Audition Night 1

Author's Note: Like all my stories, this is fantasy, and all characters are age 18 or older. Please rate and comment. I love hearing from you.

Something new. I added an alternate ending. Please comment and tell me how you would proceed IF there were to be more stories in this series, or if you believe this should be a one-pump chump.

* * * * *

Another bill hit the floor. I glanced at it quickly.

Wow. Another twenty

, I thought. I promptly looked into the eyes of the benefactor, smiled, pushed my naked pussy closer to his face, and ran my fingers over my slit. He moved his face closer to my mound, which earned him an eyebrow raise and a finger wag.

"No, sir," I scolded with a smile. "I'm just for show, honey." He laughed and high-fived his friends.

I gave him a few extra minutes as he pulled three more twenties out and tossed them toward me. He'd already thrown three others. In three minutes, this dumb-fuck redneck added one hundred forty dollars to the

DAISY IMPROVEMENT FUND

. He also thought he had a legitimate chance of dipping his wick in my wares. No fuckin way, asshole!

The life of an exotic dancer -- or stripper. I don't give a flying fuck what you call me. Just toss the Benjies on the stage, and I'll let you get up close and personal with my goodies. My goodies are worth every fuckin dollar. I've danced at several clubs and have been the featured dancer at each one. I was raised around my mom and dad's strip club. My body is tight, my smile is deadly, but mostly, I'm sexy as fuck, and I know it.

I know how to read the men -- and women -- who frequent these joints. I've watched other women succeed and fail since I was twelve. I've always known I'd be on the stage making a boatload of money and never giving these degenerate pricks what they really want; a piece of me. They only get the show.

My daddy taught me early to take care of myself physically, mentally, spiritually, and financially. I make around twenty-five hundred bucks a night on average, but I've made over twenty-five grand many times. I've been smart with my money. I have some socked away and have been wise with investments. I figure I can retire and live off my investments by the time I'm thirty. But why would I?

The lifestyle is one I'm accustomed to. Sleep during the day. Work at night. Fuck whomever I choose whenever I choose. The sex is great. I love men and women, and there's always someone ready and willing.

* * * * *

I grew up on the mean streets of Las Vegas. Tourists know nothing about the day version of Las Vegas. Even locals haven't a clue unless they've lived it. They only see the glitter and gold, flashing lights, money clanging in the slots. The seedy underbelly of Las Vegas is as rotten as any other city -- it may be worse. Las Vegas is the "City of Lights," so the vagrancy and debauchery go unnoticed when the sun shines.

I left Las Vegas soon after I graduated high school, much to my parents' chagrin. They knew I was a cash bonanza in waiting. When I became legal to strip, I danced in dad's club for a few months to make enough money to get the hell out of Dodge. I wanted to go to college out of state and get a degree. I chose Dallas and the University of Texas at Arlington, or UTA.

Texas laws allow those eighteen and older to be a stripper. I worked hard and, in only three years, earned a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration. I financed my education on the stage. I worked in clubs a good distance from campus so the boys at school wouldn't distract my focus from my goals.

With the BS in the rearview, I set my sights on a Master's Degree. Three years later, I completed the Finance and International Banking program. I was twenty-four years old, had the world by the balls, and was sitting on top of the world with tall stacks in the bank -- and bouncing on all the cocks I wanted.

As independent as I've become, I still talk to mom and dad regularly. Mom and I shoot the breeze and talk about girl stuff. Dad always talks shop, bounces business ideas off me, and tells me my spot on the stage is still waiting if I ever come home. I always tell him I'm done with Vegas and to give that spot to someone else.

So why am I sitting on this fuckin plane with a one-way ticket home?

* * * * *

About a year after earning my master's degree, I was loafing at the apartment with my roommates. It was Monday and we'd all decided to take the night off and see a movie together. I lived with three other sexy ladies, and we all worked at the same club.

Around five o'clock, my dad called. I felt a tremor of fear when his name popped on the ID. He never calls me.

"Daddy? What's wrong," I answered. "Is everything okay?"

Dad's voice was calm and assuring. "I'm sorry, honey," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? Where's mom. Is she okay?" I asked, still feeling panicked.

"Relax, baby girl. Everything is good. I promise."

"So why are you calling me?"

