“Nothing,” she lied. “It’s just time for me to make a change.”
“Hmm. Your other buddies said the same thing.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms as I pushed, “I’m not buying, so why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, or we can end this thing right here and now.”
The young redhead let out a defeated sigh, then said, “It’s Gary. He’s the manager, and I guess you could say he’s been abusing his power.”
“How’s that?”
“He has full control of our schedules, so if we want a good shift or any kind of change to the schedule, we have to provide him with certain services.” She sat there in her cropped tank top and barely there skirt, and a look of innocence crossed her face as she admitted, “For some girls, it isn’t a big deal, but for me, it’s a really big deal.”
“Sounds like Gary is a fucking tool.”
“Gary is a huge fucking tool, but he’s my boss. I’m kind of stuck with him unless I can find another job.”
“Well, you and your friends won’t have to worry about that shit anymore.” I placed her application with the other possible candidates, then said, “You can tell the others to be expecting a call back.”
“Really?”
“No guarantees, but I’ll do my best to find a place for you all. If not here, somewhere that will do you right.”
“Thank you so much, Mister—”
“The name’s Menace, and no need to thank me. At least, not yet.”
“Well, I appreciate you trying to help.” She grabbed her purse, then skirted over to the door. “I’ll look forward to your call.”
I was feeling pretty good about things when she walked out of my office. Between Mazie and her other friends from the Pink Pony, we had the shifts covered and were in good shape. I was about to tell Marlowe we could call it a day when a woman appeared in my doorway, and not just any woman. This one wasn’t anything like the girls who’d come in before her. She had the deepest blue eyes, soft porcelain skin, and hair so white it made her look like an angel. She was wearing jeans, a white lace top, and sandals—not the kind of thing you’d expect a woman to wear to a stripper interview. Red flag.
“Excuse me. The girl out front told me to come see you about the position you have for the… um... the str-dancer position.”
She couldn’t even say the word stripper. Red flag.
“By dancer, I hope you mean stripper because this is a strip club.”
A bright red blush crept over her face the second I said stripper. Red flag.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She tried to recover by adding, “That’s what I meant.”
“Mm-hmm. You got a name?”
“Yes.” She smiled bashfully and tucked a strand of her silky hair behind her ear as she answered, “Aubrey. Aubrey… um... Cash.”
There was no way in hell that was her real name. Yet another Red flag.
I should’ve sent her packing right then and there, but I didn’t. There was something about this chick that had me thinking about Mallory. I’d tried to reach out to my sister many times over the years, but she’d made it clear that she had no interest in reuniting as brother and sister—I simply brought too many memories to the table. Even though she wanted nothing to do with the memories or me, I tried to keep an eye on her. I knew she bounced around from job to job, so I’d put money in her account from time to time. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever considered working in a strip club, and if so, had she come face to face with a guy like me. If so, I hoped the guy would give her a chance to see it through. It was that very thought that kept me from sending this Aubrey chick on her way. Doing my best to play along with her charade, I asked, “So, you’re here about a job?”
“Yes.” She stepped over to my desk and offered me her application. “I was hoping to interview for the opening you posted.”
“Do you have any experience?”
“No, but I’ve been told I’m an okay dancer, and I’m a quick learner.”
“Being a quick learner isn’t going to get you very far in a place like this.”
Her eyes skirted to the floor as she inhaled a deep breath. It was as if she was trying to muster the courage to say whatever was on her mind. After several minutes, she looked up at me and said, "Peter Brant suggested that I come here if I ever needed a job.”
“Peter Brant?” I didn’t know the Brants all that well—just that they were Lynch’s grandparents who owned a diner out in Colorado. They’d come down when Lynch was patched in. It was easy to see they were both good people who loved their grandson, which made it that much harder on Lynch when they were murdered during a burglary at their diner. “He and his wife were killed over six months ago.”
“Yes, I’m aware. It was awful the way they died, but...I knew them before any of that happened. Look, I really need this job.” I heard the urgency in her voice, and I couldn’t deny it got to me. I wanted to know why Mr. Brant would suggest that a woman like her should come work in a strip club—a place she clearly didn’t belong. “I’m sure there have been lots of women who’ve applied for the position, and I’m sure they all would do an incredible job, but I give you my word that none of them will work harder than me. I just need a chance to prove it.”
Beautiful. Well spoken. Determined. I liked her, but the woman standing in front of me was no stripper. She was all class and could get a job anywhere, which intrigued me. I was curious as to why she was so desperate for a job. I shouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t my job to care, but I did. I wanted to know just how desperate she really was, so I said, “Okay, let’s see what ya got.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s see the moves. The goods.”
“You want me to strip? Right here? Right now?”
“If you can’t handle that, the door’s right behind you.”
Aubrey turned her head and glanced back at the door, and for a moment, I feared she’d bolt, but she didn’t. Instead, she inhaled a deep breath and slipped off her sandals. Her trembling fingers reached for the buttons of her shirt, and she started unfastening them one by one. Her eyes met mine as she slowly slipped the white cotton fabric over her delicate shoulders, letting it slide down her arms. That’s when it happened. All my good-guy, brotherly instincts went flying out the window, and my cock, which had been completely flaccid all morning long, stirred to life and started throbbing against my zipper. Fuck.
I wanted to look away, to have a moment to collect myself, but I was completely mesmerized as I watched her top drift down to the floor and pool at her feet. She was trying her damnedest to come off poised and self-assured, but I could see that glimmer of insecurity flickering in her eyes. Aubrey was clearly nervous, but she didn’t let that stop her from dropping her hands to her waist and unfastening the button of her jeans. With her baby blues still locked on mine, she lowered the zipper and hooked her thumbs in the waistband. I thought she’d simply stand there and undress, which suited my aching cock just fine, but then she started seductively swaying her hips from side to side, all the while slowly removing her jeans.