"Out of all the cliché, stereotypical locations, can we please move our business meeting out of a strip club? "
"Oh lighten up, Chris. This is more of a celebration than a meeting anyway." Replies John, Christian's new business partner and old buddy from Harvard. Christian Grey doesn't do strip clubs, you dumb ass.
"There's a difference between partying and distaste. I can't even watch these pathetic plastic chicks."
"Grab a beer, won't you?" Adds his partner, Colin. "And for the record, these are very classy ladies that want to display their body parts for the good cause of making us tired businessmen happy. Being given their body parts by god, it is their god given right to show us what we want to see don't you think? Everyone around Clifford began to howl with laughter. Except for that Megan, though. Donno what made her take her top off and who decided to pay money for her. Am I right? Am I right?"
Another drunken howl of laughter by the group around the table.
"Right, I'll go mingle then. Get what's apparently rightfully mine." Christian rolls his eyes and quickly walks outside. These girls were disgusting to look at. Even if he hadn't had a sub for two months, he wouldn't scoop this low. The club was crawling with fake blondes with two massive plastic balloons hanging out of their shirts and a ton of bronzer on their faces. It was hard to see the appeal. Then again, Christian wasn't hammered yet.
'If you can't beat'em, join'em,' Christian concluded before he sat down by the deserted bar to order a drink, preferably, as potent as he could get in a dump like this.
"I'll have a scotch, neat," Christian commanded without looking up at the bartender.
"Coming up sir," the delicate voice murmured back. Christian immediately whipped his head up.
The bartender was a thin pale woman. She looked barely in her twenties, and her too big blue eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets with the attention she was giving to the scotch she was pouring. She was wearing the classic uniform of the other waitresses: black short skirt and a black cropped top to match. Christian wanted her immediately.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Christian growled to himself. Christian himself was taken aback by his outburst. The bartender winced.
"I'm sorry sir. Have I done something wrong?" 'God I want her on this table now,'
"No, I'll take the scotch" Christian muttered. 'Why must she work here? She doesn't belong in this place with all these perverts ogling her body all night. I could really take care of her...' 'Woa, where the hell did that come from Grey? She works at a strip club. You can't have her. She's probably infested with disease.'
As Christian told himself this, he immediately regretted it. To think about anyone touching her flawless pale skin was unthinkable.
'Get a hold of yourself, Grey' Christian thinks as he tosses back his drink. He takes another glance at the bartender who is looking nervously at anywhere but at him. "Thanks for the drink." Christian mutters as he stands up, taking out a $100 bill out of his pocket. He puts it in her hands to have some contact with her before he leaves. 'Maybe she'll take this and run away from this hellhole tonight' Christian hopes insanely. He gathers his belongings and hurries back to his car, leaving a stunned brunette holding the biggest tip of her life in her hand.