.”
“Oh…” is all I can reply with. I drop my eyes to the floor. Frigging hell, why can’t I earn that kind of money serving fucking drinks? “W-what is the other position?” I ask.
She smiles sexily. “Our VIP girls do a full service. They satisfy every fantasy of our clients in a private exclusive part of the club. They are protected with their own bouncers at all times.”
My eyes widen. “Prostitution,” I whisper.
She smiles again and nods. “Yes, we have some girls that enjoy that kind of work. We pay them a flat rate of five-thousand dollars a night.”
I clutch my bag tighter on my lap as my mouth goes dry. I can’t even comprehend that kind of money.
She stands and comes around to my side of the desk. “Can you stand, dear?”
Huh?
She smirks. I must appear so damn green. “Just stand up, sweetie, and let me look at you.”
“Oh.” I frown. I stand cautiously, and her eyes scan up and down my body as she grabs my shoulders and turns me around to check out my behind.
Oh hell. Please, Earth, swallow me up.
“I think you could start out with topless.”
I shake my head and fake a smile. “No. I’m not really into my boobs. I can’t think of anything worse than walking around with them hanging out…” I hesitate and glance at the door. “In fact, I’m not really into anything here really. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”
“Take a seat, dear.”
Oh God, stop calling me dear, you madam from the best little whore house in Texas. I fall into the seat.
She points toward the door. “We have literally hundreds of girls try to get a job here. All those girls out there in the waiting room will be unsuccessful today.”
“W-why?” I stammer.
“This is an exclusive club. We have memberships that cost a lot of money. Our clients are cultured and intelligent, so we only supply them with women who are of the same nature.”
I frown.
“This isn’t a club that offers slap dash women who have slept with every man in the USA. This is a club where men can come and take pleasure in looking at intelligent, untouched women—women who are putting themselves through college and doing this for their precious children. They know that every single woman here is something special.”
I hold my breath.
She tilts her head to the side as she assesses me. “It’s very empowering, you know.”
“What is?” I ask.
“Turning on powerful men and then walking away.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes hold hers.
“You come here, you make them your bitch so they feel like they may die if they can’t have you, and then you go home to your normal life. Nobody knows what you do… except you.”
I scowl.
“Think about it, Ashley. Two thousand five hundred dollars a week for one shift.”
I clutch my bag tighter.
She raises a brow. “What holidays could you take your son on? What car would you drive? What designer clothes could you buy?”
“But I can’t imagine myself doing any of this,” I whisper.
She smiles. “And that’s exactly why we want you. I don’t want stripper wannabes. I don’t want people trying to be discovered to be famous. I want attractive, sexy, and intelligent women who know what they want from life.”
The woman does give one hell of a sales pitch.
“We have medical students. Law students, Psychology students.” She smiles. “We have girls drive four or five hours to work because they can’t get these conditions or this pay anywhere else.”
Deflation fills me. I can’t do this. Who am I kidding? “Thanks for the opportunity but—”
She cuts me off. “Come tonight. See how the club operates, meet some of the girls and then make up your mind.” She takes a credit card thing and swipes it through a machine. “This will get you through security.”
I fake a smile and take the card from her. “Thanks.” I am so not coming tonight. I stand. “Thanks for the opportunity, though.” I smile as I head toward the door.
“Ashley?” she calls.
I turn back to her.
“Take what you want from life. Make it work for you and not the other way round.”
My eyes hold hers and I feel like she can see into my soul.
“Just come and see,” she urges. “You have nothing to lose.”
I nod. “Okay. I’m just looking, though.”
She smiles and shakes my hand. “See you tonight.”
I sip my Coke as I sit at the table in the restaurant with Owie and Jenna. My mind has been in overdrive since my job interview this morning. Owen is playing on his iPad and Jenna is sipping her wine.
She looks around excitedly. “I love LA. So many gorgeous men everywhere.”
I smile and raise a brow. “Me, too.”
