Lara Lap Dances for a Living

Dave fidgeted nervously at his table while he waited for The Russian to arrive. He desperately wanted to light up his cigar in order to calm his nerves but didn't, knowing it would cause a scene.

Can't fucking smoke anywhere any more. Fucking government.

He glanced around the members lounge as he waited. It was practically empty. This suited him fine for this particular meeting. Dave had chosen this location. Meeting at The Pearl was a non starter. His eyes wandered over his watch as he checked the time in irritation. He had arrived too early and was now stewing. Waiting patiently wasn't his strong suit.

He loathed meeting the man known only to him as "The Russian." Dave found him deeply unsettling. From his look, to his mannerisms, to the things he would say. Why the man was called The Russian, Dave had no clue. He didn't speak with a Russian accent. He didn't really speak with much of an accent at all. Dave had no clue where he was from. He had never asked and had no plans to do so.

He looked up from the table as the man he was set to meet had finally arrived. "The Russian" cut a somewhat imposing figure as he walked towards the table Dave was sitting. He was lean and tall, at least 6'3 by Dave's estimation. His charcoal suit was clearly tailored, his white shirt crisp and wrinkle free. He wore a gold watch on his wrist and polished leather shoes on his feet. His face was long, his facial features sharp while his hair was combed neatly. He walked in an upright fashion with his shoulders back. His posture and gait were stiff.

Dave watched as the man slid into the seat opposite him. The Russian gave Dave a long, cold and calculated stare. His demeanour was difficult to read as he rarely emoted. The worst thing though, the thing that really gave Dave the creeps, was that the fucker never blinked. Not once. It made Dave's skin crawl. But business was business. And he had made certain promises.

"I don't like meeting here, Mr. Miller," The Russian said, choosing this as his greeting. Dave fought back the urge to look away and held the man's gaze.

"I like it plenty," Dave said, putting on a confident facade that he hoped was convincing.

"Well? What have you got?" Dave said, getting to the point. Dave knew the man hated small-talk and that was fine with him.

"Eighty four crates. M16's, SCAR-L's and XM7's mostly. Some Glock's and an assortment of optics," The Russian replied, as he stared unblinkingly at his table companion.

"That isn't what we discussed. You said last time that we were winding down. You said less hardware, not more," Dave seethed at the man, his anger at being lied to bubbling below the surface.

"Plans change, Mr. Miller."

"Well maybe mine will change too," Dave said, puffing out his chest.

"You gave certain assurances to my organization. Am I to inform them of your refusal to cooperate?" The Russian asked.

"I didn't say that, did I?" Dave said gruffly. "Where is the pick up?"

"The crates are stored at this address. Storage units 8,9,12 and 13," The Russian slid a piece of paper with instructions on it and also a set of keys across the table.

"You will collect them, and load them into your trucks. Captain Price and his men will accompany you to the Border Patrol Checkpoint where he will ensure the trucks make it through unhindered and undisturbed. You will then deliver them to the address written on the bottom," he said, calmly. Dave nodded, knowing refusal was not a palatable option.

"Your compensation will be deposited via the agreed upon method, upon delivery," The Russian said, with an air of finality. He looked like he was about to simply get up and leave when Dave grabbed his arm to stop him. The Russian looked down at Dave's wrist holding his suit and then back up at Dave, his sharp eyes displaying an eerie quality to them. Dave released him.

"Next time, bring Ricky. I want to talk to Ricky about this arrangement and where it goes from here," Dave said, tripping over his words a little. The Russian just stared back at him for several uncomfortable seconds before replying.

"That will not be possible."

"Why the fuck not?" Dave asked.

"Mr. Garcia is no longer a member of our organization," The Russian replied, coldly. Dave couldn't hide the panic from his face. He knew what that meant. It was clear. Ricky had been Dave's connection and without him, he was in over his head without an obvious pathway to getting clear of this. The Russian stood.

"I suggest you worry less about Mr. Garcia and focus more on what we are paying you to do. Good day, Mr Miller," he said as he walked away, towards the exit. Dave just sat in his chair contemplating how he had let himself get caught up in this.

I should have stayed in my lane. The money isn't worth the stress. This shit is going to get me killed.