He chuckled, which put me at ease. "Can't a dad call his little girl?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," I mused, "but you never do."

"I guess I should fix that."

"I guess you should," I quipped. "So, what's up,

DAD

?" I asked, finally convinced that nobody was dead or in the hospital.

"Well, sweetie, I guess I'll get to it. I have a business proposal for you."

"Business proposal?"

"Yes. Is this a good time to talk?"

"As good as any, I suppose. Gotta leave in fifteen, twenty minutes. Shoot."

He hesitated then started talking with that high cadence when one thinks they're about to ask a question, but they're not going like the answer. I was already skeptical.

"Your mom and I have been talking. We're getting old, ya know," he said.

"Yeah, y'all are ancient," I laughed, rolled my eyes, and shook my head at the same time. I can multitask the teenage attitude. He probably heard the eye roll.

"Yeah, thanks for that," he whined. Yup, he heard. "Well, Honey, we're moving into our mid-forties and we'd like to do a bit of traveling and have some fun before we're too old to enjoy it. We'd like you to come home and take over the club ... at least manage it for a few years and see if it's something you'd like to do."

"Woah," I choked. "Wait. You want me to take over the club?"

"Well, honey, yeah," he replied, sounding shocked that I was surprised. "We always figured you'd be perfect for the job. You were practically raised in the club and you've been dancing since you left. You're practically running the clubs there in Dallas. You've worked nearly every aspect of the business. You're the perfect choice."

"Wait.

RUN THE CLUB?

"

"This ain't the first time we've talked to you about it."

"No, and this probably won't be the last time I say no, apparently."

"All I ask is an open mind, Daiz."

I sat silent for a bit as I tried to soak in his offer. Neither mom nor he had ever discussed the option of me taking over the club, per se. It usually was an offer to dance and have some management responsibilities. His vocalizing an offer to run the club was a shock.

"Honey?" I heard him say. "You still there, Daiz?"

"Oh, um, uh, yeah dad, I'm still here," I mumbled. "I'm just shocked with this. You've never said anything about this to me before. I have a life here in Dallas. I love it here. You want me to come back to filthy Las Vegas and take over your club?"

"I know this is a lot, sweetie," he said. "Tell ya what. You give it a swirl around your noggin, rattle it around in your head, take your time, and call me and mom in a few days. We're in no hurry."

Again, I sat silent and weighed my options. I didn't need to think about the offer. I had to figure out the logistics.

"Daaaaaisy," I heard him sing. "You still with me?"

I laughed as I snapped to attention. "GOD! YOU'RE SO ANNOYING, DADDY!" I joked -- I didn't joke. "I don't have to think about it, daddy. I'm in. Running the club, right? Not just a dance?"

"Yes, honey, running the club," he answered.

"Okay. When do you want me out there?"

"Wow. Slow down, Turbo," he chided. He always called me Turbo when my ambitions were overwhelming my reality. "I don't want you to think I'm pressuring you into this."

"Shut up, daddy," I said. I'm sure he heard my grimace. "You're such a nerf. When have I ever let you pressure me into something?"

"Good point. Okay, sweetie. And don't pull that face on me. You're not a teenager anymore," he answered with a chuckle. "But are you sure?"

"

DaaaAAD

," I said with all the angst of a teenage girl, "of course I'm sure." I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"I heard that eye roll too," he laughed.

"Did you hear my head shaking, dumb ass?"

"I can hear the rocks rattling now," he laughed. "And who you calling 'ass'?"

"YOU!" I answered. We both laughed. "So, when do you want me out there?" I asked again.

"Would a month be too soon?"

Three weeks later, I was sitting on the plane wondering why I didn't ask for two months. I didn't realize how deeply my entire life was tied up in Texas. It was difficult saying goodbye knowing I may not come back for a long time. I also realized that prolonging the move would've been torture.

* * * * *

The wheels touched down at McCarren Int'l. I marveled that the once small airport was now a big city airport. Las Vegas had grown up.

The walk from the gate to passenger pick-up seemed like miles. As I crossed over the pedestrian bridge to the parking garage, I could see dad waiting for me.

"Hi daddy," I cried out when I got closer.

He hadn't spotted me until then. His smile grew a mile wide.

"Hiya Punkin," he said as he walked briskly to me.