“You have been very quiet since your interview this morning. Tell me more about it…” she asks. I haven’t had a moment alone with her since I went this morning. Owen has been in ear’s distance the whole time.
I blow out a breath and start to stab the ice in my glass with my straw. “It was okay.”
“And…?”
I frown and gesture to Owie. She shuffles around in her bag and pulls out some coins. “Owie, can you go and try and win us some chocolates from the vending machine in the kids play area?”
Owen’s eyes light up in excitement as he snatches the coins from her and runs.
Jenna’s eyes fall to my face. “What happened?”
“Oh, Jenna, what a fucking disaster.”
“Why?” She frowns. “It sounded so good.”
“It… It was good.” I stammer. “Like two and a half thousand dollars a night good.”
“What?” She frowns. “Doing what?”
“Lap dancing.”
She smirks into her drink.
“Apparently, they are an exclusive gentlemen’s club and you get your own bouncer. The man aren’t allowed to touch you.”
She sips her drink as she listens.
“And the pay is two-hundred and twenty-five dollars an hour over a ten-hour shift.”
She frowns as if suddenly interested. “And you don’t have to touch them at all?”
I shrug as I stab my ice in my glass again. “Who knows? They probably make you fuck table legs.”
She giggles around her drink.
“They asked me to go and check it out tonight.”
She frowns. “What time are you leaving?”
I screw up my face. “I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“This is where you are supposed to be the adult and tell me it’s a ridiculous idea.”
She shrugs. “You should at least check it out. It couldn’t hurt? That’s a lot of money.”
I roll my eyes.
She leans in so nobody can hear us. “Listen, I just want you to have some fun. I don’t care if you damn well sleep with them. Nobody knows you here. Get out there and enjoy life.”
“Ugh. Can you hear yourself?” I cringe.
“Ashley, since you had Owen, I have watched my positive, strong best friend wither away to become a shadow of the former girl I once knew.”
My eyes hold hers.
“Stop punishing yourself for falling pregnant. I don’t want to see you stay at home every Saturday night eating mac ‘n’ cheese and watching Finding Nemo, while struggling to pay every damn bill. You are a fantastic mother, Ash, but please put your needs first for a change.”
“I wouldn’t change having Owen,” I argue.
She grabs my hand over the table. “I know, baby, and I know you tried to make it work with Andrew. I’m just asking you to check it out and give yourself the opportunity to meet new people.”
“Who would mind Owen when you go back to New York?” I sigh, defeated.
“That’s six months away, and besides…” She shrugs. “I could maybe get a place here. I have nothing dragging me back home. Who knows? Mr. Perfect might come here looking for me?”
I smirk and stab my ice cubes with my straw once more.
“That’s ten thousand dollars a month, Ash. Imagine what you could do with that? We could go to Hawaii.” She grins.
I blow out a breath. “I can’t lap dance for shit.” I shake my head.
“Sure you can. You can practice on me.”
I laugh into my drink. “I am not practicing lap dancing on my best friend. That’s just going too far.”
Owie bounces back to the table. “I won a Snickers Bar.” He shows us excitedly.
Jenna finishes her drink. “Come on, we need to get going.”
Owen picks up his iPad and book.
“Mom’s going to work tonight, kiddo, so it’s just you and me. Let’s get some ice cream on the way home.”
“Yes.” He beams.
Jenna’s eyes scan me up and down. “We’ve got to find you something to wear.”
I scrub my hands down my face. “Oh God, it gets worse. Shit’s getting real.”
4
I sit in my car and watch the large, heavy front doors of Club Exotic across the street. It’s 10pm and my nerves are pumping under my surprisingly calm exterior.
“Ashley, what are you doing here?” I whisper to myself.
With each man that arrives, my heart rate goes up another twenty beats per minute. These are no sleazy street guys. They’re middle aged, handsome men in expensive suits. My mind goes back to the little sales pitch Madam Whorehouse gave me today.
