2.5 cont

[hopeorfaith.livejournal.com]

Much later the same night

Cut to The Grindhouse, a brand new high class strip club which is run by none other than Tony 'Ares' Marks! It's a plush operation with a Roman theme - think colonnades and reclining beauties. No press, no photos and no touching the girls. One night a week there is a boy dancer night.

"Welcom to the Grindhouse; can I interest you in a private dance?" says a bloody gorgeous girl wearin' somethin' like a very short toga.

"You could," I grin, "but I'm 'ere to see Mr Marks."

"Oh," she says, droppin' the beamin' smile an' fluttery eyelashes. "His office is back there." An' she goes off to talk to more promisin' customers.

I look around. This place ain't 'alf bad. Been in a few stripclubs in me life, an' back in London I even danced in one fer a bit. But a lot of 'em are bloody seedy. This place, though, 'as bin gettin' good reviews, an' the girls are meant to be paid a shitload. Plus they 'ave blokes strippin' off once a week. I appreciate a place that'll do that. So I've come t'see if they're 'irin'. I ain't givin' up me job at the Diabolique, but I ain't 'ad as many shifts there lately an' I reckon I could do a couple of nights 'ere a week, make a bit of extra cash. I pull down me blouse to show off a bit more cleavage, an' I check me gladiator sandals are on straight - they seemed appropriate, given the theme - an' go on back to the office with the right nameplate an' knock on the door.