Pull away

You rip your hand away and glare at her before she can even try to open her mouth. You push your way back to the bar, where Alex has a worried look on her face.

“I see her,” she says, beating you to it. “Roxy!” she shouts, making you flinch.

Roxy appears, expression guarded.

It looks like Professor Austen is trying to leave. Alex jerks her chin at her retreating back.

“Make sure she hits the road,” Alex orders, and Roxy nods, going after her.

“Thanks,” you say.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex says with a scowl. “I wasn’t sure you were right about all this, but that seals it. Don’t worry, kid. My witness will come through. She’s the bartender at Goldfinger. She sees everything, but she has nothing to do with my crew or yours. You couldn’t ask for someone better.”

“Nice,” you say, shaking her hand. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Go shake your tits.”

She means it. Your dumbass girls are busy flirting, so you have to herd them to the stage, where half the biker gang and several overly enthusiastic bar patrons are waiting. The music is much too loud, the bar is so packed that nobody can move, and they’re using ice water. It’s so miserable and stupid that all you can do is scream and laugh along with everyone else as you’re quickly drenched.

The customers get what they want: see-through shirts, boobs, hard nipples, and four college girls moving around and having a good time. It’s hard to pay attention to the crowd because these people are bad at aiming. You are constantly getting splashed in the face and having to blink the water out of your eyes. Your hair is ruined, but nobody cares.

You’re freezing, but they aren’t done yet. Alex is out there. Money is changing hands. There’s lots of excitement, but the bar is all lights, water, and noise. You have no idea what’s going on. Karen grabs you from behind and you shriek and struggle as someone else splashes more water on you.

The deal was for ten minutes of this at most. You end up with more like twenty, and it felt like twenty years.

The customers are already drunk enough that the bikers have to hold a few of them back as you and the girls climb down from the stage. You finally get a look at Kris. It’s a hell of a view, but not worth what you just went through. You cannot imagine being less in the mood to give a lap dance, but a deal is a deal. They don’t even give you a towel; they want to keep you all wet.

Alex pinches your ass as she nudges you through a door into the most disgusting room you have ever seen. It’s not filthy or gross, but the idea of it is… it’s a cramped room right behind the bar’s little stripper stage. Ugh.

But you stop as the door closes behind you.

The woman who won your dance is waiting in the chair. She’s wearing a knee-length skirt, a nice sweater, and a jacket. She looks chic and sophisticated, as always.

It’s Mavis Griffin. She sits demurely, carefully controlling her expression.

You do the same; you can’t let her see you looking surprised. You wonder how much she just spent for this.

Her presence here confirms something for you. You don’t know why she came, but she doesn’t look uncomfortable in this setting. You were suspicious, and now you know that Mavis has been in places like this before. So there’s a good chance that whether she shows it or not, she likes what she sees.

This might be a chance to give yourself a leg up.

Try to get Mavis’ support for tomorrow?

Or let her stay neutral?