And that’s exactly why we want you. I don’t want stripper wannabes. I don’t want people trying to be discovered to be famous. I want attractive, sexy, and intelligent women who know what they want from life.
It all sounds too good to be true, but I could never imagine doing this. I get a vision of myself half naked, writhing on a stranger’s lap, and I cringe and bring the car engine to life again. I can’t do this. Who am I kidding? I steer the car out of the parking lot and pull out into the traffic. Her words run through my mind again:
Think about it, Ashley. Two and a half thousand dollars a week for one shift.
What holidays could you take your son on? What car would you drive? What designer clothes could you buy?
I blow out a deflated breath and pull into Starbucks. I need some time alone to think. I would love a cocktail somewhere, but I’m not going to a bar alone. I park the car, get out, and walk in deep thought.
“Welcome to Starbucks. What would you like to order tonight?” the young, chirpy male assistant asks.
I scan the lit up menu board behind him. “I’ll take a caramel latte and a chocolate mud cake, please?”
“Sure.”
I pay and make my way over to a table. I feel sick—partly because I know what I should do financially, and then what I know I am capable of.
Dancing naked in a whorehouse isn’t on either list.
But…
The money would make such a difference to Owen’s quality of life… and mine.
My number is called and I go and pick up my coffee and cake, then take a seat back at my table. I wonder what the girls wear for a uniform?
Nothing, you idiot. Half the women don’t even have tank tops on. I screw up my face as I imagine the boob fest just hanging out in the open for everyone to see. I wonder what the VIP girls are like. Jeez, I can’t imagine going to work and just casually fucking people as if it means nothing. But, five grand a night is insane.
The guys they fuck are probably hot, too. I smirk into my coffee cup. Imagine banging a hot, intelligent man and getting five thousand dollars for the privilege. Hell.
I wonder what they spend their money on? I get a vision of crazy expensive handbags and vacations.
Morals are overrated. I could do with an extra twenty-thousand dollars a month.
If only…
Imagine if I did do the VIP job, and then one day in the future Owen found out.
My eyes widen in horror.
How could you ever explain to your child that you were a prostitute? That you let men fuck you for money. You couldn’t. They would never understand and there is no possible excuse you could ever use, because it’s inexcusable. I shake my head in disgust that I even contemplated working in a place like that. I eat my cake and drink my coffee alone, and even though I’ve made the decision not to go in and check out the club, an annoying little voice inside is telling me it’s the wrong one.
I need money. I desperately need money. I moved Jenna all the way here to help with Owen and I have to damn well find a job that pays well.
This isn’t a club that offers slap dash women who have slept with every man in the USA. This is a club where men can come and take pleasure in looking at intelligent, untouched women—women who are putting themselves through college and doing this for their precious children. They know that every single woman here is something special.
Untouched women. Does that mean that I might meet women who are just like me and trying to make ends meet to get through college? She did say that the women who work there are all young professionals.
Women who want a better life for their kids…
I sip my coffee, deep in thought as I twist the ring on my finger. Maybe she says that to everyone who applies. The girls are probably all druggy smack heads. I can’t imagine decent women ever working there. But with that kind of money, I sort of can. I drag myself back out to my car, and then I pull out into the traffic, for some reason finding myself driving straight back to Club Exotic, where I park the car across the road in the darkness. I’ll just ring Jenna and tell her I am on my way home soon.
She picks up first ring. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“I didn’t go in.”
“What? Why not?”
I shrug. “I can’t work in a brothel, Jen.”
She stays silent on the other end of the phone.
“I‘ll get another job somewhere else.”
“You said it was a club.”
“It is...” I hesitate. “But there’s this VIP section, too, so effectively it’s a brothel.”
“The VIP section is not where you are working.”
“Yes, but some men are there for sex and sex alone.”
“Okay, so every nightclub in the United States of America, actually the world, is basically a brothel, too, then.”
I frown. “How?” Trust her to be all Devil’s advocate on me when I really just need her to agree with my cowardice.
