Dr. Stanton Box Set - T. L. Swan Page 0,17

club where men can come and take pleasure in looking at intelligent, untouched women—women who are putting themselves through college and doing this for their precious children. They know that every single woman here is something special.

Untouched women. Does that mean that I might meet women who are just like me and trying to make ends meet to get through college? She did say that the women who work there are all young professionals.

Women who want a better life for their kids…

I sip my coffee, deep in thought as I twist the ring on my finger. Maybe she says that to everyone who applies. The girls are probably all druggy smack heads. I can’t imagine decent women ever working there. But with that kind of money, I sort of can. I drag myself back out to my car, and then I pull out into the traffic, for some reason finding myself driving straight back to Club Exotic, where I park the car across the road in the darkness. I’ll just ring Jenna and tell her I am on my way home soon.

She picks up first ring. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“I didn’t go in.”

“What? Why not?”

I shrug. “I can’t work in a brothel, Jen.”

She stays silent on the other end of the phone.

“I‘ll get another job somewhere else.”

“You said it was a club.”

“It is...” I hesitate. “But there’s this VIP section, too, so effectively it’s a brothel.”

“The VIP section is not where you are working.”

“Yes, but some men are there for sex and sex alone.”

“Okay, so every nightclub in the United States of America, actually the world, is basically a brothel, too, then.”

I frown. “How?” Trust her to be all Devil’s advocate on me when I really just need her to agree with my cowardice.

“I guestimate that sixty percent of men in nightclubs are there for sex.”

I listen in silence.

“So, do you mean to tell me you won’t go to a nightclub because men are just there for sex?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s different.”

“How? You tell me how? You need a job. You have a babysitter at night. It’s one or two nights a week, Ash, and it’s behind the bloody bar.”

“She wants me to topless waitress.”

“Just say no.”

I think for a moment.

“Go in, see what it’s about, and if you feel uncomfortable walk out and don’t go back.”

I roll my lips and think as my eyes rise to a group of men disappearing into the club.

“Look, even the bloody bar jobs pay three fifty a night. For two shifts that’s seven -hundred a week, Ash. How could you earn that money while working full time for free at the hospital?”

I run my finger over my steering wheel as I think.

“You would have to be stupid to not even check it out. Hell, I’m thinking I might apply there, too.”

I smile as I imagine her walking around topless. “Now you are being ridiculous.”

“Yes, and you are being a prude.”

“What if Owen ever found out?” I sigh.

“Found out what? His mother worked behind a bar while she was studying to be a surgeon. I think Owen would be bloody proud that his mother got a second job to put a roof over his head.”

I slide back into my seat. Maybe she’s right…

“Just go in and see what they say.”

My eyes stay fixed on the door across the road.

“You don’t know anyone here, Ash. For the first time ever you can be whoever you want to be… and if that’s a part-time nympho, then so be it. It could actually be fun.”

I smile softly.

“Go in and make some new friends. Hell, tomorrow morning you will be cooking breakfast, making beds, and scrubbing fucking bathrooms. Enjoy being someone else for the night.”

I run my hand through my hair. “Do you think I look okay?” I ask.

“Yes, smoking hot. The guys will all cream their pants when they catch sight of you.”

I laugh as I look down at the dress I’m wearing. A camel, woolen ribbed dress, fitted with short-capped sleeves, which falls to my calves. It’s tight and sexy without being revealing or cheap. I have high, strappy tan sandals on, and my honey-colored hair is down and full with set curls. Jen did my makeup, I have smoky eyes and a pink gloss on my lips.

I look good, I know I look good, but for a place like this, I have no idea if it is appropriate.

“Are you going in?” she asks.

My heart jumps in my chest. “Yeah, I guess.” I pause as

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