Page 38 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“I was joking Ciara, you don’t have to give me anything.”

“Take it, call it a bonus for the hard-working messages.”

“You know Liam O’Shaughnessy noticed immediately it wasn’t you responding to your messages. I exchanged three messages with him and he said “yah, this is not Ciara. And he never replied to any of my follow-ups.

“Then call it a bonus for all the other men you message. I need to go get changed.”

I traipse down the short corridor to the changing room. Tanya is wearing Barbie pink metallic glittery hot pants with a matching boob tube and her hair braided in high pigtails.

“You look great.” I say.

“I’d put on a lot of make-up on tonight. If I were you. I’m not being a bitch. Just trying to help,” she says.

I laugh internally. Here I was, a thirty-three-year-old detective masquerading as a twenty-eight-year-old stripper. she was probably right; I needed more makeup. I haul my bag out from the locker and change quickly into my orange printed leopard print playsuit.

I never dream of wearing such a thing, even in my own company at home, but at the club, Danger Darcy, the persona I’d taken on would wear an orange leopard print orange with a zip down the front, leaving ample space for my cleavage to protrude.

After removing my makeup with a wet wipe I slather myself with foundation. I flip my botte back and dampen my beauty blender to press the Estee Lauder fluid into my skin. The Irish taxpayer had paid for my entire makeup collection. Part of my start up undercover fees

I strap myself into my stilettos and walk out into the pumping music vibrating through my body.

I spot Aaron and Admir walking to the bar. Aaron pats Admir on his shoulder and whispers something in his ear, before turning and striding towards me.

“I need a word,” he says.

No lap dancer worth her salt at Lollipops allows a man to take her time without payment.

“It’s going to cost you,” I say.

“Liam wouldn’t be happy if I paid for a private dance, so we go into one of the booths and we just talk.” He says his eyes resting on my boobs as his lips part.

“It’s your money, handsome.” I say taking him by the hand, leading him around the corner to one of the private booths.

He sits down in the lip shaped red velvet chair and presses his palms into his knees.

“Liam isn’t the teddy bear you think he is.”

“Are you sure you really only want me to sit down next to you?” I ask, arching my back and running my finger down my thigh.

“I think you know the answer to that,” he says. “But if I say those words aloud, Liam will rip my throat out.”

“Why should I be so scared of Liam?” I ask.

“Liam comes across as a very sweet, humble, calm guy,” says Aaron.

“And he’s not?” I ask.

“Not when it comes to you. He’s wanted you since he first saw you.”

“Then why would he hurt me?”

“Liam’s rearranged the face of several women. He’s not the angel he puts forward.”

“And what they do to him?” I ask.

“A lot less than what you’re plotting, I suspect.”

“What is it that I’m plotting, Aaron?” I ask, moving towards him, curling my legs like a cat.

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