Hey y'all. Hope you enjoy this first chapter. Obviously don't own Glee. I'll update usually once a week but I work midnights, so expect them on a vampires schedule.
The attendants at the prestigious Jefferson Hotel had their fair share of high class, wealthy, clients. They were well used to business men, media moguls, fashion princesses and celebrities; and their venue clearly represented that. Stepping into the Jefferson Hotel was akin to stepping into a royal palace. The glitz and glam with every modern amenity known to man, the Jefferson Hotel catered exclusively to Richmond's, and the worlds, finest. Every employee on the payroll of the Jefferson had their backgrounds as vigorously checked as if they worked for the government. Only the best of their fields were accepted to work in the hotel and every job, from the valet and the bellhops all the way to floor managers, were taken with the strictest seriousness. Valet boys knew the exact correct way to politely ogle and assist the female passenger from a Porsche 918 Spyder to receive a tip large enough to cover their rent for a month. Bellhops could tell the difference between a Louis Vuitton rolling luggage bag and a Dolce&Gabbana wheeled trolley at a glance; and knew the different smile and polite comment required for each style of women. Floor managers knew the name, net worth, income and home city of every client on their floor off the top of their head; and kept a running list of who ranked the highest by status and wealth.
It was common practice to have camera's near the entrance and around the hotel, media personal for the clients in the news such as senators, and mayors and paparazzi for the celebrities, and therefore all Jefferson employees were taught and strictly regulated in controlling their facial expressions. Employees faces must be calm at all times, always politely smiling but never smirking. Leering, ogling, gazing or any action that could be construed as admiring the body of a client was strictly prohibited. Polite eye contact at the initial greeting is required but prolonged staring is unacceptable. Protocol dictates employees must demurely lower their gazes as they complete their task so as they don't seem to challenge the authority of the higher class. Nearly a quarter of the thousands of security camera's inside and around the perimeter of the Jefferson were actually to watch the employees, and not the guests, for any hint of rule breaking; none of them would dare to. Their weekly paychecks belied the wealth of the Jefferson and their clients and most were well off in their own rights because of it.
That was why, on a completely unextraordinary Wednesday evening Will Schuester, the General Day Manager of the hotel, was floored completely stupid when he stepped into the main lobby of the hotel and found every employee within his sight standing slack jawed and motionless. He wanted to clap his hands and scream to get their attention but making a scene inside the Jefferson was one of the worst offences to commit. He briskly, but completely calmly and betraying no emotion on his face, walked to the nearest bellhop standing by the luggage racks and hissed quietly through his teeth. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
Finn Hudson, a slightly dimwitted but gentle giant of a man in his early twenties, barely even registered his bosses boss's voice nearly in his ear. He merely blinked several more times and nodded his head in the direction of the front double doors.
Will's breath had hitched in his throat before he'd even fully looked up all the way. There, actually posed in the front door and soaking up every gaze that was inevitably drawn to her, was the most gorgeous, sexy and impossibly beautiful woman he had ever seen. It wasn't just her beauty that stopped him, although that alone would have been enough to do it, it was how impossibly alluring she was. He found he was literally incapable of taking his eyes off of her. Her pose, left hand resting on her hip and a dangerous smirk painted across blood red pouting lips, simply screamed that she knew she owned the entire room.
Will was in a happily committed relationship but if the woman by the door asked him to drop down to his knees and never look at another woman again while he worshipped her he would simply be confused as to why she thought he would even consider looking at someone other than her. Her absolutely flawless tanned caramel, creamy mocha coloured skin gave her a faintly exotic look and her dark brunette, slightly curly tresses fell halfway down her back. Her figure left nothing to the imagination in the slinky, body hugging blood red dress she was wearing. The halter style, obviously designer dress, barely contained her chest which had every occupant, men and women, in the room drooling. Those that managed to drag their eyes farther down were rewarded with the sight of almost her entire left leg as the borderline scandalous slit in the gown reached all the way to her hipbone. Her feet were clad in strappy four inch stiletto heels, which gave a little more height to her rather petite stature.
