Everyone who saw
Lila said she was the world’s greatest lap dancer.
It was also said—again,
by everyone who saw her—that if you were lucky enough to buy a lap dance from
her, you’d never be the same again.
Vaughn had never
been one to listen blindly to idle gossip. As a Hedge Fund broker for the last
five years, he knew that the best method of learning anything was to address
the issue, do your research, then apply what you’d
learned. At thirty-six, he’d learned years ago that it
didn’t take much to get peoples’ jaws working on overload, and when a gorgeous woman
happened to be the main issue, this was when their jaws slipped quickly past
overload and kicked in with full force into hazardous territory.
it best not to take the advice of those he didn’t know
very well. It seemed to go hand in hand with stock
tips from unknown sources. With tips, you knew that if they weren’t
one hundred percent reliable, you’d get burned, even destroyed. You’d end up with no job, no money, no clients, and the sort
of reputation that would seal your doom. However, when a female was concerned, Vaughn
fully realized that any sort of gossip would be subjective, and even those he
knew quite well would be suspect.
In the eyes of
Randall Vaughn, it was best to tread cautiously even when your instincts
persuaded you to proceed.
Vixens had been
the hottest strip club in the Orlando area for the last three years. Notorious
for its lap dancers as well as a variety of live talent shows featuring the
best local dancers in the area, the club boasted the hottest strippers and pole
dancers in the state of Florida. Although rumors abounded of the local mob owning
and operating the business, the place ran smoothly, and was
At nine-thirty, the club was packed and loudly
chaotic. The huge U-shaped bar in the main room was engulfed
with male customers sitting as close as possible to the edge of the counter, chattering
loudly while slurping beer and mixed drinks. Meanwhile, the topless pole
dancers performed their routines to the erratic thumping of the p.a. system
piped into various sections of the huge room. Lines formed down the hall
leading to the half dozen separate lap dance rooms, where the naked strippers earned
big money performing their steamy routines for their horny customers.
Vaughn and two
other investment consultants from Dunne & Milhoff Financial Services, Inc.,
sat at a round table in the middle of the big room. While
the three men sipped their vodka martinis and commented on the various pole
dancers working on top of the bar, several shapely half-naked waitresses scurried by, balancing drinks on the large silver
metal trays they held high above their heads.
“How much do you
think one of those pole dancers makes in an evening?” Visibly uncomfortable, Dwight
Currin shifted his large ass in his seat. He used a napkin to dab at the sweat
from his chubby face while continuously crossing and uncrossing his legs under
“Depends on how
often the babe spreads ‘em, twists around, then shoves her tits and ass in the
guy’s face.” Wallace Bremer smiled stupidly as he picked up his Martini.
“They all do
that,” Currin said with a loose shrug.
“Not all at
once, though, right?”
Currin added with a sloppy grin, “I’d pay to
see somethin’ like that!”
“Whaddya think, Vaughn?”
Bremer raised a brow. “Three bills a night?”
the slender blonde sliding up and down the pole in the
center of the bar. Her luxurious, wavy golden hair reached the level of her
lower back and slid like a golden curtain down her side as she twisted from
side to side while keeping a firm grip on the pole. With a flick of her head,
her hair jumped wildly, jerking like flame against the blue lights focused on
the wall behind her. Her huge tits rose as she slid all the way down into a
deep squat position with her knees nearly a yard
gotta be worth five bills, easy.” Vaughn was impressed.
Ramsey says,” Currin replied, “those dancers make between three and five K a
“Five K?” Bremer
gave a low whistle. “Six
nights a week? Ya know what that comes out to?”
“Um…thirty K a
week?” Currin’s bloodshot gray eyes grew.
“You always were
great at math,” Vaughn commented dryly.
“Who knows what
that Lila babe makes,” Bremer said.
will,” Currin said.
scowled. “Ramsey says she only does it for a certain kinda guy.”
got her own book.” Currin sipped his drink. “Some say there are some seriously
interesting names in it.”
“Book?” Vaughn seemed
“Some call it
the “Big Boy Club,” Currin explained.
Bremer sized up Currin and laughed. “You’re not in it,
you bastard. She doesn’t like big butts, three chins,
or huge bald spots!”
“You got one of
those, too, you asshole,” Currin said, chuckling.
and looked puzzled. “What? A big butt? Chins? Or a huge bald spot?”
Both broke out
in drunken laughter.
shook his head and picked up his glass. He hated it when these guys drank. They
just couldn’t contain themselves. Half an hour
watching pole dancers and sexy waitresses work their
trade and they turned into sloppy morons in two-thousand-buck suits acting like
fraternity jerks. He was just glad they weren’t doing anything
funny, like stroking their dicks beneath the table. His attention went back to
the blond pole dancer.
qualify.” Bremer nodded.
was also nodding. “You’re in shape. You watch what you
eat, work out. You’re tall, have a nice head of hair—”
teeth all the time,” added Bremer.
“You two asking me out? Or getting ready to put me on eBay?”
“You oughta try
and nail that bitch.” Currin turned dead serious.