------------------------------------------

Detective Mike Hawthorne entered the cafe and scanned the place for his partner. He spotted Jo in the last booth away from the window and headed towards it. He nodded in greeting as he sat down opposite her.

"Well?" the blonde asked, clearly eager to hear some news.

"I tailed him to the airport," Mike answered simply. Jo looked back at him, obviously confused.

"The airport? Why? He never mentioned taking a trip," she said.

"He isn't taking any trip. It's smart. Think about it. It makes it difficult for anybody to follow you. It also makes it nearly impossible for anyone to bring a gun to a meeting," Dave said. She nodded.

"I told you he was smarter than you were giving him credit for," she said pointedly.

"Nobody likes a gloater, Jo," Mike shot back.

"So, who was he meeting?" Jo asked.

"I don't know," he answered with irritation. "I couldn't risk flashing my badge in there. Too many eyes and getting made would be a disaster at this point. I bought a cheap ticket to get through security but he went into some Airport members lounge. They wouldn't let me in without a membership. I waited but he came out alone and he had nothing with him. Then he drove back here," he said, motioning his head towards The Pearl, which was located across the street.

"Any luck with the moving company?" Jo asked.

"They appear to be legit. If it's a front, it's a good one. "Miller's Movers" do actually move a hell of a lot of stuff from what I've seen. Mostly residential homes. Some businesses. Nothing suspicious," he told her. He sighed.

"We're nowhere, Jo. I didn't think it would be this difficult to corner this guy. He seems small-time. But he's too careful for there not to be

something

going on here that we are missing. You've seen Price's men flash the cash. Why is Miller paying Price so much? It can't be just to ignore the club. There has to be more to it," Mike said, clenching his jaw.

"We're not nowhere. The case is building. Give it time. Plus, I've got something new. Somebody's stealing from him," Jo said with a smile. Mike's expression perked up immediately.

"Stealing what?"

"Money," she answered. "A lot of it apparently. Somebody hacked them. They've been dipping into his accounts. Both legit and off-books.

"How did you find out?" he asked, impressed.

"The I.T. guy is sweet on one of the girls. He bragged about it to her. How Dave tasked him with tracking the digital thief down," Jo said, relaying what she had learned from Lenny's conversation with her and Lara.

"Good. Good. We might be able to use that. Keep your ear to the ground. If they track down this thief, I want to know about it. We can get to them first and maybe offer a deal. Plus, if Miller is losing money, it might make him more impatient. More likely to make a mistake," he said, his mind working as he planned ahead.

"Also, I think it's time we tried to turn one of the girls. I'm going to go in tomorrow and wait for one of them to compromise themselves," he said.

"No, Mike. Let me do it. I'm already in there," Jo said. He shook his head.

"You're too valuable where you are, Jo. It's not worth the risk of the girl panicking and running to Miller. He has no idea about you. None of them do. And we need to keep it that way. We won't be able to get anyone else in there. It's not like I can apply for a job," he said. She laughed at him.

"I think you'd do well on the pole, Mike," she said, her eyes giving his body the once over.

"I'd break my neck and look like a fool doing it," he said smiling. "No, you stay low. I'll go in tomorrow and go fishing."

"Don't go in tomorrow. It's our quietest day. You'll be noticed. Wait until we are busy," Jo suggested. He nodded.

"Who do I look for? Which one is the most likely to initiate? To offer extras?" he asked.

"Sarah. For sure. Target her. She'll be offering to fuck you inside five minutes," Jo said, the distaste evident on her face.

"Christ, Jo," he said, a little shocked. "A bit crass, no?"

"It's a crass place, Mike. And you're not the one who has to be in there all day shaking your ass," she said, as she scowled at him. She wasn't wild about his tone.

"You're right. Sorry. You know how much I appreciate what you are doing. You're going above and beyond," he said to her reassuringly. She smiled faintly, accepting his apology. But then her eyes darkened.

"Mike, I'll do whatever it takes to bring Price down. If that fucker gets out with his offshore accounts

and

his pension I just might die."

"We'll get him, Jo. Believe me," he said. "Right. It's a plan. Wait until the place is hopping and then target Sarah. Who is the backup girl? If she isn't available or she doesn't bite for some reason?" he asked. Jo hesitated for a long moment, as if contemplating telling the truth or not. Finally, she answered him.

