Massive Security Giant Number Two gave them all a panoramic, all encompassing scowl, before lumbering back into the club.
They got to the door, each paying the exorbitant fifty dollar cover charge and walked inside.
Peaches had never seen anything like it.
Dark colored velvet walls and booths bought to mind a cheesy seventies movie set. The actual stage was U shaped, with poles at either end and in the curve of the horseshoe. Currently, only one woman was onstage. She was a blond if you were going by her wig. Her body was spectacular. She was able to perform world class gymnast-like feats without ever having had the benefit of a coach. Clear plastic platform heels dangled in the air, her breasts swinging like firm pendulums. The men went wild as she finished her number, throwing Satin Doll’s currency at her feet, whistles and catcalls following.
Any woman who had never been on the inside of a strip club always wondered what went on inside. What was the draw? Why were men so bonkers over women who took their clothes off and shook their asses around?
For starters, these women all had A+ bodies. The dancers were wearing tiny thongs and the cocktail waitresses were in shiny, black boy shorts. But they were all topless. The women dancing on stage were completely, butt-ass naked. And the lap dances? Sex. Pure sex. One girl was standing on her hands, butt gyrating and jingling upside down.
Peaches gulped.
If she did go undercover here, she was clearly not flexible enough to be a dancer. Clearly.
She watched as the next dancer onstage—a girl with long, curling, red weave—slid into a vertical split on the brass pole that was both her sex toy and her stage prop. How the hell? Peaches stopped, watching amazed. She leaned her head to the side, unconsciously following the strippers movements. She was now fairly close to the stage. Close enough to see the girl’s diamond studded nipple rings twinkling in the dim lights, a matching ring in her...
Peaches gulped again.
The girl effortlessly came out of the split, wrapping admirably muscled thighs sinuously around the pole and slowly sliding down. She winked, blowing Peaches a kiss. Blushing, she hurried along.
“I think she likes you, Peach” Polo said, bobbing his head to the earsplitting rap blasting out of unseen speakers.
“Get me a damn drink and shut the hell up,” Peaches hissed out of the side of her mouth.
Peaches sat down at an empty table in the far corner of the room, attempting in vain to cover legs exposed nearly to the tops of her thighs in the tiny dress. Realizing it was a futile exercise, she gave up.
Using the opportunity to observe, she swept the room with her eyes. Once you got past your initial dazzling impression, it looked like any old strip club; gaudy strobe lights, naked girls, a couple of bars and too many lusting men to count.
She perked up, noticing another Massive Security Giant (was that three or four?) standing in front of a door on the other side of the room. As she watched, a couple spoke to him. He consulted a clipboard sitting on a stool by his side, nodded his head and opened the door. The couple quickly disappeared down a flight of stairs.
Well, wasn’t that interesting? Perhaps that was the entrance to the shady basement area Stick had mentioned.
While pondering this information, a girl came jingling over, the customary navel ring glittering in the deep recesses of her belly. Her waist was trim and tiny, the buns in the tight boy shorts nothing short of astronomical. Her eyes, as she looked at Peaches, were curious.
“Can I get you a drink, sweetie?” she asked. A West Indian accent hovered around the edges of her speech. Peaches did all she could to avoid the sight of the small bared breasts sprinkled with pink glitter. Her large, brown nipples were standing at attention. For that matter, so were Peaches. It was cold.
“No, I’m fine,” she replied with a polite nod. “Hey, real quick,” Peaches dug into her purse, whipping out the picture of Lenny. “Have you ever seen this guy before?”
The girl shook her head.
“Thanks anyway,” Peaches put the picture back. Well, that was one down.
The girl wandering off to service other thirsty customers. Peaches watched as a Rick Ross look-alike two tables over slapped her butt. The girl giggled, undulated her buttocks in response. This behavior garnered generous tips stuffed directly into the waistline of her boy shorts.
Since Polo was taking so long, she put the time to good use, going around and flipping Lenny’s photo out to any waitress she laid eyes on. One after the other, each waitress shook her head no. One girl hesitated for a long moment, but in the end, she too shook her head in the negative.
