Go inside

The young man sounds almost ****, and you feel a pang of sympathy for whatever is troubling him. You have more troubles than you can handle yourself at the moment, though.

“Sorry… I can’t talk right now. I’m needed inside.” You avoid eye contact and hurry past him to the side entrance of the establishment. He makes no further effort to delay you. When you get to the door it is, as you were told to expect, unlocked. You open it and are immediately assaulted with the loud reverberation of tech music and the distinctive smell of seedy establishments such as this: a combination of beer, smoke, greasy food, cheap aftershave, and the musky whiff of sex.

“It’s about time!” A woman of about 40 years meets you as soon as you step inside. The harried look on her face tells you that she has some kind of managerial responsibility and that it has been a very trying night. “I think there must be half a dozen birthday bashes, bachelor parties, and ‘wife’s away for the weekend’ festivities going on tonight,” she exclaims. “Every horny guy in the city seems to be out there, and of course, we’re short on girls. Becca hooked up with some sugar daddy and quit without any notice. Sessie is out with the clap. Who knows where Ronnie and Dalia are… probably strung out in some crack house. Anyway, we’ve been trying to keep the guys drunk enough that they won’t notice. I’ve told all the girls — and I’m telling you — push the ‘extra services’ tonight. Rocco says he’s let you keep half the tips if we can bring in enough to offset the extra liquor.”

You look over the woman’s shoulder into the club. It is filled with men of all ages. Most of them congregate around three platforms where nude or nearly-nude women are dancing around poles. A few scantily-clad women are milling about, carrying trays and interacting with the customers. Along the walls, you see curtain-enclosed booths — presumably for private lap dances — or, given what you’ve come to suspect — practically anything that customers are willing to pay for. Along one side, there is a small stage that is currently empty.

A guy wearing a greasy apron approaches and gets the woman’s attention. “Hey, Bobbi, we’re running out of cheesy nachos. Tell the girls to start pushing the cheese sticks, or we’re gonna have a bunch of unhappy gents.”

Bobbi runs her hands through her hair. “I swear, if one more thing goes wrong tonight, I’m going to tell Rocco to take this job and stick it up his hairy ass. I’d like to see how he does on his own, managing a bunch of ****-addled strippers and cooks who are ducking out on their parole officers. And I’d like to see him do it while a hundred horny men grab his ass every time he walks past a table!”

She gives you an irritated look, takes your handbag from you and says, “I’ll throw this in your locker for you. Now just get out there and make some men happy.”