“It’ll cost ya,”
Bremer said, “but everyone says she’s worth it!”
“Who? That blonde over there?”
payin’ one bit of attention, are ya?” Currin sounded annoyed.
“I like that one.”
Vaughn pointed. “Blondie looks terrific in that maroon thong. And the spinners
on those pasties are doing a number on me below decks.”
Bremer exchanged frowns.
He couldn’t believe them. “You two trying to say that blonde
“She’s hot. So what?”
talking fireworks, buster!” Currin’s hairy black brows pushed together.
both yelled simultaneously.
nodded. “That lap dancer everyone keeps talking about.”
sighed. “Her. Lila. Lady Greatness.”
“For a second,”
Bremer said, “we thought we were gonna have to take you in and have them check
“For what? I’m healthy, dammit. Just kind of
“For not caring
about a chick who could probably cause a serious explosion in your shorts just
by pushing her titties in your face.”
Vaughn groaned. “Who
the hell said that?”
knowledge,” Bremer said.
“Bruce Landers.” Bremer blurted it out without hesitation.
“Landers?” Vaughn scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t even know where that guy is. He left D&M months
ago, didn’t he?”
“Transferred.” Currin looked thoughtful as he sipped his drink.
“Think he’s somewhere in Tampa.”
“Happened not long after he had a lap dance from Lila,” Bremer said
with a chuckle. “I think she kinda got to him.”
“I doubt that.” Vaughn didn’t believe these
“Wasn’t that…” Currin shook his head. “I heard the Brewster got an
offer from Tampa Industrial, even sounded better than the one they gave him at
“I heard he had some other problems.” Vaughn remembered someone say
Landers was having marital problems and was looking for a way out.
“Rumors,” Bremer muttered. “The wife was givin’ him the axe, so he
decided to appease her by movin’ over to the Bay Area to be close to her kin.”
“Whatever.” Currin put his glass down. “Gettin’ back to Lila… Landers
did say it was the best lap dance her ever paid for in his entire life.”
“Says a lot,” Bremer said. “That boy sure went for lap dancers! I
heard someone say he spent five C a week on ‘em.”
“Addicted?” Vaughn asked.
“To babes!” Currin laughed. “Ever see his wife?”
“She used to work at the Kitty Review on the Trail. She was a
dancer there. It’s where they met.” He whistled.
“Hotter than hot!”
“I heard Landers say Lila made his wife look like a drowned cat.”
Currin grinned stupidly.
finished his Martini and shook his head. “Hope he slept with one eye open after
An hour later,
the threesome decided to call it a night.
at his Rolex. 10:35. Time to drive back to the apartment. Since he had a
conference call at ten the next morning, he decided to do the smart thing and
hit the hay so he could squeeze in eight hours of restful sleep before hitting
the shower and getting ready at his leisure in the morning.
He was grateful he’d only had one Martini. He’d
finished the drink more than half an hour ago and figured it would be out of
his system before long. If he drove carefully, his odds of being
pulled over were slight at best.
Bremer, on the other hand…
thought nothing of sucking down three or four strong drinks before getting
behind the wheel. Currin had already been pulled over
twice, Bremer three times. It was a wonder they hadn’t
been dropped from D&M. Vaughn guessed that it was because Bremer was one of
D.B. Milhoff’s drinking buddies. Milhoff was a notorious boozer. And since
Bremer and Currin were buds, Currin won points from Milhoff on the technicality.
The parking lot remained
just as packed as it had been when the three of them showed up nearly two hours earlier.
black BMW sat in the space out front, next to Currin’s Cadillac SUV. Currin and Bremer
were already getting into the Caddie as Vaughn took out his keys. They waved as
Currin backed up, pulled out, and took off down the gravel lane.
Vaughn went over
to the driver’s side. Just as he was about to open the door, a breathy,
low-pitched woman’s voice said, “Excuse me.”
A tall, slender,
red-haired woman wearing a Miami Dolphins baseball cap, lightweight jacket, cut-off
shorts, and athletic shoes was standing next to a silver Porsche 911R
convertible. The thick strap of a pricey-looking tan leather handbag rested on
her left shoulder. She held a ring of keys in her right hand. She seemed upset.
“Hi.” He took a
couple of steps in her direction.
“I was wondering
if you’ve got a cell phone. I’ve
got a flat, and—” She shrugged awkwardly and gestured to the front tire, which
was, as she’d just said, flat. “I guess I had one of those stupid brain blips
and left my cell back at the apartment.”
pulled his out of his jacket pocket. “Who do you need to call?”
insurance company. I have to ask them to get someone
out here to fix the flat.”
“At this time of
night?” He glanced at his watch again. “It’s well past
ten-thirty. I don’t think—”
“Well, I’ve got to get something done about this before I
come back out and drive back home. I go on at eleven—” She glanced at the
“You’re a dancer?”
He didn’t know why he’d asked her that. He could tell
by her looks and by her slender build that she was probably a
pole dancer. Those long, muscular legs definitely belonged
to a dancer.
