Emily hadn't had the chance to put on her make up before she left home – namely because Jayde had been hanging off of her like a monkey – so she'd arrived at work a few minutes early so she could apply her smokey eye in the locker room mirror.

It wasn't much easier to focus in a room full of girls vying for space in front of the mirror and the bass of the music on the other side of the door thumping loudly enough to make her skull pound, but she made do.

"Em!" Dave's voice shouted through a crack in the door. "Em, get out here!"

She huffed, marching out of the locker room, already protesting, "My shift doesn't start for another ten minutes and..."

Dave held up his hands to stem the verbal tide. "Forget your shift," he said flatly.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. "Dave, I'm sorry!" she instantly apologized, "Please, don't fire me – I need this job, I'm barely making ends meet as it is and..."

"Em, you're not fired," he said, speaking louder to be heard over her pleading.

"Oh..." she said meekly. "Then, what...?"

Somehow managing to resist rolling his eyes at her histrionics, Dave explained, "There's been a request," he said vaguely. She arched a brow in confusion. "A patron has specifically asked for you tonight," he continued, "He's booked you into the Champagne Room."

Emily wasn't exactly a stranger to the Champagne Room – she booked the occasional hour or two – but she wasn't the favourite. It was something of an open secret around the club that Megan was hooking on the side – and the Champagne Room was where you made those arrangements. Dave turned a blind eye to the whole thing, so long as the actual sex didn't happen at the club – he wasn't about to lose his license because some girl couldn't keep her legs shut.

"Why me?" Emily blurted out, though she hadn't intended to say the words aloud.

Dave shrugged. "He made it very clear that you were the one he wanted. And he wanted you to himself for four hours, so who am I to argue with that?"

A four hour stint in the Champagne Room was almost unheard of... For one thing, it cost a grand per hour, without the cost of bottle service. Having made the request for her specifically had likely cost extra. And that didn't include tips. For another thing, most guys didn't even need the full hour to get their rocks off.

"So, play nice," Dave continued. "Encourage the spending, if you know what I mean..."

Nodding, a little shaken by the unexpected turn of events, she returned to the locker room to finish getting ready. She texted JJ, "Gonna be in the CR tonight...special request...4 hrs!"

"Holy shit," JJ texted back almost immediately, "Gonna get the big bucks 2nite!"

She sighed, silently praying that this so-called 'special request' wasn't going to end with her having to call the cops on some perv who thought that just because he had money, he could treat her like a sex toy... She really wasn't in the mood tonight.

But she also couldn't turn down a chance to make some extra money...

When Emily strutted into the Champagne Room, her patron was already there, waiting for her arrival. He held out a glass of champagne for her in greeting, which she readily accepted, clinking it against his with a mischievous smile.

She took a generous sip, then set the glass aside so she could approach him. She reached up to rest her hands on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. "So, what should I call you?" she husked. She bit at her lip, then looked up to meet his gaze.

"Ian," he replied, cocksure grin on his face, lips scant inches from hers. "I don't suppose Ruby is your real name?"

She smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, gently pushing him back to sit in the room's lone chair.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Shall we?" he suggested, slipping a fifty into the waistband of her g-string.

She tried not to look surprised at the size of the tip – especially considering the fact that she hadn't actually done anything yet – instead proceeding to move her hips in time with the thumping beat of the music.

She moved to grind against him and immediately felt the evidence of his arousal against her ass. She knew how this worked: the more she made him believe she might have sex with him, the better he'd tip.

She wasn't actually going to sleep with him, of course, because she was not a hooker. But she'd always been good at make believe...

Ian leaned in to nuzzle her neck, inhaled deeply the scent of her perfume. His hands found their way to her thighs, slowly running them along her smooth skin. Lips brushing her neck, he suggested, "I believe the privacy affords us the chance to become better acquainted?"

For a moment, she was about to remind him that she didn't hook, but his hands had found their way to her breasts, working on her bra clasp and she understood immediately what he'd meant by the remark.

She halted briefly because she didn't usually do this, then reached up to flick open the clasp, letting it fall away, exposing her breasts to him. She stood from his lap then, turning so that he could get the full view of her breasts, smirking to herself as he made no secret of his staring.

(There was a reason she could more or less make a living as a stripper, afterall...)

"Come closer, Love," Ian coaxed. And, as soon as she was within reach, his hand was moving instantly to her breast.

She didn't let him reach his target, though, teasing, "Who gave you permission?"

He just chuckled, pulling another fifty from his pocket and slipping it into her g-string. "I believe we can come to some sort of agreement..." he drawled.