What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome Page 0,7
which had led to a very sloppy Uber ride home. She rarely drank anymore, she couldn't afford to for a whole multitude of reasons, money of which was the least. But Charice could talk anyone into anything.
Val stumbled into the bathroom, then grimaced at her reflection. Her pale brown lipstick was smeared across the side of her face, and she couldn't tell whether it was because she'd slept on it, or because of Richard.
Richard. She laughed at the memory of him as she climbed into the shower. As far as “dates” went, he hadn't been a bad one, not at all. After making out in the Moon Room for a while, she'd taken him upstairs and introduced him to Charice, then left him there long enough to receive a “private lap dance”.
Later, when he'd been pulling his pants back up, Valentine had tugged him into the Body Painting Room. He'd gawked at her while she'd undressed, then actually trembled while she'd undressed him. They'd only been in their underwear, yet he'd acted as if they'd gotten naked together. Then she'd painted his back in day-glo orange, and allowed him to paint her front in pink and green, before shoving him against the wall. Then they'd kissed while rolling around in the paint, leaving body prints in their wake.
Three hours was her limit, she'd been oh so sad to tell him, but Richard had been too hyped up to let her go. Whether it was adrenaline or coke or ecstasy, she hadn't known, but when he'd shoved another three hundred dollars into her palm, she hadn't argued. She'd simply put her clothing back on, then she'd shown him a few more hidden gems in Caché. Introduced him to some secret rooms that were reserved for VIPs, and for clients who were paying for extra services.
Like Val.
Then she'd finally pawned him off on Charice again. The woman was insatiable, and she loved them young, dumb, and full of cum, as it were. Before he'd disappeared between those large breasts, Richard had apologized for ditching Val, which she'd found laughable, and then he'd done the inevitable.
“I had a great time. Could I maybe see you again?”
They always asked. Silly men. Didn't they know she was just another Fun Room at Casa de Caché?
She'd given him a wink and a kiss, then shoved him into Charice's waiting arms. That was the last she saw of him.
“But at least he was nice,” she sighed out loud as she got out of the shower.
Marco DelVecchio paid her to be a dancer, technically. That's what it said on her job application, on her W4. And she had been just a go-go dancer for her first three nights. But Del could smell desperation a hundred miles away, and he'd seen what a hot commodity Valentine could be, and he'd swooped in for the kill on her fourth night.
She could just show up and dance and look pretty, he'd told her. Pretty girls drew in the guys, after all, and Valentine was very pretty. A slender, leggy five-foot-six, she knew she could turn heads when she put her mind to it. Her big brown eyes were the exact same shade as her long, thick hair, both of which complimented her tan skin. As if that all weren't enough, god had blessed with her breasts that were large on her somewhat petite frame – she hadn't had to pay for her own drinks in years, her chest got them for free. A killer fashion sense and a gift for doing makeup all totaled into a stunning package.
A package Del thought people would be very interested in purchasing.
She could do more than just dance, though, he'd continued with his offer. She wouldn't have to sleep with anybody, he'd sworn, not if she didn't want to. Never. She'd make minimum wage so long as she showed up and danced. But if she did want to make a lot more money, she could be something else. Be an escort for the club. Make the men feel extra special; make them feel like they were the king of the club of clubs. Give them a hint of a fantasy – a taste – for just a night, for just a small cost.
All she had to do was give Del one hundred dollars out of every three she made, and they were golden. He would offer the club and his protection in return. And hey, if she did ever want to do the boom boom