Good Girl Gone Bad Read Online Free PDF Page B

cornflower blue eyes showed compassion. Phil looked hard at her. Her gut reaction was that Tammy didn’t have it in her to kidnap anyone. She’d felt the same about Candi, but her training had taught her never to take a person at face value.
    “Hey, Tammy,” Candi called. “This is Katharine, a new cocktail.”
    Tammy slowed her hurried pace to a stop in front of Phil and smiled. Extending her hand, she said, “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve got costume issues, so I’ll give you the abbreviated version of the facts of life around here.” She let go of Phil’s hand and angled her head. “First rule, cleanliness is next to godliness. Keep yourself clean at all times and don’t overload the perfume. If you get your period, cut the string of your tampon short enough so even at close quarters it can’t be seen. If you smoke, wash your hands regularly and invest in gallons of Scope. Rule two, if you’re late, you pay. You’re fined two dollars for every minute you’re late, and we go by Bud’s bar clock. I suggest you synchronize before you leave tonight. Rule three, you’ll have your own locker next to the dancers’ dressing room. Even if you’re invited in there, it’s off limits unless you dance. Rule four, if you end up on the stage, twenty-five percent of your tips go to the house. And speaking of the house, we aren’t a whorehouse. Anyone pushes it, let me know, or the manager.”
    Tammy took a deep breath and called to a brunette dancer who came strutting from backstage in nothing more than a G-string. “I’ll be right there, Misty.”
    She turned back to Phil. “Any questions?”
    Even if she did, Phil realized now was not the time. Tammy was on a mission that didn’t involve Phil. She’d play the good worker. “No, ma’am.”
    Tammy nodded and moved past them both. “If any come to mind, ask, don’t assume. And my name is Tammy or you can call me Mom, you pick, but don’t call me ‘ma’am’ again.”
    Phil couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Tammy.”
    The redhead hurried off, ushering the nearly naked dancer backstage.
    “She’s really not that hard, unless you break the rules,” Candi said.
    “I don’t plan on breaking the rules. I need this job.”
    “Then you’d best get ready to get to work. In a few minutes the boss man will be coming in to make sure all the ladies showed up, and he’ll be doing an inspection. He’s a looker, too.” Candi smiled and popped her gum. “Oh, and speaking of territory, I have dibs on him.”
    Phil shrugged. The thought of dating anyone who worked in this seedy atmosphere gave her the willies. Although Klub Kashmir was touted as the premier gentlemen’s club in Lansdowne, it was what it was, a strip club. The girls were served up in the back rooms for private lap dances as effortlessly as alcohol was ordered at the bar. She shivered at the thought of dancing so intimately close to a stranger, taking her clothes off, rubbing up against him, feeling the hard ridge of his privates against the fabric of his pants, him smelling her sex.
    Candi continued her quick tutorial on life as a cocktailer. “You don’t have to worry about clients touching you during a lap dance. They can’t. Mr. Z. could lose his license, so he forbids us to allow the clients even to breathe on us. But to make sure, there’s always a bouncer standing in a dark corner of the room.”
    “I’m a cocktailer, Candi, not a dancer.”
    “That doesn’t matter, honey, lots of cocktailers get asked to lap dance. Big bucks.”
    “You mean, one of the clients can just say they want me for a lap dance and I have to do it?”
    Candi laughed, happily chomping her gum. “Sure. Why not?”
    A wave of warmth permeated Phil’s skin. She visualized herself dancing with her eyes closed, pretending the man beneath her taut thighs and heated pussy was her lieutenant, with no bouncer lurking in the shadows. She gasped. Oh Lord, not him .
    “You okay, honey?” Candi asked, tightening