“I guestimate that sixty percent of men in nightclubs are there for sex.”
I listen in silence.
“So, do you mean to tell me you won’t go to a nightclub because men are just there for sex?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s different.”
“How? You tell me how? You need a job. You have a babysitter at night. It’s one or two nights a week, Ash, and it’s behind the bloody bar.”
“She wants me to topless waitress.”
“Just say no.”
I think for a moment.
“Go in, see what it’s about, and if you feel uncomfortable walk out and don’t go back.”
I roll my lips and think as my eyes rise to a group of men disappearing into the club.
“Look, even the bloody bar jobs pay three fifty a night. For two shifts that’s seven -hundred a week, Ash. How could you earn that money while working full time for free at the hospital?”
I run my finger over my steering wheel as I think.
“You would have to be stupid to not even check it out. Hell, I’m thinking I might apply there, too.”
I smile as I imagine her walking around topless. “Now you are being ridiculous.”
“Yes, and you are being a prude.”
“What if Owen ever found out?” I sigh.
“Found out what? His mother worked behind a bar while she was studying to be a surgeon. I think Owen would be bloody proud that his mother got a second job to put a roof over his head.”
I slide back into my seat. Maybe she’s right…
“Just go in and see what they say.”
My eyes stay fixed on the door across the road.
“You don’t know anyone here, Ash. For the first time ever you can be whoever you want to be… and if that’s a part-time nympho, then so be it. It could actually be fun.”
I smile softly.
“Go in and make some new friends. Hell, tomorrow morning you will be cooking breakfast, making beds, and scrubbing fucking bathrooms. Enjoy being someone else for the night.”
I run my hand through my hair. “Do you think I look okay?” I ask.
“Yes, smoking hot. The guys will all cream their pants when they catch sight of you.”
I laugh as I look down at the dress I’m wearing. A camel, woolen ribbed dress, fitted with short-capped sleeves, which falls to my calves. It’s tight and sexy without being revealing or cheap. I have high, strappy tan sandals on, and my honey-colored hair is down and full with set curls. Jen did my makeup, I have smoky eyes and a pink gloss on my lips.
I look good, I know I look good, but for a place like this, I have no idea if it is appropriate.
“Are you going in?” she asks.
My heart jumps in my chest. “Yeah, I guess.” I pause as I move the rear view mirror to check my makeup. “God, I feel sick. I’m so nervous.”
“Just check it out. You may be home in an hour. It could be totally shit. Don’t stay if it’s seedy.”
“Okay.” I nod with renewed enthusiasm. “I can do this.”
“You can.”
“Right, wish me luck.”
“Good luck, babe.”
I hang up and blow out a deep breath. Just go in there and check it out, you can leave any time you want to, I remind myself. I gingerly get out of the car and take out the card that Eliza gave me to get into the club. I hold it in my hand and stare at it for a moment.
I feel like I’m on the precipice of going to Hell. Maybe I’m about to catch on fire.
The good girl in me is begging me to go home and get a job knitting sweaters.
The bad girl in me is daring me to go in and sex it up—show these men exactly what they can’t have.
The struggle I feel daily between my conscience and my responsibilities is real.
I put my hand on my stomach as I try to calm my nerves and walk across the road to the large, black double doors.
There are four bouncers in black suits standing around. They all look me up and down as I approach them.
“Hello…” I pause. “Eliza invited me to come tonight.”
The tall man smiles sexily as his eyes scan me up and down. “What’s your name, miss?”
Ah, shit. What is my name? I can’t go with my real one. Umm. “Vivienne Jones,” I reply calmly.
The doormen all exchange looks and smile warmly. “Welcome, Miss Vivienne.” One purrs.
I push out a grateful smile, satisfied that they fell for it. I feel a surge of excitement that nobody questioned my fake name. Vivienne Jones—that’s pretty cool to be honest. I like it.
“Thank you,” I answer nervously. He steps aside, opens the door, and holds his hand out. I tentatively walk in.
