This chapter can obviously be read as a stand-alone experience but I highly encourage readers to read at least the previous chapter to get a feel of who Lara is and why she is in her current predicament. We're starting to get to the stage in the series where plot lines will be continuing between chapters so keep this in mind going forward.
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"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?!" Dave screamed at the woman sitting in front of him.
Dave Miller, proud owner of the lap dancing club known as The Pearl, could be seen in the middle of his office pacing back and forth in an animated fashion. Clearly agitated, he stopped pacing to resume his shouting.
"I mean for FUCK'S SAKE Lara. You broke his god damned nose! What the hell were you thinking?" he said with irritation evident all over his face.
Lara was sitting with her hands clasped placidly in her lap, as she listened to Dave chew her out.
"I was thinking that considering that he..." she started to say before Dave cut across her.
"It was a rhetorical question, Lara," he said, his voice now lower and dangerous. His eyes shot daggers at her for a moment longer before softening his expression somewhat and letting out a deep sigh.
"Why did you do it?" he asked, his manner now calming slightly. Lara didn't answer straight away and just continued to sit there. Eventually, she spoke up.
"Is this question rhetorical too or do you want me to answer?" she said, not being able to hide the sass in her tone. He glared at her again before answering.
"Yes, I want you to answer," he said gruffly.
"He stuck his fingers inside me, Dave," she said, her voice rising as she said it.
"So what? It's just a little fingering! Big fucking deal!" he said matter of factly.
"I warned him. No means no," she replied back firmly, the demure look on her face now replaced with one of steely determination. Dave waved her comment away dismissively as if the term "no" was an alien concept to him. His pacing had slowed a little and he was visibly calming down the longer the conversation went on. He turned back to the beautiful brunette sitting in front of him.
"Lara, customers push their luck all the time. You know this already! You can't just go around beating them up. We have security. Why didn't you just call out for them? Jack or one of the other guys would have been there in a flash and thrown the idiot out," he uttered in exasperation.
Lara couldn't argue with that. He was right. She could've called for security. It wasn't that uncommon. But she hadn't. Why?
No means no.
The phrase kept creeping through her mind
.
If she was honest with herself, the reason wasn't exactly a mystery.
The pool party.
She had been badly affected by it. She had taken the following two days off while she recovered. Physically she had been bruised and sore and her pussy had ached for over a day. But it was the mental aspect that had lingered longer. Not being able to remember large chunks of time was a new experience for her, one she did not enjoy at all. It had dominated her thoughts for days.
It had been nearly a week since the party and she still couldn't remember most of the night. She had started seeing flashes of memories during her dreams but was still trying to piece the night together. She remembered arriving there with Lenny. She remembered talking with Alan, Rob and Will. She remembered downing some tequila. She vaguely remembered dancing. Maybe. She wasn't sure with who. And the image of a giant cock kept showing up. She wasn't sure if that last part was real or just imagined but the image wouldn't go away.
The one thing Lara knew for certain was that at some point she had experienced some sex. Some rough sex. She was guessing with Will. Or perhaps Rob.
Or both,
she thought with a revolting shudder. But ultimately she couldn't be sure. It could have been somebody else entirely. She couldn't go around accusing people without knowing for sure. Having thought about it some more she was now fairly positive it hadn't
just
been the tequila. She had gotten blackout drunk on tequila before. No, this was something different. Someone had dosed her with something. Slipped something into her drink when she wasn't looking. What, if anything she was going to do about the whole incident was still up in the air.
She had hoped returning to work, returning to normalcy would help get her mind off the entire event. It hadn't really worked that well. Lara had to admit that she hadn't been at her best lately. She had been phoning it in a little. Dancing distractedly and not in her usual attentive style. Throughout today she had kept thinking about the party, the frustration of not remembering festering in her. Making her more and more angry. It had culminated an hour ago when that creep she had been giving a lap dance to had jammed his fingers into her. She had snapped and punched him squarely in the face. His nose had practically exploded and there had been blood all over the couch and his clothes. The man had been furious, threatening all sorts.
