Just hurry up, change, and you can meet Sunil. Get through this.
She undressed and put the outfit on. It took some doing, since the bottom half of it was like a complicated cat’s cradle of string and judiciously arranged fabric triangles. Once it was on, she avoided looking in the mirror. She wasn’t uncomfortable with her body, but the bustier and tiny panties were more daring than her most daring underwear.
What did the bartenders wear here?
Do not think of Naveen in tiny panties right now.
She carefully folded all her clothes. Her father’s lighter fell out of his jacket and she scooped it up, and tucked it into her bustier. Not like she had pockets, and she felt an odd compulsion to keep the damn thing on her. She added their bundle of cash to her top as an afterthought. Good thing she had space to hold things in there.
She donned the stilettos Glenda had given her and emerged from behind the curtain to find Glenda standing there, checking her phone. She looked up at Mira and nodded. “Not bad. You’re a different type from most of the girls, which might work well for you tonight. For future gigs, though, you might have to lose ten pounds.”
“You can say that to someone you’re hiring as a waitress?” Mira asked, skeptical.
Glenda smirked. “You’re all models, sweetheart. We can dictate your appearance. Now, chop, chop, do your hair and makeup.” Glenda took in her empty hands. “I assume you brought your cosmetics with you?”
Mira finger combed her hair. “No. Sorry.”
Glenda’s sigh came from her toes, and she used a key to jerk open a drawer, from which she pulled a sealed red lipstick, eyeliner, and new brush. “This will come from your paycheck.”
Mira whispered a silent apology to the absent Jyoti who she was impersonating, and took the items. Her hair had grown curly and wild during their adventure, so she only brushed it to make it bigger, then slicked the lipstick and eyeliner on, drawing it much heavier than she usually did.
She squinted at herself in the mirror when she was done. Whoa. Who was she?
Mira took pride in her appearance, but she was honest enough to realize that she wasn’t exactly sexy, and she never tried to cultivate sexy anyway. She was cute, she was quietly attractive, she was presentable: all the things that looked good on her wife resume.
She felt sexy right now, though.
“Good. Let’s get you out there with the others.”
Mira had never been to a strip club, but this one was more like lush club. Or perhaps the set for some HBO show. Half a dozen waitresses dressed like her milled around, some chatting with men at the bar, others draped over the plush burgundy booths and chairs where patrons were sitting. The massive stage had multiple poles, and seriously athletic and talented women gyrated on them in various states of dress and undress. The bar was gorgeous black granite, underlit with neon lighting.
And Naveen was not behind that bar. “Um, where is my, um . . . the guy I came with?”
“Your boyfriend is on the second floor. It’s ladies’ night up there. Don’t worry, you’ll work both floors. But don’t waste time chatting with him, or you won’t be making any tips tonight and it’s unlikely you’ll get to come back. Now go on. You can go to the bar to get your assigned section.” With that, Glenda turned and left.
Mira glanced around her, some of her confidence in her sexiness leeching away as shadowy men observed her.
She didn’t have time to be self-conscious, though, and she definitely didn’t have time to figure out which section was hers. Pray she didn’t need to be here long enough to even have a section.
Second floor, second floor . . .
The elevator was off a hallway, discreet enough. She pressed 2, and smiled tightly at the tipsy men who got on the elevator with her. She could feel their gazes on her butt when the door opened and she got off.
The vibe on the second floor was similar to the first, except up here, the majority, but not all, of the patrons were women, and the strippers were men. Mira stopped as the curtain on one of the stages parted and a jacked firefighter came out.
He danced down the stage, losing his clothes with a smile on his face. His suspenders cut across his washboard abs, and his pants were definitely not flame retardant, given how they tore away. Once he was down to just a G-string, he suggestively peeled it lower and lower as the customers tucked dollar bills into them.
Holy shit.
Oh no. Was bartender code for stripper? Was Naveen currently in the back, waiting to go onstage?
A waitress passing by bumped into her. “Hey, are you new?”
Mira nodded, wary. “Yes.”
“Heads-up, you gotta work instead of ogle. They got cameras all over this place, and the owner is always watching. He’ll sic Glenda on you if you look like you’re not busy.” She gave Mira a conspiratorial wink. “A friendly tip.”
The owner. “Have you ever had to meet the, um, owner?”
“Nope. He’s kind of a hermit. Hope you don’t, either. I’ve heard he’s really mean.” The woman hesitated, like she’d said too much, and cast a worried glance above them, at the various cameras. “But also fair,” she said, louder.
Mira gave her a weak smile and scanned the room again. Where was Naveen? Had Sunil already made him as an interloper? Or had he left, deeming this far too much for him?
She wouldn’t blame him if he had stormed out of here. After all, who would . . .
We have to play as a team.
No. He wouldn’t have left. She had to believe in him a little. “Thanks for the heads-up. Where’s the bar on this floor?”
The girl pointed, and Mira made her way through the crush of screaming and hollering customers. One good thing was that if their kidnappers did chase them here, the two men would stick out like sore thumbs.
It was when she was about five feet away from the bar that a gaggle of women in BACHELORETTE sashes swanned off and she caught sight of Naveen. All of the air vanished from her lungs.
Holy mama.
He was wearing tight leather pants that fastened below his belly button, and a bow tie around his neck. And literally, that was it. No shirt. Nothing.
Unlike the other bartenders and the strippers, he didn’t have a perfect six-pack, but the man didn’t need it. He was muscular without being showy, and somehow, the sexiness of his lean brown belly with its slight curve was better than all of the defined stomachs in the world.
He took the stack of glasses from one of the other bartenders and his forearms flexed. God, those forearms. Remember those forearms?
She’d traced them with her fingers and her tongue. Once he’d pushed his shirtsleeves up in front of her, and she’d nearly attacked him.
Naveen nodded at the other man and turned to place the glasses behind him. His torso stretched and moved. The lust hit her out of nowhere, desire pooling low in her belly.
Her eyes met his, and her breath strangled, because he was looking right at her, looking through her, and that self-consciousness she hadn’t had time for downstairs came rushing back to her.
She was essentially wearing lingerie, but she may as well have been wearing nothing. He’d seen her in nothing, after all.
Heat trailed down her body, setting every place his gaze touched on fire. She walked toward him like she was hypnotized, unable to help herself.
Think about his nerdy love of escape rooms, or his Who-Dinis team name.