I feel the air leave my lungs as the door shuts behind me.
Uh oh.
It looks like something out of a movie. When I was here for my interview, we were taken in the back entrance and didn’t see any of this. There’s dim lighting with deep coffee coloured walls and big fancy metal cut out lights hanging down from the super high ceilings. The floor is tiered to different levels with large carpeted steps running up the center. It could be an old picture theatre or something that has been converted. Spanning the whole back wall is the most exotic looking bar I have ever seen, and the bottom level has table and chairs which are situated around a catwalk stage. Shit, I wonder what shows go on down there?
The second level has large, luxurious leather armchairs placed singularly, facing toward the stage. The next level up is full of small round high tables with bar stools. My eyes rise up to the top level—the bar and busiest level of all three. My eyes flicker around nervously as I try to get my bearings. There are about fifty men in here, although it feels practically empty. Jeez, it must hold a lot of people when it’s full. I stand frozen on the spot as my eyes scan the space. There seems to be about ten women working behind the bar. Gorgeous women, all wearing cream leather skirts that are high waisted and hang just below the knee. Wearing tops made of, what looks like, cream silk that cross over in a drape across the chest and tuck into their high waisted skirts. Every now and then, as they move, you can just see a peek of the caramel-colored lace bra they have on underneath. I swallow my fear as I watch them for a moment. They’re all attractive, and I have to admit it, they do look classy… and happy. They’re all smiling and laughing with the customers... clients… what the hell do you call these guys?
This isn’t what I imagined at all.
My thoughts are interrupted. “You must be Ashley?”
I jump in fright and put my hand on my chest. “Oh, you frightened me.” I smile, embarrassed by the kind but hot looking woman that has just approached me. “Yes, I am,” I mutter. “But I don’t want to use that name here if that’s okay?”
She smiles a knowing smile. “Of course. What would you like to be called?”
“Vivienne Jones.” I wince. God, this is so wanky.
“Nice.” She holds out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Tiffany Smith.” She gives me an over-exaggerated wink and I smile, knowing that’s her fake name.
“Eliza told me to look out for you.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Is she here?”
“Not yet, she doesn’t start until eleven when the club opens.”
I look around. “Isn’t it opened now?”
“No, no. This is just the starting crowd. Things don’t heat up until 11.30 or so.”
“Oh.” I wonder what heat up means?
“Let’s get you a drink and you can hang with me until Elli gets here.”
Jeez, I’m like the new kid at school who is assigned a buddy. I fake a smile. This is awkward. “Okay.”
She walks over to the bar and I follow her like a child. This place is freaking uncomfortable. She walks to the side of the bar and opens up the black, glossy door into the back of the bar and I stand still. “Come in.” She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her.
“Don’t be nervous,” she whispers over her shoulder.
“This is just so far out of my comfort zone,” I whisper back.
She smiles cheekily. “It was for me, too, when I started.” She turns and looks me up and down. “You a law student?”
I shake my head. “Med.”
She smiles.
“You?” I ask.
“Engineer.”
I smile my first real smile. “Is this place really shitty? Should I just run now?”
She laughs out loud as she turns and pulls me along the back of the bar toward the end. “This is the best job I’ve ever had. It’s not what it looks like.”
I widen my eyes and glance back at the girls serving drinks behind us. She pulls up a stool and sits me at the end so that I am looking out into the crowd but out of the way. “What do you want to drink?”
Fucking Tequila!
“Cointreau and Coke, please,” I murmur.
She smiles and turns back to make it, while I sit perched on my stool like a freak in an exhibition. The men have started to notice me. Some are making eye contact and giving me a subtle nod. I nervously nod back in acknowledgement. I can’t believe the caliber of men in this place.
It’s ridiculous.
You just don’t see men this handsome out and about, and if they aren’t good looking, they are immaculately dressed and scream of success. So even they seem attractive.
A bouncer comes to the other side of the bar. He’s blonde, big, and muscular.
“Hi, I’m Matt.” He grins and shakes my hand.
