Emily was doing her best to resist rolling her eyes as she overheard snatches of conversation from the group of men around one of the tables as she moved about the club floor offering lap dances. It wasn't unusual for groups of men to come in together, but this one was larger than usual. The real oddity, though, was that one of the men appeared to be giving some kind of lecture.
From what she could overhear, it was some kind of garbage on how to pick up women. Speaking as a woman, it was a lot of misogynistic bullshit. Speaking as a stripper, it was laughable...mainly because most of the men looked like they'd never seen a naked woman that wasn't pixelated.
The lecturer scanned the room, his eyes landing on her, a wide wolfish grin spreading across his face. He snapped his fingers. "C'mere, baby."
Groaning internally, she plastered on a smile and sauntered over. "What can I do to make you happy, sugar?" she husked, pouting sexily.
He patted his lap. "Take a seat." Obligingly, she settled down on his thighs. He proceeded to take great relish in slipping a dollar into her g-string, his hand lingering entirely too long on her hip, toying with the fabric of her thong. "Why don't you tell my friends your name, baby?" he suggested.
Emily gritted her teeth – she didn't appreciate being told what to do (especially not for someone who tipped by the dollar), but she played along anyway. "I'm Ruby. And what should I call you, baby?"
He chuckled. "The name's Viper. But why don't you let the men talk and do what you're good at?" he suggested.
In that moment, she very much would have liked to tell him where to go and what to do to himself when he got there...but she plastered on a smile and resisted the impulse.
"Men are put on this Earth to hunt women," Viper proceeded to lecture. "And even though women deny it, they want to be hunted. They need it – it's part of our biological imperative as animals. And the competition the opposite sex puts you through, pitting you against other guys, against your own friends even...it's all to reassure themselves that they have brought home the best possible mate. 'Cause just like you, they want someone who's going to make their eyeballs roll back in their head. My job is to help you slash past every defence, every excuse, every 'why don't you meet my friend' trick that they're going to throw at you. You may not have ripped abs or afford table service, but if you're smarter and more interesting, then you will be a better predator. Because this is the jungle my friends and your prey wants to be caught."
"Great...we're dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman," Emily found herself speaking before she knew the words were going to spill forth.
"What was that, honey?" Viper asked. Emily couldn't have said for certain whether he was daring her to repeat the words or whether he genuinely hadn't heard her remark.
She plastered on a smile, doing her best to maintain her flirtatious facade. "Nevermind. Is there anything else I can do for you, handsome?"
With a dismissive little wave, he instructed, "Why don't you grab the two of us some drinks?"
When she returned with two glasses of whisky in her hands, she did her best to mask her great reluctance to be alone with the so-called Viper, now that his so-called students had wandered off. He patted his lap once again, indicating she should take a seat which she did, though not without a generous swig of the whisky. "Is there somewhere the two of us could enjoy a little more privacy?" he asked by her ear. "I thought you might want to enjoy my company without having to share..." He traced a finger along her stomach.
She did her best to hide the way his touch made her tense. "There's plenty of privacy for those who can pay for it," she said, hoping her tone came across as playful rather than disgusted.
"That won't be a problem, so long as we won't be interrupted," he declared, fingers reaching the hem of her thong, hooking his fingers in it as if to drag it off her body.
She pushed his hand away and did her best to maintain politeness as she informed him, "That won't fly here, sweetheart. Those are Dave's rules."
"Oh, come on," he insisted, "No one has to know." And then, with a smirk that clearly said 'you're property and I can do what I want to you', he slid his hand into her panties.
Jumping to her feet, Emily stumbled backwards, heart pounding. Then, without thinking about the consequences, she threw the remainder of her drink in his face.
"You stupid bitch!" he shouted, getting to his feet and advancing on her, backing her into the nearest wall.
From his post, Derek had seen the whole scene play out. He knew Emily could handle herself, but in that moment, he saw red. "Are you alright?" he asked, jogging over to Emily, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.
She was almost trembling – whether from anger or fear he couldn't be certain – but she was doing her best to hide it. "I was defending myself," she said, voice a low growl. "He just fucking assaulted me."
In the next moment, Derek had whirled around and, without giving the man a chance to explain his side of the story, his fist collided with his face.
After a moment of initial shock, Viper cocked his fist and was about to return fire, but before he could, Dave got between them, preventing things from getting out of hand. (Less out of actual concern for the men, than for concern over his club's reputation...)
Once he'd sufficiently calmed Viper down (and convinced him not to sue and/or go to the papers), Dave dragged Emily and Derek into his office.
"What the hell were you thinking!?" he demanded, slamming the door behind him. Turning to glower at them, he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Emily, I'm willing to let this one slide, but you will be on thin ice from now on..."
She nodded gratefully, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"You, Derek..." he said, turning to face him with a grim expression. "You're supposed to prevent fights, not instigate them. My club has a stellar reputation to uphold, I cannot have this sort of thing getting out. Which is to say, pack up your locker, you're finished here."
Derek opened his mouth to say something, but no sound would come out. Emily used the opportunity to speak for him, though. "It's not his fault," she said, "You can't punish him for defending me..."
For several long moments, Dave mulled over the situation before him. Ultimately, though, he gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But only because I'm in a good mood. I'll give you another chance, but I warn you...this is your last."