She needed to talk to the dancers. But how? If they weren’t onstage, they were doing lap dances, clearly far too busy ass-shaking to be bothered with looking at pictures of a dead man.
The answer to her questions lay in a door to the immediate right of the stage. It wasn’t being guarded by any Security Giant so it was fair game to try and get inside. She supposed it could just be a supply closet. But as she watched a dancer popped out, shimmying up to a table of two men.
Looking around, she quickly made her move, strolling over to the door as though she belonged. Trying the handle, she was disappointed, but not surprised to see that it was locked.
“Can I help you?”
Startled, Peaches squeaked, turning around. Massive Security Giant Number Two had somehow managed to glide across the room like a Ninja. The last time she had seen him she could’ve sworn he was manning the door. Nope. That would be Massive Security Giant Number Four. He was the newest goon to be added to her even lengthening cast of shady characters. Good Lord. What prison system were these guy’s mass produced in?
“No—no,” Peaches said, swallowing hard and trying to still her thumping heart. “I’m good”
“Were you trying that door?” he asked, eyes narrowed, massive neck swallowed up in rolls of—believe it or not--muscular fat. Yep, there was a first for everything.
“No, I was not,” Peaches said, calmly. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to find my date.”
Orbiting around his body, Peaches hustled her way back to the other side of the club, trying to get as far away from the glaring mutant as she could before she ended up on the wrong side of his Roid Rage.
Well, that was a failure. It was going to be nearly impossible to talk to any strippers when most of them were either working or preparing to work. She would be better off returning during off hours.
Didn’t mean she couldn’t check and see what was going on down in that basement though. That is if Polo ever returned.
Thirty minutes later, Polo finally showed up with her drink, his already half empty.
“What the hell took you so long?” she demanded, snatching her lukewarm Heinekin and downing half of it in less than one minute.
“Line was long at the bar,” he said, unapologetically. “Then I got mixed up with watchin’ this stripper give a lap dance to a homeboy I bumped into. That bitch was freeeeeeky!” He took a quick sip from what looked like a Whisky Sour, his favorite drink. “What can I say? We in a strip club and I’m doin’ what nigga’s do.”
“Whatever.” The Heinekin was coursing through her body, giving her the bravery she needed for the rest of what would probably be a long evening.
“Hey,” Peaches said, the beginnings of a bright idea cooking in her brain. “How about I pay to get you a private dance? I didn’t get you anything for your birthday so I owe you one.”
“You for real, Peach,” Polo asked, eyes sparkling.
“Yeah, why not?”
Yeah, she was using Polo again, but it was for a good cause and he’d be getting a down and dirty private dance to boot. It was an even exchange. Besides, she couldn’t see how else she might figure out where the couple had gone.
“It’s a hundred dollars--,”
“What?” Peaches screeched. She had planned on paying fifty at the most. Jeez.
“It ain’t cheap to get first rate ass grindin’ around on y
our lap, Peach. Quality costs.”
“Yeah, well, they’re not that high class,” Peaches griped.
“Why we here again? Cause it don’t look like you havin’ fun, Peach.”
“Somebody I’m looking for,” she said, airily.
He took another sip from his drink, looking around. Then all of a sudden he became stock still, swiveling his neck and narrowing accusing eyes at her.
“No…you…fuckin’…didn’t,” Polo said, standing back with the look of one who realizes he’s been duped. “You detectin’, ain’t you?”
“Maybe.” She figured she may as well tell him the truth.
“Damn, Peach!” he exclaimed, sucking down the rest of his drink and glaring at her testily. “It’s some bad nigga’s that run this place. I don’t wanna get mixed up in nothin’ dangerous. Besides, I like this club. The girls is fine as hell and they let you BYOB if they shit ain’t together.”
“I understand and I’m sorry. But I needed you to come ‘cause you said you knew the people up in here. Plus, maybe I am looking for a job. Maybe you can manage me, after all. It doesn’t look all that bad.” This lie uttered as the girl on stage slid into a tumble that left her legs spread wide, her expertly trimmed pussy there for the world to see.