All this and more went through Lara's mind as Dave waited for her to answer. When she didn't, he continued, his volume and tone softer now.
"Look, Lara. You know I like you. How could I not? You're fucking gorgeous and you do your job well. Or at least you did. That was the girl I hired but she has been nowhere to be seen lately. You no-showed Monday. You call in sick on Tuesday and then you were late on Wednesday. Your dances per shifts are down and so are your takings. And today you punch out a customer. Lara, he says he is pressing charges. That he's going to sue the club. Do you have any idea the headache this causes me?" Dave asked her, his arms starting to gesticulate about dramatically. Lara simply shook her head at him.
"I'm going to have to go begging Captain Price to deal with it. Make sure no formal charges are brought. And if he does sue, I'll have to pay for a lawyer. You know how much those fuckers cost these days? You're worth a lot to this club Lara, but not lawyer money, do you understand?"
"Sorry," she said in a conciliatory voice. "It won't happen again."
"It had better not. You are on thin ice. I expect perfection from here on out. No excuses and no exceptions. Do you understand?" he asked. Lara nodded.
"I get it. I do. It's just been a shitty week. I'll get over it. You wont have any more problems from me. I guarantee it," she said, actually meaning it. Dave gave her a rare smile.
"Good girl. Go take your break and then get back out there. We're busy tonight."
"Sure thing," she said, pleased to escape the meeting with her job intact.
"Oh by the way, I ordered some of those masquerade masks we talked about the other day, for the lap dance tutorial video. They arrived this morning. They're in your cubby in the changing room. Take a look at them at some point and pick one you like. There is one that looks like a Zorro mask but made of lace and feathers. It's pretty sexy," Dave said.
"Nice. I'll take a look after my shift," she said while getting up off the couch and heading for the door.
"Hey, Lara," Dave called after her with a grin on his face. "Jump!" he said with a snigger. She laughed back at him as she reached the door.
"I'll know where to land, don't worry," she fired back at him, revelling in their private joke.
Dave stared at her as she left the office.
She's been way off the last few days. Maybe it's her time of the month or something,
he thought to himself.
Better put the "fuck Lara" plan on hold for a day or two. Don't want her bleeding all over me,
he concluded as he returned to his desk.
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Lara walked gracefully down the stairs, away from Dave's office and headed towards the bar. She'd take her break there and have a drink. It might cheer her up a little.
I'm fucking up at work. I've gotta snap out of this funk. Let the party go, for the moment anyway. I'll deal with it later.
Easier said than done of course but Lara knew she needed to perform better for the rest of her shift and more so over the next few days. Remind Dave how good she was and all would be forgiven and forgotten.
At least don't lay out any more customers,
she thought to herself, unable to suppress a mirthful laugh as she remembered the look on the fuckers face as blood streamed down his nose.
She approached the bar, and slid onto the stool near the end and out of the way. Enrique, one of the bartenders at The Pearl, was nearing the end of his shift and preparing to hand over to his replacement. She liked Enrique. In fact, nearly everyone liked Enrique.
He was the life of the party, so to speak. He had jet black hair, on the long side for a guy. But it worked for him. He was from somewhere in South America, she wasn't sure where. She thought he looked a bit like a young Antonio Banderas. If Antonio had been 5'5.
And gay as Christmas,
she thought to herself, borrowing a phrase her mother often used.
Nobody would mistake Enrique for a straight man. He was loud and flamboyant, his dress sense mirroring that. If you wanted to make sure that your barman wouldn't mess with the girls in a strip club, hiring one that had zero interest in them, and was super obvious about it, was a smart move.
"Hola, mi amor," he said to her as she sat down.
"Hey, Enqriue," she greeted back.
"Djou want a drink, Lara?" he asked her in his heavy accent.
