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.”