“Well--,” he hesitated, that crafty glint in his eye once again. There was an internal fight between his desires to preserve his safety and greed. Greed—as it always did with Polo—won the day. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay a few. But don’t do no dumb shit, Peach.”
“Just looking for a girl,” she lied, soothingly. Technically she was looking for a girl. She just didn’t know which one. “This won’t take too long. I just need you to do me one teensy little favor…”
**
“I ain’t going down there with you! Are you crazy?”
Polo was staring at her as if she had flown off to the cuckoo’s nest. His drink was long gone. He was now gripping the ice filled plastic tumbler as though his life depended on it. He tossed a few of the ice cubes in his mouth, munching nervously.
“All I need you to do is walk with me over to the basement door. I’ll do the rest,” Peaches said, cajolingly.
“Do you see that big nigga standing over by the basement door?” he squawked, jerking his head in the general direction of Massive Security Giant Number Three. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but there ain’t no way you’re gonna get past him.”
“He does present a bit of a problem…”
“A bit of a problem, Peach. That shit’s an understatement. He is the problem.”
“How do you move the immovable object, Polo?”
“What? So you talkin’ in riddles now? I don’t know,” he groused.
“You make it come to you.”
**
Anton warily eyed the giggling, stumbling couple headed in his direction, their drinks sloshing out of their cups to the floor. He stood up taller, his back to the basement door. You had to be ready for anything at this club. But this couple looked too drunk to do more than be a nuisance.
The girl was hot. A little old for his normal tastes, but her big tits more than made up for being a cougar. What did she see in that little guy she was with? If that’s how low her standards were, he could more than fulfill her needs.
“Hey--,” the girl said, a sloppy grin on her face. “Where’s da bathroom? My friend-boy--,” At this, she broke out into wild giggles, falling into Anton’s arms. The heavy smell of booze entered his nostrils. “Did you hear me? I said ‘friend-boy instead of boyfriend?”
“I heard you, baby!” her boyfriend guffawed, merrily slapping his thighs and spilling more of his drink.
“Watch your drink, man,” Anton warned, taking a cautious step to the side as the guy’s drink spillage got too close for comfort to his new Timberland boots.
Enjoying the feel of the woman in his arms, he reluctantly stood her up. In doing so, two things happened at once: her drink splattered all over his custom made, silk dress shirt and her tits popped out of their too small dress.
“Fuck!” he cursed, holding his shirt out for inspection and goggling at her breasts at the same time. Even working at a strip club her tits were something to behold. That was some set. God damn!
“Oopsyyyy!” the girl sing-songed, drunkenly attempting, without much luck, to stuff her breasts back inside her dress. “Let me help you with that.”
Before he could say anything, she was clumsily smearing his shirt with the inadequate cocktail napkin beneath her cup and dumping the remainder of the wildly swishing liquid on his shoes.
“Dab! Dab! Don’t wipe!” he squealed, alarmed. “That’s silk!”
“Ok.” Peaches began to dab in an exaggeratedly circular manner.
“Stop! That’s enough!” he roared, good and aggravated.
“I’m shorry,” she said, weaving on her feet. “Oh, I don’t feel so good. Let me sit down.” She plopped onto an empty barstool to his right.
“You alright, baby,” her boyfriend asked, rushing forth. He tried to adjust her top and she furiously slapped his hands away.
Anton wavered, trapped between wanting to stay and guard the basement door, which he was never supposed to leave, and wanting to save the expensive shirt he had purchased online a scant week before. It was when the guy started loudly humming, ‘You Are So Beautiful’ by Lionel Richie, that decided him. These two were too drunk to do any harm to anyone but themselves.
Rolling his eyes, he made a beeline for the employee bathroom on the other side of the club. It should be okay. He wouldn’t be gone but a minute.
**
“Damn, Peach. That was a good piece of actin’,” Polo enthused. “And the tits popping out? That made the shit that much more authentic.”
“That was an accident,” she muttered, face hot.
