"Hands off the lady," Ricky said, his deep voice waking the man from his lust-ridden state.

"Whaaatt?"

Oh please. Like this was this guys’ first time at a strip club. Everything about the man screamed Strip Club Stalker. Thankfully, the song chose that moment to wrap up, and she straightened up, stepping away from the man.

"How much?" Ricky's gruff voice asked her.

"Two songs."

Ricky glared at the man, his huge arms crossed over his chest. "That'd be $40 bucks SIR." His "sir" was almost an insult.

A scowl crossed the man's pasty face and he leaned back, pulling out a handful of bills and passed them to Alexis. She counted the bills - $45, and nodded to Ricky. Leaning forward, she kissed the man's check. "Thank you baby," she said, and sauntered off, swinging her ass. She walked into the back dressing room, dropping a five into Ricky's tip jar, and headed to her locker. She pulled out her cell phone and saw a text alert. One line, from Brad De Luca, sent almost an hour ago.

-- HEADING THERE TONIGHT. YOU WORKING?

She texted back.

HERE NOW. SEE YOU SOON BB.

-- NOT ALONE. AM WITH AN INNOCENT. PLAY NICE.

She laughed and closed her phone. Brad De Luca with an innocent? She'd believe that when she saw it. He typically liked the slutty type. All ass and no commitment, that was Brad's game. Why was he with a newbie, and if she was so fresh-faced, why was he bringing her here? She thought for a moment, and then opened her phone and texted back a response.

SO SHOULD I STAY AWAY?

His response was almost immediate

-- NO. I NEED YOU. GET MONTANA TO PLAY WITH HER.

Alexis smiled, pleased. She closed the phone and stuck it in her locker, then went in search of Montana.

----

"So why Safirre? It's the best?"

Brad pursed his lips. "It's not the best, but it's up there."

"I thought you only went to the best."

He laughed softly. "It will be the best, it's getting there. And I'm loyal to it. It's a relatively new club, but a true Gentlemen's Club, versus a Strip Club."

"Oh really. What makes it so Gentlemanly?"

"Well I'm sure the marketing departments all have different ways of branding it, but for me it comes down to one thing. The girls. Safirre's girls don't do drugs, don't drink at the club, or do "extra favors" in the VIP room."

"You don't like extra favors?"

"I don't like the type of girls who do extra favors. They reek of desperation. The girls at Safirre have more class, more self-respect."

I rolled my eyes. "You are so full of shit."

"Yet here you are."

I looked out the window at the colorful lights streaming by, the onlookers waving as our limo passed. "Yet here I am."

---

Alexis alerted the manager, Janine, as well as the doorman that Brad De Luca was coming. Janine, a 40-year old former dancer, was cool. She was smart, always catching the little ways the customers and girls tried to rip them off, but sweet too. Being a former dancer she treated them all with respect, and knew the different problems they all faced. Other strip clubs worked the girls too hard, and treated them like dogs. Safirre gave them health insurance, 401Ks (not that any of the girls had one), and allowed them to move up in management if they were interested. Alexis was not. She liked the attention she got from dancing, and knew her strengths. Smarts she didn't have. She would dance until she got too old, and would then probably become a house mom, like Sandra. Alexis was one of the only dancers who did receive a salary - supposedly it came from her being a floor supervisor, which she technically was, but they all knew what it was really for.

Fucking Brad De Luca.

CHAPTER 21

The limo pulled up to a long white building, with columns in the front and the always-present valet area. A muscular guy in a tight black tee shirt opened my door, and offered a hand to help me out. Brad followed close behind, and greeted the man with familiarity. They shook hands and conferred briefly, then Brad touched my elbow and we moved to the door. Two more muscular guys opened the large doors, and we moved into a gold hallway with dark carpet. We stopped at a desk where I was given a red wristband.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"So they know you're with me."

"Why do they need to know I'm with you?"

His eyes slowly traveled down my skimpy dress to my exposed legs. He smirked.

"Oh my god! I do not look like a stripper!" I smacked his arm.

"I think they prefer "exotic dancers."

"You better behave... come on and take me in."

We walked down the hall, passing restrooms and a store *who'd buy stuff here?* and then passed through another set of doors. The room we finally entered was huge, with different levels everywhere. The levels and tables were all focused toward the center of the room, set up similar to a theatre in the round. All over the room, girls from long ropes hung from the ceiling. They worn glittered straps of sheer fabric carefully wrapped around their body and barely covering their privates. The girls performed aerial acts on the ropes, spinning and hanging in different ways. The tables were discreetly unlit - the lighting everywhere else, so the room seemed well lit despite the pockets of privacy everywhere. The stage had three poles, all with beautiful women dancing on them. Other poles were scattered throughout the room, with more tan bodies spinning, hanging and twirling on them. Drink girls wandered the room, wearing chokers, suit jackets with bare skin underneath, miniskirts, and stilettos. The girls oozed elegance and sex, and were not the typical tattooed, big haired, bleach blond strippers of my visions. Maybe there was something to this "gentlemen's club" thing.

Brad led me through the tables till we came to one close to the stage. He pulled out a chair for me and I sat, demurely crossing my legs. I stared at the stage, a symphony of colors, lights, and glitter. A trampoline was hidden off the back of the stage and occasionally a dancer would swing down, bounce on the trampoline, and swing back to an upper platform. It was like a circus on sex crack. Most of the girls seemed to be gymnasts, somersaulting and bending in ways that their bodies shouldn't seem to flex. Around us, at the tables, the typical strip club activities seemed to be going on. Girls sitting on laps, flirting, and giving dances. The common theme seemed to be tanned, with big br**sts. I looked down at my chest and felt inadequate.

A drink girl appeared, with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. She gave Brad a hug and set down the bottle, popping the cork and pouring two glasses. Brad was fiddling with his phone, and slid it into his pocket as she finished.

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