She nodded. “I
can’t stand out here and wait for one of those garage guys to wander out here
in an hour and—”
“Do you have a
“In the trunk. It’s one of those tiny temp tires.”
“I can change it
“No, it’s all right. I can’t have you
doing that. If you’ll just let me use your cell—”
“I’ve changed tires before. I’m kind
of an expert. I can swap her out in ten minutes.”
then gestured. “You’re in your good clothes.”
“That suit goes
for what? Two K? Three?”
He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his tie. “But it’s
no problem. Just open the trunk and I’ll fix you up.”
“This is really
nice of you—”
“Like I said, no
problem.” He laid his jacket on the driver’s seat of the BMW, dropped the tie
on top of it, and rolled up his sleeves. “Good thing you parked under the
lights. At least I won’t have a problem seeing what
“You’re a life
“I owe you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Sure I do.” Her
expression was serious. “And I always pay my debts.”
He followed her
over to the trunk of the Porsche and watched her as she bent and pulled open the
tiny trunk. He noted that her legs were even shapelier and more muscular up
close. Definitely a dancer’s legs. He could imagine
how terrific they appeared when she was dressed in a
G-string and six-inch spikes.
He pulled the
tire out and dropped it on the ground, then rolled it over to the front of the
car, leaning it gently against the side of the bumper. She handed him the X
wrench. “I’d better hurry inside and let ‘em know I’m here.”
“I’ll swap this baby out, put the flat in the trunk, and lock
her up. I’ll be gone by the time you’re finished
working, so you take care, all right? Maybe I’ll see
you next time I stop by for a drink.”
“Not so fast.”
She was shaking her head as she walked back to where he was standing. “I told
you I always pay my debts. You come right back in when you’re
finished. Tell Lou at the door you’re my guest. I owe
you a lap dance.”
“That’s all right. I’ve got an early
conference call tomorrow morning—”
“You’ve got plenty of time, then. You’re
my eleven-thirty. Just show up at Platinum, I’ll let
‘em know you’ve got a dance scheduled with me, okay? I really appreciate this.”
“Like I said,
it’s no biggie.”
“Yes it is. Most
guys are real jerks.”
“Most guys would
offer to help you.”
“You know what they’d want in return, right?”
“Thanks again.” She
smiled, then turned and marched rather quickly toward
the rear entrance.
name?” he called after her.
turned around, and smiled. “I’m Lila!”
later, Vaughn finished changing the dancer’s tire.
For the next ten
minutes, he stood beside the BMW, watching the heavy traffic passing by. He was
debating with himself whether he should drive home or turn around and walk right
back to the big pink building.
Although he was
slightly tired, he knew that spending the next half hour sitting in a chair
while a beautiful stripper performed her intensely sexy routine for him was not
going to do him any harm. If anything, it would put a sweet end to a long day
and might even help him sleep. And aside from getting him home a little later,
it wouldn’t do him much harm whatsoever. He’d paid for a lap dance twice before in the last couple of
years and hadn’t suffered because of it, so he didn’t think this would be any
And when he
remembered Currin and Bremer going on and on about this babe Lila being the world’s
greatest lap dancer, he found his curiosity perking up once again and knew damned
well that he’d want to kick himself in the ass if he
passed up this opportunity. According to those two, Lila had her own book and
was no doubt sought after by the “Big Boy Club.” And if Vaughn had learned
anything about big business—legit or otherwise—over the years, the “big boys” meant
politicians, CEOs, bank presidents, investors, and other similar big-money
thought, since the “big boys” went only for class and quality. Vaughn recalled
hearing about Dunn, the CEO of Dunn & Milhoff, spending five thousand bucks in one night for a couple of high-class dancers.
Sexy images of
the redhead popped into his head, and he wondered what she’d
look like under the spot. He’d seen her only in street
clothes—baseball cap, lightweight jacket, cut-offs, and athletic shoes.
Ordinary, everyday stuff, when you looked at it objectively…except for the fact
that he’d seen those legs as she bent over to open the
trunk of the Porsche.
Dancer’s legs. Long,
shapely, and well-defined, with diamond-shaped calves. The kind of legs any guy
in his right mind would dream about. The kind any guy in the world would love
to have wrapped around his waist.
And when a babe
could look spectacular in ordinary street clothes, a guy could only imagine how
she’d look decked out in G-string, pasties, spikes,
and full body makeup.
“I owe you a lap
That’s what she’d told him. And she’d also said she always paid her debts.
Well, baby, he
thought the moment his curiosity began spiking again, I’m
about to go on in there and collect.
He grabbed his
tie, slipped it on, shrugged into his jacket, and went back up the winding walk
that led to the front entrance of the club.
The gorilla stood
in front of the door, practically covering it while looking him over. Vaughn
was just about to tell him he was Lila’s guest when
the big guy nodded slightly and muttered, “Go on in.”
Damn, he thought, watching in
amazement as the huge dude stepped aside. This babe must have some serious pull with the management…
words, Vaughn pushed open the front door and went inside.