“Really? Well—I was completely convinced.”
“And please don’t ever try to help me with a wardrobe malfunction again.”
“I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“Not even,” Peaches said, her hand on the doorknob. “Alright. Here goes nothing,” She just wanted to put the entire mortifying incident behind her. She grimaced. She smelled like crap. After pouring a bit of booze on her dress for authenticity, she truly smelled like a drunk. “Just keep a look out for that guy. Don’t want to know what he might do if he caught us.”
“Us?” Polo sputtered. “You, Peach. This is all you.”
Ignoring him, she cautiously slipped down the dimly lit stairs; tipping as well as she could in her increasingly painful heels. Reaching the base of the stairwell, her eyes finally adjusted to the badly lit hall she was standing in.
Peaches took a good look around. She must’ve fallen through the rabbit hole into Wonderland. Either that or someone had gotten real creative and decided to paint the doors in a blinding rainbow of colors.
There were six doors: yellow, red and purple on the left, blue, green and purple on the right. Starting with the blue door, she gingerly turned the knob on the thin, plywood patched door. Brooms, mops, a bucket and other cleaning supplies glared at her from the other side. Unless they had mopped him to death, more likely than not, no crime had occurred in here.
Closing the closet door, she headed for the purple one to her left. Feeling a bit bolder, she unhesitatingly opened the door, then stood stock still, mouth hanging open. She believed it was the couple who had gone down into the basement earlier. My but they were busy little bunnies. The woman was completely naked, knees pressed into a dingy little cot shoved up against the wall. Despite having an audience, she continued getting it doggy style from a man whose pants were pulled down to his ankles. Pumping for all he was worth, the cot squealed with each movement.
“What the fuck you want? Can’t you see we busy in here?” the girl snarled, blowing an errant strand of maroon wig hair out of her eyes.
“Oh—I’m sorry,” she said, faintly. “Didn’t—didn’t know this room was occupied.”
&
nbsp; Heart hammering, Peaches gently closed the door, uncertain if she would ever recover from this experience.
Hesitant again, Peaches listened at the next door. Silence. She had just pushed the door open when her cell phone vibrated. She walked inside while reading the message.
“Hury up. Tht bg nigas on his way bk.”
Then, she’d have to make this quick. Shutting the door behind her, she quickly scanned the room. There wasn’t much there. Just another of those dingy cots, a bagless trash bin and a candy jar filled with cheap condoms atop a small table. Turning to leave, she spied a piece of paper shoved into a forgotten corner behind the door. She scooped it up, peering at it, her heart picking up its pace upon realizing the significance of the find.
It was the ragged half of a Big Pete’s sweepstakes stub.
So maybe he had been down here the day he was killed. His body was found the day after he won the money at Big Pete’s. Suppose Lenny had come to the strip cub for a little celebration following his big win? Made sense. Still, she was a long way from being able to say someone at Satin Doll’s had anything to do with Lenny’s murder.
Stuffing the stub in her purse, her cell phone buzzed again.
“Tht nigas almost hre! Whre u @? U nt getn me kilt!”
Hurrying towards the staircase, she came to an abrupt halt when the door above opened and closed with a loud bang. The sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs put Peaches in panic overload. With little thought beyond needing to escape, Peaches shoved open the nearest door, which just happened to be the room in which the maroon-wigged stripper and her John were still going at it.
“Bitch, you again? What the fuck you want now?” the girl demanded, angrily. “You ain’t bout to get paid up in here. This a one woman show.”
This time she and her client were lying on the cot. She had been energetically bouncing around on top of him before Peaches interrupted her work.
“No—no. When I saw ya’ll earlier I just started feeling a little freaky, is all,” Peaches replied, wildly ad libbing, all the while straining to hear what was happening on the other side of the door.
“Well, I don’t do no threesomes, bitch. So get the fuck out,” the girl retorted, nastily. She started grinding her hips against the guy’s again, ignoring Peaches.
“I’ll pay you double for it, Mooney. Whatcha say?” The guy looked excited at the prospect of two women. Too excited.