Carte Rouge: VISA

“Carte Rouge: VISA” was a European football themed strip club which translated to Red Card: VISA.

The idea was that strippers were traded from other countries like football players. They danced and men hoped to get into their pants. CRV were investigated once ten years ago for human trafficking because the name was suspicious. Nothing came about.

Nadia had been dancing with them for a year now. That was where she learnt most of her French.

“Salut mon chou, tu veux une danse?” Nadia purred. (“Hey sweetie, want a dance?”)

“Dégage, pervers.” Nadia shouted, when they touched her. (“Back off, pervert.”)

The girls were allowed to touch the patrons. But they couldn’t touch the girls. But there were those that broke the rules. They were viciously tossed into the gutter.

Despite the slogan on the front of the club being: “Un club où les règles se brisent…” (“A club where the rules are broken…”)

The front door. Blue. Red. White. Neon. Carte Rouge: VISA. A bouncer in a PSG jacket.

Inside was a stadium tunnel with the sound of cheering from speakers. Posters of naked women on the tunnel walls. One of Nadia winking.

Inside was urban — down to Earth. Large 70 inch TV screens playing football. Women performing on poles in skimpy football uniforms. An electric vibe. Beers all around. French middle class men in the 40s — younger Boulanger’s.

The penalty box was for VIPs — those who paid well — who could get the best service.

Nadia was making out with Johnny Bellamy. His rough hands all over her. He was the manager and coach in one. Ripping her clothes off. He was a former nightclub DJ in the 2000s — twenty odd years older than Nadia — now the owner of CRV. Bad English, but made up for it with charisma.

”Oh Nadia… You have best tits — I swear…” he said, nuzzling him handsome face into her bare breasts. Biting the bra off. He had light stubble and tanned skin. Long brown hair.

Nadia got on her feet. Purring. Her face pushed up against his bulk.

“Oh Johnny, is this for me?” She smiled.

She unzipped his trousers and his musky manhood popped out. She spat on it. Licking her hands and stroking it. It perked out. Hard as a rock. Stiff. Mmmm…

”Fuck Nadia…” He moaned, “Top tier!”

Nadia looked up at him and sucked harder. Gagging. Her cheeks hollow and lips popping. Slurping. Balls hanging and hitting her chin. He grabbed her by the ears and began to thrust hard. Fucking her pretty little slut face.

“Ug… Ug… Ug… Ug… Ack! Ahhh!” She gasped for air as he pulled out.

“Nadia! We need you out in five!” Xiao Mei shouted — she turned the corner. A beautiful 22-year-old Chinese woman in a PSG crop top and booty shorts. She had long black hair and pale sallow skin. Big beautiful eyes and a thin flat nose.

“You two are messing around at work again… You should know better!” Xiao Mei shouted and picked Nadia up off her knees. Xiao Mei jabbed Johnny in the side. Idiot…

Nadia blushed and was thrust onto the stage. All eyes on her. A smile on her face.