“Hi. I’m Vivienne.” I smile awkwardly.
“You starting tonight?”
He seems nice and friendly and I shake my head. “No, I’m just here to look. I don’t think I’m starting at all.”
He looks me up and down. “Elli won’t let you go. You’re too hot.”
My confidence gets a much-needed boost. I drop my head to hide my smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. I feel my face flush with heat. “Have you worked here long?” I ask, to change the subject.
“Yeah, about two years. Putting myself through college.”
“What are you studying?”
“Environmental science.”
“Third year?” I ask.
“Fourth, but good guess.”
I smile, relieved that this place isn’t half as awful as I imagined.
Tiffany arrives back over. “I have to go back to the door. You okay here for a while?”
“Sure. What do you do on the door?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m the greeter tonight.”
“Oh.” I frown at her expression. “And this is a bad thing?”
“Fuck, yes. It’s so dull. I usually lap dance. But the door girl is off tonight.”
My eyes widen and she laughs at my expression. “I used to think that, too, but seriously… I get paid a stupid amount of money to turn on gorgeous men.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. “So, you are topless when you dance?” I ask.
She shrugs. “No, we wear tops.” She smiles cheekily. “They are just completely see-through.”
“Oh.”
She throws me a wink and goes back to her position near the door, and I sit frozen still, hoping nobody will notice the nerdy girl at the end of the bar. Over the next half an hour, I have three more drinks while I watch gorgeous men arrive, one after the other. Some are in groups, others on their own. Although, even the ones who arrive alone seem to know others that are here. How does this work? Do these men come here to socialize? I bet a lot of them are married and this is their dirty little secret. I watch them all standing around the bench tables, down on level two and around the bar. The chatter is loud, and they are all wearing expensive suits and smelling like money. Hmm, it must be expensive to come here. I glance around to make sure nobody is watching and I get out my phone and Google.
Club Exotic Membership.
I wait for it to load and a webpage comes up.
Club Exotic.
Gentleman’s Bar.
Club exotic is currently not taking new members. However, please feel free to put your name on the waiting list.
Hmm, God. No new members. That must mean they have their capacity. Matt walks back over to check on me. “You okay Vivienne?”
I smile and suck on my straw. I’m kind of having fun to be honest. “How many members are there here?”
Matt frowns. “I think there are about two thousand five hundred.”
My eyes widen. “God, that’s a lot. How much is it to join?”
“It varies. I think the basic bronze membership is around fifty thousand.”
I frown in horror.
“The silver membership is seventy-five.”
My mouth nearly drops open. “A year?” I frown.
He nods. “And the gold is about one-ten.?”
I nearly swallow my tongue. “What’s the difference between the memberships?”
“Bronze has access to the facilities.”
I frown. “Facilities?”
“Oh, there is an open bar and an award winning restaurant, a gym...”
“So, they don’t pay for anything when they are here?”
He shakes his head. “No. Oh, and they get vouchers.”
“Vouchers?”
“They get, like, ten lap dances a year, and I think they get a couple of nights in the Escape Lounge.” He gestures down the front and I see a door with a lit up sign over it.
ESCAPE CLUB
“What do the silver memberships get?”
“They get the same, but with unlimited lap dances and more vouchers for the Escape Lounge. Those guys have to pay for their drinks, though.”
I nod as I sip my drink. This is unbelievable. “What time does it open?”
“There is an 11am till 5pm session on Thursdays and Fridays. And then Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursday, and Friday nights.”
Shit, so the fuckers can slip in and out of here during work hours. Bring in the weekend with a bang, so to speak. “It’s not open weekends?” I ask.
“No, she caters for the business class. They are busy on the weekends.”
Yeah… with their wives and kids. Revolting.
“Suits us. We get weekends off.” He smirks.
Hmm, that is a big bonus.
My eyes drop to the door down below as I see a beautiful woman use a scanner key to get inside the Escape Club entrance. “What do they get for gold memberships?” I ask.
