Page 16 of Arran's Obsession

My mouth dried. Thinking fast, I scrabbled for a way out of this that didn’t involve taking off my little black dress. “Would it be okay if I had a quick tour of the place? I know I can be what you need, but I’m new to this. Just give me a chance to orientate myself.”

They’d say no. I could already tell. I had a backup plan of hanging around outside and asking people as they came out if they knew Sydney, but that was weak. I really wanted to get one of the women alone.

To my utter surprise, the boss man tilted his head in agreement. He gestured to the woman who came to him and listened to his quiet instruction.

She smiled and pointed a beautifully manicured finger my way. “I’ll take you. It’ll be short, then we’ll return here. Don’t waste my time, Jenny.”

I jumped up, ready to go, not even caring that she’d mangled my name. I was Gen to my family but only them. Genevieve to everyone else. Jenny was leftfield completely, but I’d wear the name if it helped me find my dad.

Outside the office, I breathed a sigh of relief from being away from the skeleton scrutiny but waited to speak until we’d passed the bouncer and had moved deeper into the club. “That was intense.”

“Working here’s no walk in the park.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She slid me a look. “Alisha.”

“Have you been an employee long?” I really wanted to find someone who knew all the women.

Alisha didn’t reply. She tapped on a keypad then pushed open a door that gave way to a dark hallway, the walls decorated with thick pink fabric that continued underfoot. It muted the pulse of music that came from the other end. Either side of the hall were closed doors.

“Private rooms for dances.” She indicated left and right.

At the end of the space, the door opened, lights whirling and bodies in view through the narrow slice. A stripper in only a tiny pair of knickers led a much older man whose gaze was fixed to her chest. The old dog was practically drooling and barely noticed us as the woman directed him into a room, shutting the door.

“Do you offer…” I picked over my words. “More than the dancing?”

“Do you work for the police in any capacity, whether employed or contracted?” Alisha stopped dead.

I opened my mouth. “No. I deliver food.”

She appraised me. Compared to her, and the woman I’d just seen with a client, I was severely under-styled, despite the fact I’d curled my blonde hair and dabbed on smoky eye makeup. Alisha’s appearance was exaggerated but seriously impressive. Red lips, heavy fake eyelashes, hair extensions to her ass, all impactful.

She tapped her fingers on her thigh as if making a decision then indicated for me to follow her. At the room the stripper had entered, Alisha flicked back the cover to an eyehole.

“See for yourself what the expectation is.”

I peered in. Sprawled on the couch, the old goat client gazed up at the dancer, his knees wide and his hands gripping the couch cushion. In front of him, and with her back to me, thewoman wound her hips in a tight circle, timing her moves to the beat of the music. Her hands were at her breasts, her feet bare on the carpet, and her straight black hair tumbling down her naked back, following the path of a line of Chinese symbols down her spine.

As the beat changed, she said something to her client, and he shifted so both arms were on the back of the plush sofa, then the dancer leaned in to brace herself over him, her tits in his face, millimetres away from touching him. She undulated to and fro, so close to him. His hand came up, but she arched away, waggling a finger. His chest rose and fell. Mine did the same, my breathing coming harder.

This was seduction in action. A woman earning her cash. It was hot as fuck, and she’d barely begun.

The man dropped his hand to his very obvious erection that strained at his pale chinos. He stroked himself, his features twisted in a need I’d never seen on the two boyfriends I’d slept with.

The stripper eased her fingers into her thong. Stripped it.

“Have you ever fucked anyone for money?” Alisha whispered in my ear.

I jumped and broke my gaze on the act. “No.”

“Ever put on a show for a boyfriend?”

My cheeks warmed all the more. “Not really.”

“Huh. You don’t say.”

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” I babbled, my mind still half on the hypnotic scene in the room. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t sexy enough. “You must’ve trained people before?”

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