There were several other separate seating areas, and toward the back I saw a small set of stairs blocked off by a velvet rope, which I assumed was the VIP area. I also assumed there were private rooms somewhere beyond the stage. It was clear a lot of thought had gone into the arrangement, allowing for some privacy without sacrificing the safety of the girls. Even without anybody present, I had a feeling the dancers were always visible to security in one way or another.
I was pulled out of my admiration when a woman with dark hair and flawless makeup approached me. She stood just an inch or two taller than I was and wore tight dark jeans with a simple yet flattering black blouse under a jacket. “Are you April?”
I smiled and extended my hand. “Yes, I am. You must be Marlene.”
She didn’t smile back. While her demeanor wasn’t exactly cold, it wasn’t welcoming, either. Her handshake was brief as she jerked her head toward one of the tables. “Let’s have a seat and talk.”
This doesn’t seem promising, I thought to myself, trying to remain calm and collected on the outside.
Blowing the job interview was not an option. The future of my entire reporting career depended on me getting the job, and I would do everything in my power to make that happen. As we sat at the table, Marlene picked up an iPad that had been sitting there.
“So, you’ve done waitressing before?” she asked, reading over my application.
“Yes. I started when I was in high school and have done it several more times throughout my adult life. I have plenty of customer service experience and have dealt with every kind of customer imaginable.”
“Even drunken handsy ones?”
“Especially drunk and handsy ones.”
That seemed to amuse her. Marlene chuckled and gave me a soft smile. “That’s good. Not that that’s exclusively our clientele, but you may run across a few. Why here, though? You could get a waitressing job anywhere else. Why choose Sinner’s Lounge?”
“I thought it would be a great experience. I’ve come here on my own a couple times before and really liked the atmosphere. It seems like a fun place to work.”
Marlene raised an eyebrow at me, and I suddenly had the feeling I’d said something wrong. “Really? The atmosphere?”
I found myself hesitating. “Y-Yes.”
“April, this isn’t a cute little gimmicky restaurant with shiny décor. It’s dark and has sex appeal written all over it, with naked women dancing on stage for money. Sure, the atmosphere is great for some, but you’ve got to have the stomach for it. You have to have a certain attitude and strength to work here. Many of our customers are drunk, turned on, and entitled. It doesn’t matter if you’re on or off stage. If you’re applying for this job just because you think it’ll be a ‘unique experience,’ then it’s probably not the right fit.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
Shit. I could tell the interview was going downhill fast. “I only meant that I could see myself working here,” I backtracked. “I know it’ll be a challenge, but I’m more than up to the task.”
Marlene didn’t seem convinced. I waited with bated breath as she looked me over once more. But when she started to stand and said, “We’ll let you know,” I knew I had to think fast.
“Wait! I can also dance. I’ve had experience on stage.”
At that, Marlene froze, her eyebrow cocked. “Really? You have experience stripping.” It wasn’t a question.
No. No, I didn’t. Not even a little.
“Yes, I do,” I lied. “It’s not much, which is why I didn’t put it on my resume. But I did do some dancing in my early twenties,” I lied again.
I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not. Her expression was impressively passive. When she sat back down, I had to stop myself from sighing with relief.
“Are you clean?”
I blinked a few times, thrown off by her question. “Am I what?”
“Are you clean? It’s not a hard question.”
“Yeah, I’m clean. I don’t do drugs, never have. I mean, I drink, but who doesn’t?”
“We don’t need inexperienced virgins here.”
“Well, I am a virgin, but not inexperienced.” I couldn’t believe I just said that out loud, but there it was. Ugh.
Marlene’s perfect eyebrows shot up and almost disappeared into her hairline. “Is that so? Not to be rude, but that’s really none of my business. What you girls do and don’t do in your private time is up to you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s true. It’s not something I share with everybody for obvious reasons, but I’m not ashamed of it.”
Marlene chuckled. “Well…you’re probably the only one here.” She seemed pensive. “You say you’re a virgin, but you’ve also danced before?”
“Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I can’t be sexy or that I don’t have any experience.”
“True,” she said with a nod. “That’s fair.”
Marlene gave me a once-over, leaned back in her chair, drumming her long nails on the table. After a few long seconds of silence, she said, “All right, let’s give it a try.”
Let’s hope she’s only talking about being a waitress. First, I blurt out I’m a virgin, then I tell her I can dance? God, I hope I never have to dance.
“Great! Thank you so much. I can’t wait to get started!”
“Good, because we’re swamped tonight, and I’m going to need you to start training ASAP.” Marlene picked up her tablet and rose to her feet. “Come with me to my office, and we’ll get your paperwork all filled out.”
“Perfect.”
I followed her into the back room, unable to stop myself from grinning. As soon as we went through the door, we heard chatter coming from down the hall. Marlene headed in that direction, and eventually we came to a large dressing room.
At least five or six women were removing their coats as if they had just arrived. I thought we would keep going, but Marlene brought me into the room.
“Hey, girls. This is April,” she said. “April, these are some of the girls.”
“Another dancer?” one woman asked with a bit of a sneer. “Do we really need one?” She was tall and slender, with large boobs and blonde curls that bounced when she moved.
Before I could respond, Marlene spoke up. “Bella, chill. She’s not a dancer. She’s a waitress.”
“Good. She doesn’t seem like the dancer type, anyway.”
That made me raise my eyebrows, and I turned to this Bella chick. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She seemed taken aback that I’d responded but didn’t miss a beat in answering my question. “I just meant that you don’t look like the typical dancer.”
“And how does the typical dancer look exactly?” I was genuinely curious at her answer.
The half a dozen women I saw had various skin tones, features, and hair types. No two of them looked the same. Even their body types were different. Sure, most of them were slender, but one or two had curves like me.
“You’re not a dancer—you wouldn’t understand,” Bella said, raising her long, glittered eyelashes and turning her nose up at me.