He smiles. “Anything they want with the comfort of confidentiality. Every member and staff member has to sign a confidentially agreement. An NDA. This place is more guarded than a prison. Not just anyone can join, either. You have to be sponsored by another member.”
My eyes widen.
“That’s why they pay the big money… To safeguard their reputations.”
“Wow,” I whisper.
“Some of them just come here to drink, but they know when they are here they are not going to be hassled or photographed, and no silly bimbo is going to go to the press next week for some cash. The girls here are more guarded of their reputations than the men.”
I sip my drink deep in thought. “Impressive.”
“Do you need another drink?”
I stare at my glass for a moment. I really shouldn’t, but I have to admit these are going down nicely. “Okay, one more, maybe.” I smirk.
He walks over and orders me a drink from one of the girls. I sit and watch my surroundings. This place has an electric feel to it. It’s not at all what I expected. The girls are all classy and the men aren’t ogling them like they’re a piece of meat.
Hmm, I’m kind of impressed, to be honest.
“Ashley, dear, you came,” Eliza interrupts my thoughts as she holds out her hand to shake mine.
I smile awkwardly. “Hello.” Wearing a tight black dress, she looks amazing.
Her eyes scan down my body and then back up to my face. “You look divine. Have you had the tour?”
I shake my head nervously. “No.”
“What is your name here?” she asks softly.
“Vivienne Jones,” I murmur.
She smiles knowingly. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Vivienne. I am so happy you came.” She leads me by the hand through the men, and down the large stairs. I can feel the men’s eyes on me as we pass through them, but I keep my eyes focused on her back as she walks in front of me. Hell, this makes me feel sick.
We get to the bottom and walk over to the large, black door where I saw the girls disappearing into earlier. Eliza swipes her security card and we walk in.
My eyes widen. Holy shit.
This looks like backstage of a Victoria Secret show. Small dressing tables line the large space and girls all have hot rollers in their hair and robes on their backs. A few are doing each other’s makeup, while others are doing each other’s hair.
“Girls, this is Vivienne,” Eliza announces proudly.
“Their eyes all flicker to me and they smile. “Hi, Viv,” they all chant cheekily. There is a playful air about them, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m hoping Vivienne is going to be starting in the Escape Club.” Eliza smiles warmly at me. “I’m just showing her around.”
I see a few of the girl’s eyes flash to me, as if shocked. What? Isn’t that normal? Anyway, it doesn’t matter because I’m only working behind the bar.
My nerves start to flutter as she pulls me to the other side and through a large archway. “This is our closet.”
My mouth drops open. Cream leather suits and skirts all lined up on racks, just like in a shop. There are huge baskets filled with cream and caramel colored lingerie, and expensive, gold high heels lined up in pairs. “This is our uniform wardrobe. Everything is dry cleaned daily and hung back up here.”
Her eyes fall back to me. “The girls don’t have to worry about laundering their own uniforms. Leather can be tricky.”
I fake a smile. I bet.
She walks to the end and a long rack of cream, sheer, loose tank tops all hang in neat rows.
Unable to help myself, I reach up and touch the fabric.
“Organza,” Eliza purrs.
My eyebrows rise. “Oh.” Jeez.
“These are the tops our dancers wear with these bottoms.” She pulls out the bottom drawer and it is filled with coffee-colored, short, leather hot pants.
I hate to admit it, but with the cream and caramel color palettes mixed with the leather and lace, it really gives off an expensive, sexy feel.
“They don’t wear the skirts?” I frown.
“No, it’s hard to straddle a seated man, lap dance in a tight leather skirt, and still maintain your dignity.”
Not the answer I was expecting, but okay. She leads me through into another room where there is a beauty salon and two European male hairdressers.
“Franco and Merrin, meet Vivienne.”
They both look me up and down and smile.
I nervously pull my woolen dress down. This is all just so… weird.