I dropped my bags as we met in a tight, affectionate embrace. He kissed my cheek and held me close.

"I missed my baby," he said, lifting me and twirling me around.

"I missed you and mommy," I replied as he twirled me around. Dad has always made me feel special. "Where is she?" I asked, looking in the car.

He stopped twirling and put me back on solid ground.

"She had some permits to take care of. We'll meet her at home."

"Oh. Okay."

It wasn't okay. I was hurt, but I knew she wouldn't miss meeting me if it wasn't necessary.

"You excited to be home?" he prodded. "Just a little?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm excited to see you and mom. Is that good enough?"

"I guess it'll have to do."

Leaving the airport was another adventure in discovery. When I left Vegas six years ago, everything around the airport was under construction. Flying home, I'd been looking forward to driving past UNLV and the Thomas and Mack Center. I have fond memories of UNLV, Thomas and Mack, and a bunch of long-dicked black basketball players in a showdown with four eighteen-year-old high school cheerleaders. I get a tingle in my loins just seeing the place.

I was disappointed as dad took a path that led us in the opposite direction, through an underground tunnel, and met up with a freeway extension under construction when I left. Soon we were cruising west on I-215 out into the suburbs. Typically a thirty-minute drive, with traffic, it took nearly an hour to arrive in the Summerlin area and into the driveway of a home I'd never seen before. Or should I say mansion?

"Holy shit, daddy," I said in awe. "This is the home you bought?"

"Be it ever so humble," he replied, much less than humbly.

"Humble, my ass," I said as I stepped out of the car. "The club must be doing great."

"We're managing," he grinned with even less humility as he pulled my bags from the trunk. He walked over to me. "Wanna see the inside or stand out here and bake in the sun?"

It was almost May in Las Vegas, so the temperatures were already over a hundred degrees in the middle of the day. In the shade. It's a dry heat, but it's still too fuckin hot. I suddenly realized how much I hated the heat.

"I hope you have air conditioning."

"That we do," he replied. "And a nice, cool swimming pool. Come on."

I followed him to the door. He sat a bag down, punched a code into the panel by the door. I heard the buzzing of the deadbolt retracting, then he pushed the door open.

"MOM!" I cried. She was waiting on the other side.

"There's my little peanut," she smiled and met me with a beautiful hug. She pushed me to arm's length, never letting go of my shoulders. "Let me look at you. You're too skinny, hon. You need to eat more."

I rolled my eyes.

"How about that," dad said. "I got the same eye roll at the airport." I shot him a murder glance. "And looky there. Another one."

"Mom, I'm fine," I said as she finished her inspection and pulled me in for more hugs.

"You will be after I get some real food past those lips, and in your gullet."

* * * * *

The next few days were spent at home relaxing and growing accustomed to my parents and their new way of living. The mansion is challenging for me -- if one can call this mansion a home. It's not a home. It's four walls with a few people existing inside. It's going to take some time for me to adjust.

My parents aren't

mansion dwellers

. They're home folk -- regular people. I noticed the only lifestyle change is they now have people to clean and trim what little bit of yard there is. But mom and dad are different -- in their attitudes -- like they think they're better now or something.

Being on the ritzy side of Las Vegas, all the neighbors must prove how

woke

they are by having

green landscaping,

which is anything but green. I guess that's the point. No water equals no grass or shrubbery -- just gravel and cactus plants. An occasional tree, but it must be of the low water variety.

It seems odd that in the six years I've spent away, as much as I've kept in close contact with mom and dad, there are still so many new things to talk about. Every time I brought up the club or wanted to see what was new and different, dad would scoff and tell me there was plenty of time for shop talk. I was anxious to get to work. Daddy wasn't. Waiting for my car to be shipped in was hard. I felt like a prisoner.

In the middle of the third day, we finally found ourselves at the club -- in the middle of the week. There were very few people and dancers. I recognized Bambi but no one else. Those I met seemed to take an instant dislike to me. I guess that's the price of being the owners' offspring and word spreading that the

chosen one

was returning. I heard some of the mumblings.

