Inside, a doorman offers to take my coat as he greets me by name.
“Hello, Miss Renfrew,” he nods. “The party’s upstairs.”
“Thanks Bill,” I giggle before mincing to the elevator off to the side. Then, the golden doors part and I step into a jewel box before being whisked up to the sky. The Club Z compound is huge, and has its own restaurant, bar, cocktail lounge, as well as suites that members keep for their use. Not all events take place at the compound because Clay and Casper like variety, so sometimes we’ll go to another one of their properties, or even rent an estate in the Hamptons for a one-off event. But the compound has a special place in my heart because it’s here that I always feel sassiest. I know that there’s plenty of security, plenty of good food, and even better, the men always seem ready to live wild.
When I get off the elevator, I make my way down the hall to a large black padded door where a bouncer looms.
“Hey Fred,” I chirp. “How are you?”
The huge man continues to scowl.
“Good, good. It’s nice to see you, Miss Renfrew. Coming in?” he asks, one hand already on the door handle.
But I shake my head.
“No, I’m headed to the ladies’ lounge first. See you soon though!”
With that, I prance to a service door a little further down the hall and sure enough, it’s unlocked. Then I slip inside and make my way to the lounge where about two dozen girls mill about in varying stages of undress. I see that tonight’s going to be fun because quite a few of my co-workers are wearing peek-a-boo lingerie, and some have even rouged their nipples to make them especially alluring and inviting.
But I need to check in with my manager first and sure enough, Nicole’s in the back helping a few girls with their clothes and makeup. She smiles when she sees me.
“Thank God you’re here Lindy. I can always count on you to be ready before arriving, and not ten minutes later. You look good,” she says, eyeing me up and down. “Leave your hair as it is. It looks great wavy, but maybe add some lipstick.”
I turn to look in the mirror while pursing my lips.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, definitely. Use a red,” my manager says with a grin. “Otherwise, your color palette is too dark. That’s the downfall of black dresses.”
I titter.
“Okay, will do.”
Carefully, I paint my lips a gorgeous ruby shade and then pat my hair. I do look sassy and beautiful, even if some of the girls are wearing far more revealing outfits. Then, a bell chimes and Nicole claps her hands. We always do these huddles before we go out on the floor to make sure everyone is on the same page.
“Girls, you look amazing tonight,” Nicole begins. “You’re gorgeous, intelligent, and sexy. You also know the drill by now,” my manager adds. “Be sweet and sexy. Feel your way through the night, make the men feel good, and of course, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
We all giggle because there’s a rumor that Nicole used to be a hostess herself back in the day, although she has yet to confirm or deny it. But then, my manager glances at the clock on the wall and nods. “It’s time, ladies! Strut your stuff and make me proud. You know where to find me if you need me.”
With murmurs of anticipation, we hostesses line up and then make our way down a narrow hallway before approaching a large set of double doors. The doorman there bows, and asks, “Ready?”
We chorus, “Ready!” and then he whisks the slab open as we float into the generous space. It’s really more of a fancy lounge than a nightclub per se, although there is a polished dance floor off in the corner. Along one side of the wall is a large oak bar, and low-slung velvet couches are scattered about the room. Dimly lit chandeliers lend elegance, and already, quite a few men await, dressed in dark suits with drinks in their hands.
Heels click against the floor as my co-workers wander to the gentlemen and begin lighthearted conversation. The girls are pretty, intelligent, and witty with tinkling laughs and beautiful figures. Quite a few are just like me – we’re trying to earn in order to put bread on the table, and a select few are even single mothers who need to support their kids.
I scan the room while ordering an orange juice and then something stirs in the shadows, catching my eye. Was that a mouse? It can’t be. Club Z would take control of a pest problem immediately. But as my eyes grow used to the dim light, the movement comes again and I see that it’s a man standing by himself in the corner. He’s so still that he’s almost blending in with the floor-to-ceiling drapes behind him, as if he’s a part of the shadows.