The one section of Will's brain that was not busy sending blood to another region of his body registered that she held no purse and had no luggage at all with her.
She finally dropped her pose and began to strut cockily across the marble tiles of the hotel. The clicking of her heels, which sounded thunderous in the deadly silent lobby, snapped everyone's attention back to her face. Most of her features were hidden behind large black tinted Ray Bans but Will could still clearly make out that seemingly ever present smirk. The closer she got the harder it seemed for Will to remember how to breath; and if the prepubescent sounding panting coming from the rather large young man beside him was anything to byWill wasn't the only one having trouble.
The woman never faltered in her stride as she neared them and Will thought, though he couldn't be sure due to her sunglasses, that her gaze never even flickered over to them. She was almost already past them when she finally spoke. "I'm already checked into the penthouse." Her voice was like silk and just a hint raspy; Will's mouth went dry. She headed straight for the elevators and not a single soul in the lobby moved until they closed behind her and blocked her from view. Will, and all the others, let out strangled breaths like they'd been under water too long.
Inside the elevator the woman was left alone with an operator; a young boy of probably only eighteen attempting to stare diligently ahead at the numbered buttons. He'd instinctively hit the floor for the penthouses, for nobody who looked and acted like her was on any other floor.
The woman's one toe tapped a steady, mildly impatient, rhythm as the elevator rose. She pulled a cigar from within her generous cleavage and wrapped blood red lips around it. A small lighter was pulled next, from the slit in her dress where the boy whimpered at the glimpse of the garter she'd somehow been storing it in. She lit the cigar in one smooth motion and tucked the lighter into her cleavage. She inhaled deeply and released the smoke through her nose. She suddenly froze and her smirk grew; she turned just a hair to the right to look at the teenager. He shifted his legs awkwardly under her gaze which drew her attention down to his crotch; and the steadily growing bulge within them.
He cleared his throat and flushed a deep red and tried not to think about his extremely obvious boner. "Oh, don't worry, niño pequeño," she cooed at him; her voice may have been playful but the glint in her hidden eyes was deadly, "happens all the time." She suddenly reached out and gripped his cock through his jeans none too gently. A strangled moan escaped his throat and his legs threatened to collapse under him.
The elevator doors pinged open and woman stepped through immediately; she didn't let go of the boys dick though which resulted in her giving him a sharp tug before letting him slide through his fingers. He did collapse then, in a groaning and shaking heap on the elevator floor; the woman merely took another deep drag of her cigar as she walked away without second thought.
She walked down the hallway towards the end where she knew the Presidential Penthouse waited like she owned the entire building. She didn't; but the thought that if she wanted it she could have the signed deed in her hand in under ten minutes made her smirk a little wider. Flaunting and thinking about her power was basically the only thing left that still brought her any joy. She flicked the end of her cigar and ashed onto the carpeted floor without care. The closer she got to the penthouse suite the more her skin buzzed lightly; like there were tiny electrical surges happening across her skin. Her one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched. So they had started the party without her, she noted. She briefly considered kicking the ornate door in but after a sigh settled for making sure the door slammed when she thrust it open. Ten sets of eyes immediately snapped to her and she basked in the feeling of being powerful.
Seven of the eyes now staring, or rather ogling her, had lust blown pupils and facial expressions devoid of anything except desire. These she passed over for the other three sets of eyes; she wasn't sure she'd ever go as far as to call them her friends, for she had no emotional ties whatsoever, but they were at the least faithful business partners.
She met Puck's eyes first because she knew all she'd find behind his chocolate eyes was amusement and a little bit of lust himself. His well built and powerful body was draped across the posh leather sofa with his feet up on the glass coffee table. He was dressed simply in dark baggy jeans, a black wifebeater and a well worn leather jacket. His hair was cut into a Mohawk which made his chiselled features match his boy-like personality. The woman would have to admit that he was sexy; even if he was a lecherous pig.