"Lara. Lara is your next best bet," she said quietly. He nodded.

"Right well, I better get going and you better get back in there," he said, getting up from the table. Jo slid a roll of bills across the table towards him. He frowned as he looked down at the money.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I know how much that fake plane ticket probably set you back when you were tailing Dave. I'm making plenty in there and I'm not even doing that much. Take it, Mike." she said.

"Jo, this isn't procedure. You're supposed to be logging this. We can't be spending proceeds from undercover work," he said sternly.

"Don't be such a boyscout, Mike. I know how much you earn. Or rather how little. And it will make me feel better if some of this flesh money goes to you," she said, staring up at him. Mike hesitated. He didn't want to take it but equally didn't want to offend his partner.

"Tell you what. Hold on to it for me. When this is all over and Price is doing a long stretch, we'll use it to celebrate," he said, smiling down at her. She grinned back.

"Deal."

--------------------------------

Lara was seated comfortably with her phone in her hand in The Pearl's large dancer changing room. A lot of the girls took their breaks at the bar, doing some socializing and light drinking. The issue with this was that customers tended to approach them. For some of the girls, this was welcome. But if you needed some time away from the grind, the spacious and comfortable changing room was a solid alternative. It was off-limits to everyone but the dancers and security.

Lara was scrolling through her phone as she waited for Sarah to arrive. Lara had agreed to join Sarah with one of Sarah's regulars as part of a deal she had made. Lara's brother had arrived at The Pearl and Lara had practically begged Sarah to take her place in the VIP with him. This was the bill coming due. It was not ideal, as Lara didn't relish spending any time with the red-head but she would have agreed to virtually anything to leave the VIP and escape her ordeal with Shawn.

She had been avoiding Shawn, for obvious reasons. But after some time she realized this wasn't a sustainable plan. She couldn't exactly avoid him for the rest of her life. He was still her brother. And recent events had changed her view on the situation.

During Lara's explosive and revealing talk with Alan, she had come to the conclusion that she needed to put the blame where it belonged. It belonged at the feet of Will and Rob. Alan wasn't ultimately responsible for what had happened. And the following morning, she had realized the same was true of Shawn and their situation.

Shawn hadn't known it was Lara in front of him. She had worn a mask. He had assumed it was just some random stripper. He still did. She couldn't hold him responsible for her own choice to work here, and not tell her family. That was her decision and she needed to take ownership of it. As uncomfortable, and frankly traumatizing as the encounter had been for Lara, Shawn wasn't to blame. It had been a freak of circumstance and seeing as he was now banned from the club, one that was unlikely to repeat itself.

So she had done the mature thing and decided she needed to move past it. She had met up with him this morning. They had talked at length about how he was dealing with his injury and the loss of his career. Properly talked. And he had finally broken down and admitted how he really felt. That the universe had conspired against him. That he had lost the thing he loved doing the most and both Lara and their parents just wanted him to "get over it and move on." He had confided in her that he had spent tens of thousands on drugs, strippers and hookers. The first two she knew about already. Lara reminded him that it didn't matter what anyone else wanted him to do. He had to live his own life and he was responsible for the decisions he made.

The talk had done him the world of good. He recognised that he had to stop blaming everyone, including himself. He had promised to stop his self destructive behaviour. They had hugged it out and Lara was relieved that the brother she knew was still in there. They had left on good terms. In fact, he had just texted her to say that he had a date tomorrow with a girl he had met. It was a good sign. Lara was just about to text him back wishing him luck and ask what the girl was like when Sarah walked into the room.

"Ah, you're in here. Our guys have arrived. They are in the VIP waiting for us. Get your ass in gear. We need to go," she said to Lara.

Lara wasn't thrilled with the tone, almost like Sarah was commanding or bossing her around but she let it go. She had signed up for this and she knew that Sarah would probably be difficult. Lara just had to take it this time. She put her phone away and followed Sarah out of the room. They walked together towards the VIP.

"So this regular of yours. What's his name?" Lara asked as they walked.

"Chad," Sarah answered.

Seriously? Chad?

Lara ignored the low hanging fruit and just asked, "Okay. Anything I should know?"

