breasts and a butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth, wide-eyed, innocent stare that had patrons of the club reaching for their wallets in reflex.
Jada was the opposite to Skye in every way: breathtaking, tall and imposing, with narrow hips and swimmer’s shoulders. Her cheekbones were a sculptural miracle, and her mouth was so wide and full she didn’t like to smile too much; she called it the grin that ate her face.
‘Better that way,’ Maria said drily. ‘You got a shot at staying friends.’
Skye grinned, acknowledging the truth of this.
‘Come on, girlfriend!’ she said, grabbing Jada’s hand, winking at Maria over her shoulder. ‘Time to empty out some wallets!’
The main floor of the Midnight Lounge was already half full at six in the evening. In a couple of hours, it would be packed. And Skye and Jada, striding in through the double doors at the back of the club, the bouncer stationed there nodding at them as they made their entrance, were the queens of the club. Even though there were girls gyrating on the poles, writhing on the lit-up stage, all the men’s heads turned at the sight of the dark Amazon and her blonde little baby-doll friend.
Skye wiggled up to the bar in her four-inch-high Lucite heels and flashed a smile at the bartender.
‘Set us up, honey,’ she said. And, turning to the guy on the stool beside her, who was goggling at the sight of her: ‘What’s your name, sexy?’
After a lot of throat-clearing, he managed to get out:‘Marvin,’ his eyes flickering between her boobs and her face as if he didn’t know which he wanted to focus on.
‘Well, Marvin honey, ever heard of buying two beautiful girls a drink or three?’ she said.
Marvin was already fumbling for his wallet. He looked like most guys who came into the Midnight Lounge: white, forty-something, in a suit, with an office drone haircut. Faceless, instantly forgettable.
‘You want some Kamikazes too?’ the bartender asked him, and although he was working on a beer, Marvin nodded enthusiastically, only too keen to join the girls.
Men, Skye thought, rolling her eyes. If I said, ‘Jump,’ he wouldn’t even wait to ask, ‘How high?’ He’d just do it first and ask questions later. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
Skye shot a quick, practised glance round the club. Plenty of fish here. And plenty of them were staring in her direction, at her small round arse covered, barely, in a narrow strip of gold stretch Lycra. She’d make thousands tonight. She could smell the money in the air. The Saturday night shift, six p.m. to four a.m.: ten hours’ work at maybe a grand an hour, if she worked everyone just right. God knew why men wanted to blow their paycheque on her when they could get laid for a fraction of the notes they so eagerly stuffed in her bra, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.
The Kamikazes were set up now: tequila, triple sec and lime, with a champagne float from a freshly opened bottle, the Midnight Lounge version of an old-school classic. The champagne, of course, made them way more expensive. And that was exactly the point.
‘One in each hand,’ Skye told Marvin, ‘you ready?’
He nodded, wide-eyed, unable to talk – unable, almost, to breathe with excitement.
This is why they spend the big bucks, Skye thought. They tell themselves we’re actually hanging out with them because we want to. Finally, the cheerleaders who snubbed them in high school are listening to their jokes and laughing like they’re funny. Right now, all over Manhattan, guys are buying girls twenty-dollar drinks and kidding themselves the girls are hanging out with them for their conversation, when the girls are in it for the free Cosmos and hitting on the bartender behind their date’s back. At least here we’re honest about it.
She smiled at the thought, a chipmunk-cute, cheek-dimpling, white-teeth-flashing smile that was so dazzling it nearly made Marvin drop his shot glasses.
‘One!’ Jada said, and they
Jada was the opposite to Skye in every way: breathtaking, tall and imposing, with narrow hips and swimmer’s shoulders. Her cheekbones were a sculptural miracle, and her mouth was so wide and full she didn’t like to smile too much; she called it the grin that ate her face.
‘Better that way,’ Maria said drily. ‘You got a shot at staying friends.’
Skye grinned, acknowledging the truth of this.
‘Come on, girlfriend!’ she said, grabbing Jada’s hand, winking at Maria over her shoulder. ‘Time to empty out some wallets!’
The main floor of the Midnight Lounge was already half full at six in the evening. In a couple of hours, it would be packed. And Skye and Jada, striding in through the double doors at the back of the club, the bouncer stationed there nodding at them as they made their entrance, were the queens of the club. Even though there were girls gyrating on the poles, writhing on the lit-up stage, all the men’s heads turned at the sight of the dark Amazon and her blonde little baby-doll friend.
Skye wiggled up to the bar in her four-inch-high Lucite heels and flashed a smile at the bartender.
‘Set us up, honey,’ she said. And, turning to the guy on the stool beside her, who was goggling at the sight of her: ‘What’s your name, sexy?’
After a lot of throat-clearing, he managed to get out:‘Marvin,’ his eyes flickering between her boobs and her face as if he didn’t know which he wanted to focus on.
‘Well, Marvin honey, ever heard of buying two beautiful girls a drink or three?’ she said.
Marvin was already fumbling for his wallet. He looked like most guys who came into the Midnight Lounge: white, forty-something, in a suit, with an office drone haircut. Faceless, instantly forgettable.
‘You want some Kamikazes too?’ the bartender asked him, and although he was working on a beer, Marvin nodded enthusiastically, only too keen to join the girls.
Men, Skye thought, rolling her eyes. If I said, ‘Jump,’ he wouldn’t even wait to ask, ‘How high?’ He’d just do it first and ask questions later. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.
Skye shot a quick, practised glance round the club. Plenty of fish here. And plenty of them were staring in her direction, at her small round arse covered, barely, in a narrow strip of gold stretch Lycra. She’d make thousands tonight. She could smell the money in the air. The Saturday night shift, six p.m. to four a.m.: ten hours’ work at maybe a grand an hour, if she worked everyone just right. God knew why men wanted to blow their paycheque on her when they could get laid for a fraction of the notes they so eagerly stuffed in her bra, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.
The Kamikazes were set up now: tequila, triple sec and lime, with a champagne float from a freshly opened bottle, the Midnight Lounge version of an old-school classic. The champagne, of course, made them way more expensive. And that was exactly the point.
‘One in each hand,’ Skye told Marvin, ‘you ready?’
He nodded, wide-eyed, unable to talk – unable, almost, to breathe with excitement.
This is why they spend the big bucks, Skye thought. They tell themselves we’re actually hanging out with them because we want to. Finally, the cheerleaders who snubbed them in high school are listening to their jokes and laughing like they’re funny. Right now, all over Manhattan, guys are buying girls twenty-dollar drinks and kidding themselves the girls are hanging out with them for their conversation, when the girls are in it for the free Cosmos and hitting on the bartender behind their date’s back. At least here we’re honest about it.
She smiled at the thought, a chipmunk-cute, cheek-dimpling, white-teeth-flashing smile that was so dazzling it nearly made Marvin drop his shot glasses.
‘One!’ Jada said, and they
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