Second Level

Lois scanned the club, trying not to be distracted by the sex shows and escapades on display—she was watching the servers with their drinks, taking money, where they were going. whatever else this club might be, it was a business, and people in service jobs have routes, schedules...she noticed a pair of doors on the second level, far away from the action.

"I'm going down!" she shouted into Alice and Boston's ears, and strode off.

The air was warm on her bare skin. Lois had to resist the urge to cover up her breasts and pussy as she moved, feeling the prying eyes and leering gazes of patrons and servers on her as she moved. She could feel her cheeks burn a little, embarrassment eating at her. No matter how confident she acted, Lois had as many hang-ups about her body as any other woman.

She descended the stair, eyes on the men and women gyrating on the tables in their sex shows, pretending to admire one after another as she moved closer and closer to the doors. Servers were in and out of them fairly regularly, but if she timed it right, she could be through without anyone seeing her...

Lois found a spot at the corner of the bar and ordered a drink—only realizing a moment later that she had left her purse up in the clothing room.

The reporter's palms itched as she waited for the bartender—a slim, tanned woman with dark flowing locks and a Mona Lisa half-smile on her mouth, naked except for a golden chain around her neck, ending in a golden vulva that dangled between her breasts.

How am I going to pay for this? Lois wondered. There's nowhere to run...I could ask to run a tab, or to get my purse...or... The reporter's heart thundered in her chest as the bartender returned with a cloudy white cocktail, the dark eyes staring fixedly at Lois' breasts. ...maybe we can work out a trade?