Dave Miller sat in his large leather chair staring at the security camera feed. This particular camera was pointed at a beautiful woman striding towards the front door of his establishment. The feed was a little grainy but there was no doubting it was her.
You couldn't mistake a body like that
, he thought to himself. He had seen her pictures in her online application. He had responded immediately, inviting her in for an audition. He hoped he hadn't seemed to eager.
Fuck me, she is hot as shit. I want her working here. No, I need her working here. She'll make me a fortune. The high-rollers will be falling over themselves to get a piece of her.
He turned away from the screen and lit up his cigar. He had been looking forward to this....
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Lara smoothed her dress and checked her reflection in the mirror of her beat up Volkswagen beetle one last time before getting out and approaching the large front door to The Pearl. The dress was a slinky black number, plunging dangerously low in the back and clinging to her curves in all the right places. She looked good, and she knew it too. But she would need to look good where she was going. The Pearl was the premier lap dancing club in the area and her goal was to fill their vacancy for a dancer. She had applied online several days ago and gotten an immediate invite to audition.
Not a job she had done before nor a career path she would have considered in her youth and yet circumstances had brought her to this moment. She needed the money. She had three different credit cards deep in the red and her dirtbag ex-boyfriend had robbed half her furniture and emptied her bank account when she had ended things.
Asshole,
she thought to herself.
That wasn't to say she was inexperienced in this arena. Far from it, as she had spent over a year as a waitress in a strip club back home called The Pussy Cat. Lara had learned a great deal in that time, from the rowdy behaviour of the patrons to the sisterly bonds and fierce rivalries between the dancers. She had watched and learned from the veterans, absorbing their technique and attitude. They had taught her the art of teasing and tempting, of building desire to a fever pitch before leaving the punters wanting more. Lara had been a fast learner, picking up the tricks and secrets of the trade with an almost uncanny ease.
But despite all this knowledge, Lara couldn't deny a flutter of nerves in her stomach as she reached for the door handle. A lot of that was knowledge and theory. This was the real thing. This was different, a new level of intimacy and expectation. Now, she wouldn't just be serving drinks and making polite conversation. She would be the main attraction, the centre of attention. The sole purpose of her presence would be to entertain, to entice, and if she did her job right, to drive men wild with lust.
Lara took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenge ahead. She knew she had a natural talent for this kind of thing, a knack for pleasing men. She hoped that this coupled with what she had learned at the club back home would stand her in good stead.
As she pushed open the door, stepping into the pulsating heart of The Pearl, Lara squared her shoulders and pasted on a smile.
The first thing she noticed was this was not a cheap place. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail of the lavishly appointed interior. She could hear the thrum of music and the murmur of excited voices, the quality sound system pumping out a pulsing beat that seemed to vibrate in her chest. Plush leather sofas and high-backed chairs were arranged in intimate groupings around the room, their rich, glossy surfaces inviting patrons to sink into their depths and indulge in the hedonistic atmosphere. She spotted more private booths with privacy curtains along the back.
I'll need to spend time in there. Gotta get some money rolling in soon,
she decided.
Lara couldn't help but be impressed by the opulent surroundings, a far cry from the place back home. The lighting was dim and strategically placed, casting a sensual glow over the furnishings and the dancers. Her gaze was drawn to the main stage, a raised platform dominated by a gleaming chrome pole that seemed to reach up into the smoky haze of the club. A stunning blonde with a cascade of curls and a body that would make a Victoria's Secret model weep with envy was currently showcasing her skills, her lithe form snaking sinuously as she spun and writhed around the pole with a sensual grace. Lara watched in admiration. The blonde was very, very good.
Lara continued to make her way through the club, weaving between the tables and sofas. She couldn't help but take stock of her new coworkers. The dance floor was a sea of toned limbs and glossy hair, a varied display of beauty that made Lara feel almost underdressed in her cocktail dress. Everywhere she looked, she saw young and fit dancers. These were no jaded, world-weary professionals. The Pearl seemed to exclusively employ girls at the peak of their physical charms. Lara estimated that not a single dancer appeared to be over thirty. They moved with the eagerness and enthusiasm of new recruits, keen to impress and eager to please.
Lara felt the first twinge of doubt. She had assumed that this job audition would be easy. She was used to being the most beautiful woman in the room. There was no ego in that, it was simply true. She was what some people would call genetically blessed.
