Chapter 7
I opened the door to the knock, my heart bumping against my chest so hard I was sure he'd be able to see it bulging.
“Miss Newton,” Kyle said, “you look stunning.”
I blushed slightly at his words. The only time I ever got complemented was when Tess did it, or maybe some drunk guy on a night out telling me I was 'so f*cking hot' or some equally unappealing compliment. To hear a guy like this - a bloody Adonis - tell me I was stunning made my knees go weak.
“You ready to go?”
I nodded, my words still choked at the back of my throat. I felt like a giddy little girl inside. A job date, Alice, this is only a job date.
He led me down the stairs and out towards the parking lot at the front of the building. He was wearing a suit, fitted tight to his body, his hair swept back tidily, his face now clean of the rough stubble that was present the day before. His jawline lost none of its sharpness without it.
“Which is yours?” I asked as I followed in his wake, struggling slightly to keep up on the icy ground.
“Right here,” he said, stopping at an Aston Martin. There were a few rich kids that I knew in my dorms, but Kyle's car still stood out like a sore thumb. I felt particularly embarrassed by the fact that he was parked directly opposite my own clapped out banger.
He opened the passenger door for me and I stepped into the lush brown leather interior. The door opposite opened and he ducked in himself, gunning the engine which roared to life. A burst of heat hit my face as he turned on the heater - warm air, nothing else, not like the heater in my car that carried a heavy stink to it.
He gripped the gear stick like a racing driver and hit the accelerator, sending the car lurching forward like a bullet.
“How far is it,” I asked over the roar of the engine. I wasn't overly fond of fast driving, especially over ice.
“Not far,” he said, glancing over to me with a slight wink. “Settle in, we'll be there soon.”
He wasn't lying. It only took ten or so minutes before the car began slowing and he pulled into a car park on the side of the road.
I opened the door and stepped out myself before he could round the car to open it for me. This wasn't a date, just a job interview. Let's keep it all official.
The concierge at the front of the restaurant stood to attention immediately as Kyle walked through the front doors. “Mr Logan, your table is all prepared for you as you like it.”
“Thank you Tim,” he said, slipping him a note as he led us through the main restaurant towards a door at the back. It looked like a $50 bill.
The concierge opened the door to a small-ish room, a single table in the middle, a bottle of champagne sitting in a cooler to the side. “I'll send your waiter in for your order shortly Mr Logan.”
Kyle nodded again and the man left, shutting the door behind us and plunging the room into silence. The room was simple and doused in reds across the walls, the lighting dim and romantic.
“I enjoy a level of privacy when I dine,” Kyle said, seeing the look on my face. “It allows me to speak freely, without prying ears.”
He walked to the table and pulled out my chair. “Please, take a seat.”
I sat as he reached for the bottle of champagne in the cooler and poured two glasses. He handed one to me before sitting down, holding his glass aloft and saying “cheers.”
I felt suddenly awkward. This wasn't what I was expecting at all - champagne, a private dining room. I thought we'd be off to Nando's for a chicken dinner and a quick chat. At least that's what I usually got on my dates.
“You're a brave girl, aren't you Alice,” he said suddenly as he placed his glass back down on the table.
A shot of nerves pulsed through my body at his words. “How do you mean?”
“Perhaps brave is the wrong word - trusting might be more appropriate. I'm not sure many girls would have agreed to take this date after the way we met!”
Date - it was just a job interview/dinner, that's the only way I was looking at it.
“I suppose so, but I don't have the luxury of being picky.”
His face turned to a frown. “I'd have thought that someone as beautiful as you could be as picky as they like?”
“Oh, no, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm talking about the job - this is a job date isn't it? An interview?”
His voice suddenly hardened, it's light tone thickening. “Yes, it is.”
There was a short silence before he spoke again.
“So tell me, are you working right now?”
I put on my official voice, my interview voice. “Not currently, no.”
“But you're looking for work? What sort of thing are you interested in?”
I could feel the desperation creeping into my voice, my words being rushed out. “Um yes, anything really. Like I told you before, I've got lots of experience waiting tables and working behind the bar. Um, I'm a quick learner and am reliable, hard-working...”
He held up his hand to silence me and my words dropped to the floor. “Alice, you don't need to read me your CV.”
My body deflated slightly and I could feel my face going slightly red - it always did that when I felt embarrassed.
“There are other characteristics you possess, other than being hard-working and reliable, that I am interested in.”
My eyes narrowed slightly, my brows falling down over them. “Like what?”
“The work is largely looks based. It isn't a matter of experience and skills. What you know currently is irrelevant.”
I was getting really confused now. “Looks based?”
“Yes Alice. You're a stunning young girl. You don't seem to realize that. You hide it.”
I looked down at the table as his eyes pierced me. I never saw myself like that, never made the effort to look as good as I could like other girls. With everything going on in my life the idea of being good looking wasn't thatimportant to me, it hadn't been since I was younger.
“Alice, I don't like to waste anyone's time and I certainly don't like to have my time wasted. It's precious, and one commodity I'm not going to get back. So, let me be very open and honest with you.”
He paused and took a sip of champagne.
“The club I run has a very specific clientele, and they have very specific tastes. They like to watch beautiful women remove their clothing and dance. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.”
Yeah I knew what he was talking about. A strip club - he must have been f*cking kidding me.
“Stripping, you want me to work as a stripper?” I said incredulously.
He nodded lightly, as if it was a completely normal request. “I told you I'd be frank and that's what I'm doing. I'm not going to sugar coat it Alice, but suffice to say there are levels that our girls agree to. Some just dance in their underwear, others strip topless, and others go nude. It is up to you what you agree to, but the money reflects the level of skin on show.”
Screw this. I thought I was going to be interviewed for bar work or waiting tables, not this. What the hell did this guy take me for.
“I can see what you're thinking Alice,” he said, interrupting my train of thought. “I've seen the same look in the eyes of so many girls: that look of disgust, or superiority. It's an understandable reaction, one I'd expect from anyone. But just think - you could earn in one night what you'd make in a month waiting tables. And what are you really doing? Showing off your beautiful body, something you should be proud of, be happy to share. The club isvery exclusive, no riff raff, no touching, no busy hands. We take care of our girls - no one f*cks with them.”
He was making it sound like that's where my objection lay - that I was worried about handsy customers and leering drunks. No, what I was worried about was dancing for money, standing there in front of someone in my birthday suit. I'd fallen, but not that low.
I stood up from the table to leave, ready to storm out and leave him there alone. As I turned from the table he spoke once more, his words carrying to my ears in the quiet of the room.
“It's all private, all monitored, all one on one,” he continued calmly, his voice not raising, like he'd been through this routine so many times. “Think about it Alice, you're a real prize, you're a stunning girl. Use it.”
I stopped halfway to the door as he spoke, my back to him. “I'm sorry,” I said, “it's just not me,” before stepping once more towards the exit and disappearing out into the busy restaurant.