She swung her gaze over to the other two cuddled on the opposite love seat and met Mercedes eyes and arched eyebrow. Mercedes had gorgeous dark chocolate skin and curves to simply die for. She was in a floor length black, sparkly gown and her feet were sheathed in bright purple fuck me pumps. Mercedes eyes held anticipation and grudging respect; and the touch of jealousy she always tried to hide.
She was finally forced to direct her gaze to the man Mercedes was snuggled up beside. Sam's eyes and lips were downturned in clear disappointment. His blonde shaggy hair just brushed the underside of his jaw and gave him a distinct California surfer look. He was a little leaner than Puck, less broad but just as muscled. He was dressed up more than Puck, but not quite as much as the two ladies, in a dark blue button up shirt and black dress slacks. His hazel eyes were practically shining in their disapproval and it made the woman clench her teeth. She was in no mood for one of his speeches.
Mercedes seemed to sense this and when Sam opened his mouth she lightly squeezed their clasped hands in warning.
The woman took a look around their new living quarters; 1,400 hundred square feet of top of the line comfort and style. She finally landed her gaze on the seven scantily clad men and woman surrounding their bar. "We didn't completely start without you." Puck smirked.
"He wanted to." Mercedes huffed.
Puck gasped and pretended to be hurt. "I wouldn't start without you, Lopez, no way."
She took another drag off her cigar and waited for the chiding voice she knew was coming. "Santana." Sam's voice was soft but still held some weight.
Santana sighed and closed her eyes for a second; she heard the gasping breaths of the other occupants and then their mindless chatter as their conversations started up again. "Really Sam, I don't know why you bother still attending these little...get-togethers if you enjoy yourself so little."
Sam sighed. "I enjoy myself, San." He said for the thousandth time. "I just think that things should be-"
"Done in moderation." Santana and Puck mocked him in unison. Santana went to take a step towards the open chair and found herself blocked by a tall brunette wearing an almost classless black tube top style dress that just let Santana see the bottom of her pink thong from under the hem. Far from feeling turned on Santana was almost annoyed; didn't this generation know there was something called the hunt?
"You," the slut breathed heavily, "are positively the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen." Santana could easily see her lust; the woman was barely restraining herself. Santana hoped she wouldn't lose that shred of control; she'd break a bitch for trying to jump her without permission. Instead of answering Santana took another inhale off her cigar and blew it back in the woman's face. "Who are you?" She practically whispered when Santana made no other moves.
Stupid pop culture, Santana rolled her eyes. "You don't recognize me?" She mocked. She took another inhale except this time when she expelled it from her lungs the smoke was an extremely deep coloured burgundy, so dark it was almost black. The smoke instantly travelled into the woman's nose and mouth. "I'm Cupid, bitch."
Brittany was pulled from her daydream by a sharp, but not really painful, flick to her ear. She turned, pouting slightly, to the woman standing before her. "Stop moving." Quinn snapped. Her slightly harsh words were softened by the gentle touch she gave as she ran her hand through Brittany's long, blonde locks. "You've only got a few minutes left and I need to finish your makeup. So stop bobbing your head." Brittany dutifully became still in her chair as Quinn once again brought the makeup brush to her face; but they both knew that soon enough Brittany's body would once again be swaying to the beat as she attempted to dance in her chair.
Quinn finished quickly, leaving her makeup light to accentuate her natural beauty and only heavy around her eyes to make her blue iris's really sparkle. "Okay, you're good." Quinn stepped away to briefly admire her handiwork. "Put your hair up." Brittany obeyed without question and pulled a hair tie from her wrist.
Quinn eyed the blonde bombshell before her with a critical eye but found nothing amiss. "Okay ladies, two minutes." She called out to the room. The three other women who were required to be on stage quickly stood before the floor length mirrors and gave themselves final once overs.
"Well don't you look fabulous." A cheerful voice said from behind Brittany; she squealed and practically launched herself from her chair.
"Mikey!" Mike's arm were, thankfully, already open and ready to suddenly have 5 feet 8 inches of dancer nearly on top of him or he'd have tumbled over. "I didn't think I was going to get to see you today." Brittany smiled warmly at him. She finally stepped back and noticed he was still in his street clothes; just a pair of threadbare jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His stylishly rumpled, windswept black hair matched his smooth, almost adorable features and his perfect white teeth practically sparkled against his toffee coloured skin.