“You get all of your beauty and hair needs looked after free of charge when you work here.” Eliza’s eyes flicker to me. “And the laser hair removal is on the house.”
Shit. Well, blow me down. That’s a service I never expected to get for free.
“What position are you starting, Vivienne?” Franco asks.
“Oh.” I smile awkwardly. “I’m interested in the bar position.”
His eyes flash to Eliza and she smiles. “Sweet Vivienne, you will waste away behind the bar. You are way to gorgeous for that.”
I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t think—”
She cuts me off. “We will talk about that later, dear. Come. I have lots to show you.”
“Bye.” I wave to the two people I have just met as she drags me by the hand.
We walk out into another large room and I stop on the spot. Rows and rows of designer evening gowns are lined up on racks, and girls are starting to look through the garments. Sequins and feathers are everywhere. Wow, this is something else.
“Hi, Elli,” they all call as they keep going through the racks. I frown. What the hell are they doing?
As if reading my mind, Eliza answers me. “They’re picking what they want to wear tonight.”
Huh?
“Every night, we have a fashion parade displaying new designers.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Young and upcoming designers bring in their evening wear and the girls do a catwalk show before the cocktail party.”
“Cocktail party?” I ask.
She smiles knowingly. Jeez, I should shut my mouth. I look like I am interested in this shit. “I mean… it doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want to know about the Escape Lounge?”
My eyes hold hers. I do, but only because I want to know what kind of place this is.
“I suppose,” I whisper.
She walks off to the left over to two large double doors. “Come, let me show you.”
We go through the double doors and it opens onto another bar area private from the rest of the club, and way more exotic. A large water feature is in the middle and the lighting is moody and sexy. Waiters are behind the bar making cocktails. I frown again. The bar staff are all male out here.
Eliza watches me intently, knowing full well that my mind is abuzz with questions.
“Every night, out in the club, we have a fashion parade with twenty-four of the most beautiful woman we have.”
I frown.
“Every night, we have twenty-four men who have reserved their Escape night.”
My skin prickles.
“At the end of the fashion parade the Escape girls have a private cocktail party out here where they choose their partner for the night.”
Goosebumps scatter up my spine.
“Ch-choose?” I stammer, wide eyed.
“Being an Escape girl doesn’t mean that you automatically have to sleep with anyone, but you are required to spend the night in one of our suites with the one of your choosing.”
The look on my face must be a sight because Eliza laughs out loud. “Don’t look so horrified, Vivienne.”
I stare at her, dumfounded.
“Would you like to see a suite?”
I nod, because all words have escaped me and I feel like an idiot. She walks over to the large, smoke-mirrored elevator doors and pushes the button. The doors immediately open and we hop in.
“We have twenty-four apartments,” she continues.
As the elevator door opens on the first floor, she glides out into a luxury corridor, opening the door to one of the apartments.
“Each Escape girl has an apartment for the night. It’s a twelve-hour shift.” She holds her arm out to gesture for me.
I gaze at the amazing space. “So, this is the position you get paid five-thousand a night for?” I whisper.
She smiles. “Yes. That’s right.”
I walk past her into the room as I feel my heart rate quicken. The room is beautiful and exudes luxury. Leather lounges surround a fireplace, and huge bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases are scattered throughout the apartment. Champagne and chocolate-coated strawberries are in the glass door refrigerator. I continue into the bedroom and see the most amazing bed I have ever seen, dressed in huge white linen, inviting with big, fancy cushions. The black marble bathroom has a sunken spa bath and a triple headed shower nozzle.
Holy hell. This place is something else. I walk around in awe. I’ve never been in such a beautiful space in all of my life.
Eliza turns to me.
“You have something special, Vivienne.”
I force a nervous smile.
She folds her arms in front of her and leans her behind back against the leather lounge. “Every girl in this club wants this position, but I’m not interested in them. I want you, Vivienne. I want you as an Escape girl.” She smiles as she brushes the hair back from my forehead to look at my face.
My breath catches in my throat.
“You can start tonight.”