"Nothing specific. He's a personal trainer and has the body to prove it. And he is a good spender. He brought his father with him today as a treat for his birthday. So you're taking him. I want this guy to keep coming back, so don't fuck this up for me, Lara," Sarah said, condescendingly. Lara bit her tongue, choosing not to respond.

She is looking for a response. Don't engage with her. Let her enjoy the moment and be the bigger woman.

"Don't worry Sarah, I'm sure the old man will love me," Lara said, reassuring her.

"Just don't make him finish too quickly. It'll make it awkward for me and Chad," Sarah said. Lara grinded her teeth.

"I know how to do this, Sarah," Lara said back, struggling to keep her cool.

"We'll soon see, won't we?" Sarah said as they reached the door to the VIP and opened it.

They walked through and the door swung closed behind them. The pair of beauties walked towards the two men sitting there, one man on each couch. Lara looked to the man on the right. He was young, probably around her age or perhaps a couple of years older. Sarah had been right, he was a good looking guy. His smug expression was an immediate turn off however.

I can see why Sarah likes him. Two peas in a pod.

Sarah spoke up first.

"Hey guys. Chad, why don't you introduce us to the silver fox over there?" she said smoothly.

"Uh yeah, sure. Ladies, this my dad, Brian," Chad said, gesturing to his father. "It's his birthday so, I want you to be extra nice to him."

"Sure thing, sweetie," Sarah replied. The other gentleman looked a little embarrassed. And very nervous. As she arrived in front of him, Lara gave him a better look. As she glanced over him, the man sitting before her made her do a double take. She knew him. Sitting in front of her was none other than her high school American history teacher, Mr. Fitch.

Lara had told Jo previously how he had been her biggest crush. How she had tried desperately to get with him and that he had turned her down, for moral reasons citing her age and his position making it inappropriate. That had been over four years ago now but he looked just as good to Lara. She had described him to Jo as a sort of Californian Pierce Brosnan and the extra few years had done nothing but reinforce that opinion in Lara's mind. He was just as handsome. Perhaps even more so with the added grey running through his hair giving him a distinguished look.

This all flashed through her mind as she stood before him, no longer a student but a professional lap dancer in revealing lingerie. Lara looked down at him, completely at a loss at what to do. Should she leave? Should she say something? Say nothing at all? As Lara's mind ran through her options, Brian Fitch just stared at her, giving her an odd look.

He doesn't recognise me. Or at least he's not sure where he knows me from.

Lara wasn't sure whether to feel relief or to take offence.

How could he not recognise me?

"Well, as you can see I've brought a friend to join us today. To make everything a little more fun. Boys, this is Lara," Sarah said to the two men.

Suddenly his eyes went as wide as saucers and his mouth dropped open in shock.

It can't be,

he thought to himself.

Lara??

Realization hit him like a train as he finally comprehended that the woman standing before him was his former student.

Well, now he knows,

Lara thought ruefully. The pair stared at each other, neither sure of what to say. Suddenly, he turned towards his son and started to speak.

"Uh Chad, I'm not feeling great. I'm going to sit this one out. You...uh...have fun and I'll see you outside," he said, starting to get up. Chad looked over and started shaking his head.

"Come on dad, we talked about this. You aren't doing anything wrong. You're divorced. Mom doesn't control you any more. And besides, these girls are professionals. And I've already paid," he said with a frown.

"Really, son, I appreciate the effort you've made but..." Brian said, but Chad cut him off,

"You're staying. Try to have some fun for fuck's sake," Chad said, gruffly. Brian Fitch looked from his son and back to Lara and then nodded as he sat back down.

With that, Sarah pressed a button on the table console and the low thrum of some R&B track started to play. She leaned forward and started to dance for Chad, moving her body in front of him. She gave Lara a quick glare, clearly wondering why the brunette was just standing there.

Lara's mind had been racing. Figuring things out. She instantly knew that she didn't want Sarah knowing that this was her former teacher. Sarah would revel in it. She would, quite literally, pump Chad for all the information she could about Lara. Chad didn't know her but he could figure it out if given the opportunity. And if he did, he'd spill the beans. Her school, where she was from, her family. Lara's entire history basically. All things she had absolutely no desire to share with the busty redhead. It was information Sarah could easily spread or potentially use against her.