"You weren't going to, but Boss called me in. Said we had a meeting after opening act tonight. Figured I might as well come in early enough to get to spend some time with my best friend." The smile Brittany was giving him was completely infectious and he couldn't help but beam back at her. He gave her a once over and, unlike when other people did it, Brittany didn't feel uncomfortable at all. She knew Mike's gaze wasn't lecherous; he was looking at her entire person with a professionals eye, not simply staring at her rather exposed body. She was wearing stiletto high heels which put her at even height with Mike and then fishnet stockings which wrapped around her legs until her garters. Her booty shorts were already miniscule but Mike knew the black leather were actually tearaways. Her completely see through white silk top flowed around her body and gave her an angelic appearance that only Brittany could pull off. Mike also knew the top wouldn't last very long. Currently hidden by the top were the suspenders, attached to the garters around her thighs, and a blood red bra that matched the leather straps.
Mike couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness wash over him as he looked at her. Pity was forbidden in their line of work but Mike had known Brittany since they were kids and he wanted so much more for her. He shifted his eyes slightly and caught Quinn's gaze over Brittany's right shoulder; the look in her eye let Mike know she felt the same.
Brittany, however, took everything in stride and simply allowed her happy feelings at seeing Mike block everything else out. "Go get into position Britt." Quinn ordered softly. "And here, don't forget your hat and gloves." Brittany took the articles of clothing and set the hat on her head at a titled angle and pulled on the black leather, fingerless gloves.
Brittany practically skipped away, after stopping to press a quick smacking kiss to Mike's cheek, and the three other girls who had been prepping followed her out of the dressing room. "She breaks my heart." Mike admitted softly.
"I know." Quinn murmured just as quietly. "You know I love that girl too."
"She's family." Mike shrugged his shoulders simply. "We might have done things to put ourselves here, but that girl deserves better." Quinn remained quiet and Mike looked over at the woman who was both his friend and confidant. "You know why I got called in?"
"No. If I did I'd tell you. But I know Boss wants to see Britt, Sugar and Blaine as well as you." Mike arched an eyebrow in surprise.
"What could Boss want with the four of us?" Mike knew he wasn't in trouble; he earned too much for this place to be in trouble. In fact, the four names Quinn had mentioned were the top four earners in the place.
"Not sure." Quinn's jaw was locked and she spoke through clenched teeth. "Makes me nervous."
Mike's lips turned down in sympathy. He knew many would think that his and Britt's job were the worst but he truly believed Quinn had the worse deal. It was her job to take care of everybody and once Quinn had adopted you, you were family for life. It genuinely surprised Mike that Quinn wasn't a mother because she took care of everybody like they were her own children and it broke her a little bit each day to see what they were subjected to.
He glanced around to make sure that nobody was looking before wrapping one arm around the much smaller woman's shoulders and pulling her against him. Quinn accepted the side hug, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment. "Did it look busy out there?" Quinn straightened her spine and put on her business persona once more.
"Very." Mike admitted. "You know how Wednesday's are." Quinn pursed her lips and nodded tersely.
"I do. I'm just going to go give them one final check up. Going to watch the show?"
"Of course. You know I love to watch her dance." A slightly pained expression came over his face. "Even if it is like this."
Quinn led the way out of the dressing room and hit the backstage area. Two of the girls were situated at the far right and left of the stage and Quinn checked on them first. A gentle hand on their arm, a genuine smile, a kiss on their cheeks; Quinn knew in a lot of the cases that even though she was only a few years older than most of them that she was as close as these girls had to a mother. Once she made her way back to centre stage she gave Aubrey a warm hug and an encouraging wink before stepping several feet back to where Brittany waited.
