Sinful Secrets

Carla meets me at my apartment and drives us to the club in her Porsche. We pull up in front of a large building with a long line of people, a parking valet, and two bouncers standing at the door. The neon sign above it reads Sinful Secret.

The valet walks up and opens my door. I climb out while Carla walks around and laces her arm through mine, pulling me toward the club. The bouncers give Carla a quick smile before letting us through.

As soon as we step in, my body hums with the beat of the music pulsing through the entire building. The dark atmosphere is highly appealing, and I notice girls dancing in cages, on poles, and on stages above tables with both men and women watching in awe. There are people dancing and making out everywhere.

I’m on cloud nine as I realize that this is my first step in finally letting loose and living. Carla continues to pull me toward the bar as my eyes flick all around, taking in every sight with both shock and intrigue.

“You made it! Holy shit! You look hot, Danny!” Chaz yells out from behind the bar.

Carla talked me into wearing this black, backless silk dress with a high collar and three silver chains fanned out across my back. I feel practically naked. Paired with a high ponytail, makeup, and gladiator-style stilettos, I look like a hooker. Carla says it’s called an escort when you look this good.

She’s wearing a red velvet halter top and a black leather miniskirt that hug all her killer curves. Her brown hair is down, and in her thigh-high stiletto boots, she towers over me even with my heels on. Being short sucks sometimes.

“Hey, Chaz. When I pictured your club…I certainly didn’t picture this,” I say.

He laughs as he pours us a drink.

“Let’s go talk in one of the private rooms.”

I nod. I have the sudden feeling of being watched. My eyes slowly trail around the room and meet the cold, dark-brown eyes of Mr. Lambert. He’s sitting at a table in front of a woman dancing seductively on a pole, but he’s not even watching her. He’s staring right at me. I feel my cheeks warm.

I turn back to Chaz, who’s waiting for me with Carla at the end of the bar. He walks us down a dimly lit hall with dozens of doors, most with a red light over them. He opens one at the end of the hall with a green light above it.

My eyes go wide as we enter the room. There is a bed in the far-left corner, a bench with everything from whips to handcuffs, a chair in the center with leather bindings on the arms and legs, and a black leather couch to the far right. It’s easily the least terrifying thing in here.

Chaz walks over to the couch and motions for us to join him. Carla is more willing than I am and slides in next to him with me bringing up the rear.

“As you can see, this is no ordinary club. Carla refers to it as the pleasure palace. We have a few positions open, but judging by the look on your face, I’m thinking you might prefer bartending. You’re welcome to try any of the positions you want though.”

I feel my nerves kicking in and take a deep breath before answering him.

“I’m not the most coordinated, so pole dancing is probably out. I have always wanted to be a bartender though. When could I start?”

His lips pull into a huge smile.

“Tonight. Let’s get out there and see what you’ve got.”

We exit the room, and Chaz leads me to the bar. I take to everything with ease, and with Chaz’s help, I learn how to make dozens of different drinks. I’m shocked by how well these customers tip as one of the men slides me $20 when all he got was a beer.

***

I’ve been working for almost four hours when Chaz pulls me aside.

“You’re a fucking natural, Danny! Any tips you made tonight are yours to keep. Are you good with working Monday through Saturday, 6 p.m. to 1 a.m.?”

I nod excitedly. “Hell, yes! I didn’t realize how fun this would be! What should I wear?” He gives me a wicked grin and leans in close.

“The more skin you show, the better. This outfit, for example, is perfect.”

I smile and quickly return to serving customers. The crowd doesn’t die down until just after midnight, and by 12:40 a.m., I’m working on cleaning the bar.

“Your tips are in an envelope with your name on it on the back counter,” Chaz says as he comes back to check on me. “I have to go check in with the other girls, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gives me a friendly hug then disappears down the hall behind the bar.

I finish cleaning, grab the envelope, and head out. I call a cab as I’m leaving the building and wait outside.

“Four years of college so you can be a bartender at a fetish club?” I hear Mr. Lambert’s dry, cold voice say behind me. I turn to look up into his dark-brown eyes.

“I fail to see how my job is any of your concern,” I reply in an equally cold tone.

“Sounds like a waste of time and money to me.”

I feel my anger flaring inside me.

“What the fuck do you care? Was it your time? NO! Was it your money? NO!” I fold my arms over my chest and look away from him, trying to soothe my temper before I lose it completely.

“Well, if you had worn that to your interview, maybe you would have had a more favorable result.”

I whip around with my fists clenched, eyes burning with rage, and stare up at him.

“Big surprise you’d hire someone based off their looks and not their potential. You’re a fucking pig.” I’m relieved when my taxi pulls up, and I quickly climb in, ready to put Mr. Lambert and his unwanted opinions far behind me.