"Who the fuck is on the door tonight?" I turned from the wall of security monitors to Paul, my right hand man around the club.
Paul looked down at his clipboard and mumbled out a name. "Jonah."
"Who the fuck is that?"
"New g-"
"Actually, I don't care." I interrupted Paul and pointed at one of the monitors on the wall. "Bring me that girl. If she's 21 or older, John, or whatever you said his fucking name was, can keep his job. If she's not, he's gone."
Paul nodded and made for the office door. It was reinforced steel, like the rest of my office. I had designed this place to be a fortress. In addition to being a legitimate business that I used to launder the profits I made from selling drugs, this club was also my safehouse, hence the wall of surveillance feeds.
I turned back to the wall of monitors. The club was packed to the brim. Most people loved Fridays but not me. They were too busy, too messy, on both fronts. Not only did everyone want to score, they also wanted to dance.
The girl I pointed out to Paul stole my attention. The way she danced was incredible and set her apart from the other sweaty dancers around her on the monitors. As did her body. She flaunted that thing like a veteran stripper. Most women who came to my club wore next to nothing but this woman - no, this girl - wore even less. The longer I stared at her, the more obscene her outfit became.
Her skirt looked like black leather and was as tight and short as a pair of panties. There was nothing over her stomach, nothing until where a bra would normally begin, and even that just looked like a thin white piece of cloth.
I had no idea how or why her parents had let her leave the house dressed like that. This new generation is ridiculous, I thought. When I was young, you were lucky to see a girl with a skirt that ended before her knees. Nowadays, girls showed more skin than they hid!
Onscreen, Paul pushed through the dance floor. He tapped on the girl's shoulder and waited for her to acknowledge him. She never did. I laughed at that. Paul was such a wimp sometimes, straight and clean - that was why I kept him around, he added an air of legitimacy to this place - but a wimp nonetheless.
Paul tapped the girl's shoulder again and then leaned forward to speak into her ear. It looked like a whisper through the lens but must have been a scream in reality. The speakers were so loud out there that you couldn't even hear the person next to you.
The girl's face went from blissful ignorance to frightened insecurity in a second. She stopped dancing and turned to Paul. Her mouth and eyes both shot wide open and her body slouched down like a tear. I would have felt sorry for her if her presence in my club wasn't jeopardising my freedom. I just didn't need cops in here, skulking around, because some little slut couldn't wait until she turned twenty one to drink, dance and choose some guy to fuck her.
She followed Paul off the dancefloor like she was under arrest, head bowed, shoulders slouched, spine slack.
Paul pressed the intercom on the other side of the door. I walked over and unlocked the three locks that protected me from the outside world. Paul stood there, as straight and upright as ever, with a girl that I was now certain wasn't old enough to be in here.
I couldn't see the girl's face - that was parallel with the ground and all I had a view of was the top of her hair - but her body gave her age away. There was no way that anyone out of their teens could have such a tight little stomach or tits that were so perky. Her tits bulged in her thin white shirt like water bombs in a net. She wasn't even wearing a bra, for fucks sake! Her stomach was as flat as a ruler and looked like a runway into her leather skirt. I hadn't been able to notice on the security feed, but she also had a pair of nylon tights on that just seemed to scream: "I'm a woman now! Free to do whatever - and whoever - she chooses!"
And then there was her stance. It was stereotypically teenage. She clasped her hands in front of her and slouched back on one foot like a daughter caught red handed who was now awaiting her father's punishment. Her wrists were as thin as twigs.
"Thought you could sneak into my club, did you?" I made my voice stern. "Thought your leisure was worth more than my alcohol licence? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if an inspector caught you in here? Well, answer me!"
The girl kept her head bowed and started to bawl. Her chest, her shoulders, her face all bobbed up and down with her tears. She shook her head and mumbled: "No."
"Show me your licence." I said.
The girl cried again and then slid a hand down into her skirt and pulled her licence out of it and handed it over. For a moment, I was stunned by the gesture and the warmth of the card. It was almost like it had been left in front of a heater. Just how hot is she down there!?
I quickly regained my composure and looked at the licence. The girl's name was Jenna and she was eighteen. Legal to fuck but not drink.
I looked at Paul standing behind Jenna. "Eighteen. Go send that dumbass on the door home and take his spot for the night."
Paul nodded and disappeared into the crowd behind him. I gave the girl her card back and stepped aside. "Come on, you can wait in here until your parents get here."
Jenna's face finally snapped up to mine. "No sir, please don't tell my parents! I'm sorry. I swear I won't ever come back here again. I'll just go home! Please!"
The girl turned to leave but I put my hands on the door and blocked her way. "I'm sorry but I can't let you go back out there unattended. And I can't just let you walk the streets like that."
"Like what?" The girl asked.
It felt like an accusation and made me feel like a hypocrite. I couldn't deny her alcohol and her adulthood and then turn around and sexualise her. I would have been stunned silent again, as I was when she handed me her licence, but the coke kicked in.
"Do your parents know you're dressed like that?" I nodded at her eighteen year old cleavage and stomach.
Jenna bowed her head again and answered in a meek voice. "No..."
"Come on," I sighed, "I'll order you a rideshare. That way, I know you'll get home safe."
Jenna looked up, smiled and walked past me into my office. I call it an office but it's more of a man cave. In the middle of the room is a big lounge suite and coffee table. Set up around that is a bar, desk, pool table and bathroom - complete with a two person shower.
"Make yourself comfortable." I nodded at the lounge suite in the middle and walked around to get myself a drink from the bar. "You want something to drink?"
Jenna sat down in the middle of the couch and rested her hands in her lap. "Can I have a vodka?" She asked with a sly smile.
I laughed at her confidence. "You can have some lime and soda. No vodka though."
Jenna smiled and looked down at her hands in her lap and then lifted her face back up to mine. "Okay."
I took my beer and Jenna's lime and soda over to the couch. I put her drink down on the coffee table in front of her and went to get my camera from my desk. I stood on the opposite side of the table from Jenna and lined her up in the frame. She hadn't even noticed what I was doing yet. I turned the flash on and waited until she opened her legs - Her black skirt and black tights made it almost impossible to get a good look at her legs.
Jenna was sipping her drink when the flash exploded and looked up, squinting startled and scared. "What are you doing, you fucking creep? You can't just take my photo like that!"