Dad and mom introduced me to a few of the employees then took me back into the office. We spent the day talking about what was expected of me for the next several weeks as I prepared to become boss. I would learn quickly that I didn't know as much as I thought I did about strip club management. The day-to-day operation was a tiny part of the job. The intricate and most important job -- as dad saw it -- was the politics. To quote a phrase, "It's not who you know. It's who you blow." Political knobs had to be polished -- if you catch my meaning.

The first point of order was to plan for the big announcement. The summer's biggest weekend is the Fourth of July, but the announcement would happen on a private night. We couldn't close to the public on a holiday. July third was the date we settled on. Once the date was fixed, dad turned the planning over to mom, and we never heard anything about it again. Mom is a force.

With that settled, the real training began. Dad picked up the TV remote and punched a few buttons. I was shocked when a panel opened, revealing a well-hidden safe behind a bookcase. I grew up in this building and had no idea that a secret safe existed.

"How long has that been there?" I asked, mouth agape.

"I put it in several years ago when the politicians and celebrities discovered us."

"Why?" I asked. "Whatcha hidin?"

"Daiz, this is going to be the hardest part of running the club," he said as he started pulling ledgers out of the safe. "You and I are gonna lock ourselves in this office for the next three to four weeks while I teach you about these." He dropped a stack of ledgers on the desk with a thud.

"Are you keeping a double set of books, daddy?" I asked suspiciously.

"Something like that, but no, our finances are legitimate. We don't do money laundering, drugs, or any other illegal activities when it comes to the club. We do random drug tests on all employees and have a no tolerance policy."

"So, what are these?" I asked, picking up one of the ledgers.

He placed his hand on the cover, keeping me from opening it. "Go ahead. Open it up ... but before you do, realize that aside from your mother and myself, no one has seen, or even knows of the existence of these. If these are ever discovered by an outside entity, this club, and perhaps our lives, could be in jeopardy." He held the ledger closed and held my eyes to drive his point home. "Don't open them if you have any doubts about running this joint, and what must be done."

I felt my heart rate quicken, and my palms become sweaty. I broke eye contact, looked at the ledger in front of me, then back up to daddy.

"What's in here?" I asked.

"You think you're ready to know?"

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"I am."

He removed his hand.

I opened the ledger and started to read. The first entry was beyond fascinating and shocking. I read a few sentences to get a gist of the info, then quickly turned page after page to more intriguing and surprising revelations. After skimming several pages, I closed it and picked up the second ledger -- more of the same.

"Dad? This is ..." my voice trailed off as I looked into dad's eyes.

He simply nodded.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"This is what I'm going to be teaching you over the next few weeks, honey," he said quietly. "This is our lifeblood."

"Dad? This is ... blackmail material." I couldn't believe I just said that out loud.

"Yes. It is," he nodded.

"Why would you need this for the lifeblood of the club?"

"Let's save that question for later," he replied. "I know curiosity is going to get the better of you. Let me say that most, if not all of the people in our ledgers probably have ledgers with your mother's and my name in them. It's a form of mutual destruction to keep any of us from ratting out the others. Do you understand?"

I didn't fully understand, but I nodded. I wondered what illegal activities my parents were participating in that these ledgers were needed. I looked again at a few pages and realized how detailed the information was on each person listed. I recognized these names: politicians, celebrities, local and national: bribes, extortion, dirty deeds, sexual misconduct. I was shocked.

"Daddy, what have you and mom done?" I asked.

"You'll learn it all in time, Honey. I'm not going to hold anything back," he answered. "Your questions will be answered. We have a lot to go over. For right now, understand that your mother and I, with those people, voluntarily put ourselves in the books. The things they've done in the club guarantee the invitations to the private parties continue to show up in their mail."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Well, if they're not willing to participate, they don't get recorded in the ledgers, and they're only invited once. At their first party, they only stay until they have an opportunity to participate. If they participate, they go into the ledger and become registered for more parties. If they turn down the offer, they're escorted out the back door and don't get another invitation unless they show up with a registered friend. They get one more chance to become registered.

"As for your mother and me, you need to understand that we're not monogamous. We have and open relationship and enjoy our sexual lives. For us to be trusted by the party patrons, we've both had sex with dancers and some of the VIPs and their spouses. At the last party, your mom had a lesbian threesome with two dancers on stage for the pleasure of Senator Moss. When she finished, I joined them onstage and ... I fucked your mom while the dancers participated. Previous parties have been even more wild."