Now that her surprise visit from Mike was over Brittany's ever present smile had faded just one degree. Quinn didn't hesitate for a second to wrap her arm around the taller blonde's waist. Fortunately, she knew exactly how to talk to the dancer. "You feel that?" Brittany's body was instantly swaying to the beat that the speakers were playing. It picked up in intensity, and dropped the bass a little, to let the audience know they were close. Brittany instantly felt an excited shiver race down her spine; the music was already taking over her body. "You're going to dance so beautifully." Quinn told her friend honestly. Brittany nodded excitedly. "And who are you dancing for?"
"Me." Brittany answered simply with a wry grin that let Quinn know Britt thought the answer was obvious.
"That's right. Just you. Just dance, Britt."
Brittany leaned down and pressed her lips against Quinn's temple and Quinn knew there was nothing else she needed to say. She stepped away and let the dancer have her moment. Brittany would be hard to distract now anyway; she had the uncanny ability to literally let her body take over when the music started.
Quinn left the backstage area and headed into the main venue. She was long since used to this place but she had to admit it was impressive. The stage alone was breathtaking; it was made up of three different circles with the centre stage circle being raised a little higher by about a foot. The entire back wall was mirrors that were sliding doors so that the dancers could emerge from behind them. The centre of each circle stage held the classic stainless steel pole.
The first row seats and small bistro tables were right along the edge of the stages in what was generally referred to as perverts row. There were several lines of these types of tables before farther back got to the circular booth type tables with their own tiny stage in the middle. The entire wall opposite the stage was the bar that boasted three bartenders at all times.
Quinn was well aware of the clubs success and that was probably because the strip club was also part Burlesque. It wasn't just scantily clad girls on stage revealing themselves to a crowd. It was scantily clad professional dancers with real choreographed routines revealing themselves to a crowd. Unfortunately, there were enough struggling, down on their luck dancers to make the club a reality.
However, the Cheerio Club definitely had a few extra amenities which brought it over the top of just any old strip club. First of which would probably be the dance floor. Unlike all other strip clubs the Cheerio Club actually encouraged on the floor dancing by its patrons which helped to bring in more females than most other clubs had. The dancers were actually required to spend a percentage of their night on the actual dance floor with the regular patrons to keep the dance vibe going at all times. They also, on any given night, had both male and female dancers on stage so that anyone in the club had something pleasing to their eye to watch. The second extra service, and crowd favourite, were the cages. Basically four human bird cages were situated around the club, two on the ground beside the dance floor and two suspended from the ceiling above pervert row, always encased four of the clubs dancers. Clad in only the barest of essentials, and those garments usually of the see through variety, the dancers inside the cage had almost total movement restricted which allowed them basically only to gyrate and touch themselves for the crowds amusement and pleasure.
Quinn detested the cages more than anything else because it killed her to see her kids locked inside them for a night. The Boss openly used the cages as punishment and the dancers with the lowest earnings for the week were almost always guaranteed a trip to the cage. The two suspended cages were the worst because you performed without any hope of getting tipped at all.
As much as Quinn wanted to avoid looking at the cages she wouldn't do it; instead she met the eyes of the two girls and two boys locked inside them for the night and offered the warmest smile she could muster.
Quinn slipped around to a completely deserted corner out of the way where she could simultaneously watch the stage show and the goings on in the club. She felt a presence beside her and tensed before relaxing into Mike's side. Both of their eyes were drawn to the stage as the DJ stilled the music for a beat and three of the sliding glass panels opened to reveal the dancers. Cat calls already began as they took in the almost matching black and white outfits the three girls wore. The opening notes of Blame It On the Alcohol began to play and the three girls, startlingly realistically, pretended to drunk stumble and sway out onto their places. Their dance began with the music, slow and sultry, and Quinn knew they were simply building up the crowd to the main event; Brittany.
Even though Brittany was standing behind the stage still and the mirrors were closed she could picture the moves her fellow dancers were making perfectly. She should be able to; she taught them the dance herself. Her hips were moving to the beat of the song as she waited for her cue.
