Holly Lisle Last Girl Dancing

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"Goldcastle won't let you dance in open-toe shoes; something about keeping
down injuries. You can't ever wear a watch, either."
"Thanks," Jess said.
"And get those grippy things from Wal-Mart to put on the bottoms, or you'll
bust
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stage. The floor right around the pole is unbelievably slippery."
Jess grinned. "Got it." She paid Delaney in cash.
Delaney's voice dropped. "And watch your back," she said as they all walked
out to the parked cars. They stood in Delaney's front yard at noon on a hot,
sultry
Atlanta summer day, and Delaney looked both ways before speaking, as if she
was afraid something was going to jump out and grab, her. "There really is
something& nasty& going on there. I got wind of it and left didn't have to be
told twice. I've never been one to figure that all the awful stuff in the
world couldn't happen to me."
"Thanks," Jess said, and meant it. There were, after all, decent people left
in the world. "If I didn't have to be there, I wouldn't. But I'll be careful."
"They were nice people," Hank said on the way back. "Her boyfriend was scared
shitless for her that somebody was going to come after her. They're taking a
huge financial hit because she quit dancing, but he's relieved."
"I liked her," Jess said. "She was scared for me."
"You should be scared for you, too."
"I'm the person who's going in to fix things."
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"Right," Hank growled. 'Tell me how that makes you bulletproof."
Jess started to tell him that no bullets had been involved and managed to shut
up just in time. She knew what he meant. She didn't have to correct him. And
he was right. Delaney was right, too. She did have to be afraid. There was
something about Goldcastle that set off all her alarms, something innately
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horrible and wrong about it. She was tempted to write off the feeling as being
her reaction to strip clubs in general, but she couldn't. The exotic-dance
industry seemed cold and hard to her, but at least the other clubs she'd been
in didn't leave her feeling like something was creeping up behind her.
"I
will be careful," she said.
Hank didn't look at her, but he nodded. "I know you will. And I'm going to do
what I can to help you be more careful."
In the few hours she had left, Jess bought a bunch of thongs, picked out
music, worked out dance routines, and did her own costume modifications on the
red and the black gowns. Sparkly fringe and a glue gun stood in for sewing
skill. It was "any idiot can do this," but when it came to sewing, Jess was
any idiot.
And then she woke to the alarm clock blaring, and she lay there realizing that
in a few hours, she was going to have to take off her clothes in front of a
bunch of guys who were spending their lunch hour away from the office wishing
for tits
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Holly%20Lisle%20-%20Last%20Girl%20Dancing%20(v1.0).html and ass, and she
wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.
But she got up, showered, glued the disguised microphone to her navel, shaved
everything, washed and dried her hair, brushed her teeth, and tried to think
about inconsequential things. She put on jeans and a T-shirt because she
didn't want to look like a dancer when she drove to the club; she stuck the
black gown, a couple of thongs and a G-string, a pair of sweatpants for
wanning up and cooling down backstage, and the cowgirl outfit into her kit
bag. She also tossed in a pair of black patent-leather pumps with four-inch
heels and grips on the soles. She found that she could get all the rest of the
costume gear the toy six-shooters, the low-slung gun belt, and the lasso into
the bag. But not the hat.
She sighed, and tugged on the high-heeled, fringed cowboy boots that would be
what she danced in when she wore the cowgirl costume. Then she scooped all the
makeup she'd bought into the bag, jammed the cowboy hat on her head, and swung
out the door. She stopped off at Hardee's for breakfast, had three ham
biscuits, and did not succumb to guilt.
Then she drove herself to Goldcastle. She was early, but one of the handouts
Teri had given her stated that as long as she got in before eleven, she could
warm up on the stage. The club was open from eleven a.m. until four a.m., but
dancers were permitted in early. Jess called the surveillance van on her cell
phone as she drove past it, told the undercover guys she was ready to go live,
and they turned
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Holly%20Lisle%20-%20Last%20Girl%20Dancing%20(v1.0).html on her mike. Hank
would finish placing the transmitter boosters when the club opened to
customers, and the UC guy said sound checks inside the club had gone well for
them so far. So she did the mike test, they said they had her loud and clear,
and she headed in.
There was a different gorilla at the employee door this time still not one of
the undercover guys, but not the one that made her skin crawl, either. "You're
early,"
he said.
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She nodded. "First day. I wanted to test out the floor and the pole and the
stairs and make sure there wasn't anyplace where I'd be walking around in the
heels and break my neck."
"Good plan," he said. "We had a girl fall off the main stage doing a swing
around the pole a couple of months ago, and she broke her leg in three
places."
"Shit."
"Tell me about it." He opened the door for her. "Hey, good luck on your first
day." He had a nice smile. She hoped to hell he wasn't the killer, because she
thought he seemed like a decent enough guy. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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