Her brunette hair was silky and long. It nicely framed the brown eyes and high cheekbones of her face. Her lips were full and sensual. She had often been crudely told she had "dick-sucking lips", a term she despised but reluctantly admitted was somewhat accurate. Her friends had often griped to her about having to inject-god-knows what into their lips to achieve what she had naturally. Her waist was narrow, her legs long and shapely leading up to the type of rear well suited for her new profession. However it was her chest that that drew the eye more than anything. Her bra measuring at a 32G, her breasts were spectacular. Large and shapely yet firm with a gravity defying quality that was the envy of her peers.
The serendipity of her parents choosing the name "Lara" was something of a cruel joke to her as it was hard to ignore her physical similarity to the gaming character Lara Croft of Tomb Raider fame. It was an unwanted nickname she had endured for most of her life. "Raid any tomb's lately, Lara?" was a jibe she often heard from men thinking their joke was original.
This factor was one reason she intended to use a stage name. Help to avoid the comparison. Another reason being her parents had no clue of her new line of work and she intended to keep it that way. A fake name would help a little with that.
As she kept walking towards the bar, she passed a patron in a seat to her right groaning in pleasure loudly as the voluptuous girl grinding on his lap apparently brought him to completion. Nobody seemed bothered and the security man at the back didn't move a muscle.
Okay, so apparently that is standard procedure here,
she thought. If a patron had behaved like that in the main room back home, he'd be invited to leave. In the private booths, sure, but out on the floor?
This place has a different culture I guess,
she concluded to herself.
Lara reached the bar and waited for her turn. The bar was a long, sleek gleaming peace of wood. It was striking but not as striking as the bartender standing behind it. She stared at him as he dealt with a customer. He was tall and broad chested with a chiselled jawline softened only slightly by a day's worth of stubble. He had a short military style haircut with piercing blue eyes. His arms were massive. Impressively so. Lara couldn't help but pause, her gaze lingering on his rugged features as he worked. He finished with the customer, turned and gave her a dazzling smile.
"What can I get you?" he asked her.
"I'm looking for the owner, Dave Miller." she answered sweetly.
His smile faltered a bit as he appeared to realise she wasn't a customer but a potential employee.
"His office is upstairs to your right. Big, gold plaque with his name on it. Cant miss it," he replied.
Lara followed his gaze to the stairs.
"Thanks," she said. "And you are?"
"Jack," he responded. "I'm head of security. I also fill in for Enrique at the bar when he calls in sick. I fill in for him when he calls in pretending to be sick too," he said smiling. Lara chuckled at the easy joke.
"I'm Lara. Well, gotta go! Hope to see you again!" she replied cheerily as she headed towards the stairs. Lara made a mental note to learn more about the handsome bartender if....when she got the job. It was always good to have a friend in security in a place like this.
She climbed the stairs gracefully and pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into Dave's office. Her gaze fell upon the man who she assumed was Dave. He stepped up from his leather chair and walked out from behind the massive mahogany desk that dominated the room. As he walked towards her, he outstretched his hand. The man looked about 5'10 and in his mid forties, she guessed. He was a little overweight with a beer belly that his choice of suit did little to hide. Hair wise, he was rocking a bit of a skullet. Bald on top with hair on the sides. Lara wondered if fully shaving his head would make him look better or worse. She shook his outstretched hand. It felt unpleasant and clammy but she kept beaming her smile at him.
"I'm here to audition," Lara said, her voice steady and clear, betraying none of the nervousness she felt beneath the weight of Dave's penetrating stare. She stood tall and proud, her back straight, her chest forward, a picture of confident, unshakeable poise. "I believe we exchanged messages the other day?" she asked him.
"Yes, yes of course. Lana, right?"
"Lara," she corrected him.
"Sure, sure. Welcome to my establishment, Lara", he said his arms outstretched as if a king presiding over all before him. "You said you had over a years experience?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes," she lied. A white lie, as far as she was concerned. She knew she could do the job and didn't think he needed to know she had just been a waitress and not an actual dancer.
"Excellent. So, let me make a few things clear about The Pearl and how we operate. Firstly, this ain't no shithole you will have worked at before. This place is high class. We only accept the best. And because of that we get the best of both worlds. I've seen clubs fail because the clientele are thugs and scare away the high rollers. And I've seen clubs price out the middle-class so that only high-rollers can afford to frequent it and you can't survive just on them. High rollers are flighty. You can't rely on them year round so you need the every man to balance the books. The suburban dad looking for a quick thrill. Our prices on the main floor are reasonable, our facilities and amenities are state of the art and we have the best girls. So we get the business of both categories of customers. It's why we are the biggest club around."