Brittany knew exactly what was waiting out there for her. The club might have been strobing with lights but it was still clear enough that she could see. The expressions on those in perverts row were usually some of the worst; their greedy, hungry eyes raking over her body in rude and unapologetic ways, their exposed teeth as they panted and ran their tongues over dry lips and hands unashamedly touching themselves over, and sometimes under, their clothes. Looking out into the crowd was generally no better, the cat calls, wolf whistles and gyrating bodies seemed to form one solid mass on the dance floor and it was terrifying to know that if the tables turned on the dancers there would be little they could do against the riot. Almost worse than perverts row was, god forbid, making eye contact with whichever dancers were locked in the cages for the night. Seeing them made Brittany think of abused puppies as they were completely naked and vulnerable before the crowd.
At least Brittany had her body, her dancing, as a weapon against the masses; those in the cages were simply bodies on display with no last line of defence.
So Brittany was not naive as to what awaited her as she heard the change of the beat, the drop as the music became a mash-up, and she stepped through the sliding mirror out onto the stage. She simply decided to focus on the better things.
The music took over and Brittany's body snapped into a pose as the beat to I'm A Slave 4 U pumped through the expensive speaker system. Her three backup dancers followed her example as they went into their routine.
Brittany was happy she got to see Mike today. She didn't always and even when they were at work they were usually too busy to actually spend any time together.
Britt's shirt was ripped from her body by her backup dancers to reveal her abs, defined enough to cut steel, and her chest already coated in a sheen of sweat. The calls and whistles intensified and bills were already littered on the stage.
Quinn had also promised she would find the time to hangout this week which Britt always looked forward too. The last time they'd spent all night in their pajama's eating ice cream and watching horror movies.
Brittany was on her hands and knees basically crawling on her stomach right to the edge of pervert's row. She backrolled slowly, giving them basically a close up view of herself, and rough calloused hands grabbed at her and trailed down her skin.
Maybe she could convince Mike and Quinn to hangout the same night and they could have a dance party. Quinn usually felt self conscious dancing with the two professionals but one or two vodka shots usually loosened her up.
Brittany slid her hands all the way from her neck, down her chest, down into her shorts as she pretended to touch herself. At the hit of the next beat she tore the shorts off her body and they split at the seams showing off the black thong that was all she was wearing now.
Brittany's favourite part of the dance was coming up and she internally grinned as she remembered being at Julliard and impressing the stuffy ballet dancers with her hip hop street moves.
Britt finally incorporated the pole and spun herself around three times without touching the ground and then flipped herself over so she was holding on by only her legs. She knew her chest was basically spilling out of her red bra and Sara, the backup dancer sliding down the pole basically between her legs backwards, undid the strap with her teeth until it fell away and Brittany's breasts were exposed. She flipped herself over and landed on her heels and then the four almost completely naked girls danced in unison.
Before Brittany even realized it the dance was over and her and the other girls were walking around the stage provocatively picking up their discarded clothing, the pieces that hadn't made their way into the crowd, and the hundreds of dollars of bills littered across the stage.
Brittany walked back into the change room and four other dancers were waiting politely with their robes held open for them. Each girl slid into them gratefully. They had each been around each other naked so often it really wasn't even a big deal anymore; it was more that they spent so much time naked they preferred to be clothed when they could.
A small round of applause, very different from the foot stomping, screams for more, occurring back out in the main stage, made Brittany beam. "Very impressive." Mike smiled wildly and Brittany wrapped him up in her arms once more.
"Thanks. The double heel to toe back slide idea you had for the middle section-"
"Britt." Quinn cut the dancers off gently knowing that once they started little could distract them. "You guys have to go and see the Boss." Quinn finished gathering all the money from the girls to be counted later.
Brittany's smile dropped somewhat. "Are we in trouble?"
"No way, Sunshine." Mike protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Nobody can be mad at you."
Quinn smiled lightly because the statement was, for the most part, actually true. "C'mon." She ushered the two forward again. "You know the drill. When Sue Sylvester says jump,"
"Your head better hit the fucking ceiling." Mike and Brittany repeated with matching smirks.
"You got it." Quinn nodded. She started leading them farther into the Cheerio Club and, with growing trepidation because she didn't know what was going on, hoped she wasn't bringing the lambs to the slaughter.