Eccentric Cheezy Squirrel: Actually, the guy looked very young for his age... like me, lol. I studied French in high school but forgot most of it. How embarrassing... and I know the names of some fancy dishes because of all the cooking shows I watch.

Mat49324: Thanks. Here's the next chapter :)

"No way in HELL am I going in that place!" Clover shouted, panic-stricken.

Her two friends tugged at her arms, dragging her unwilling body towards the entrance. "What's the matter, Clover? I thought you said you couldn't wait to go clubbing," Sam said wickedly.

"That was before I found out it's a gay club!"

Women of all shapes, color and height were milling around on the sidewalk. One of them spotted the girls and let out a loud wolf-whistle; heads turned their way and Sam blushed as red as her hair. "Clover, quit struggling and get inside!" she hissed.

A young woman walked over to them, stopping next to Alex. She looked her up and down then said, "Baby, ain't you a bit young to be in a place like this?"

"Aah… aah… um… I'm doing research for a school assignment," Alex lied.

Sam rolled her eyes and even Clover groaned. The woman laughed, tossing her head back. "A school assignment about dykes? Yeah, and my name is Oprah." She leaned forward and whispered to the girls. "Don't matter if you have ID or not… Chris don't care what age y'all be."

She gave Clover a friendly pat on the butt and the blond leapt three feet upwards. As the woman left, Clover ground her teeth together in a rage. "Jerry is going to be SO dead when we get home!" she seethed.

"Maybe we could get some of these girls' autographs," Sam grinned. Clover made a face and allowed herself to be dragged inside the building.

The spies sat huddled together at a table, looking fearfully around the crowded room. Most of the lights were off and loud funky music thudded through the club. Knots of women were dancing in the cleared space near the center of the room; some of them were kissing. "Ugh. I think I'm going to be sick!" Clover gagged.

"It is a bit much," Alex agreed, looking in wide-eyed amazement at the antics of a couple sitting across from them. "Even looking at Mandy would be better than looking at this!"

"Helloooo, ladies. You must be new; I've never seen you here before." A tall skinny woman with shaved head and black nail polish slithered over to their table, standing next to Clover. "Studs! I like," she grinned.

Sam, Clover and Alex looked at each other in horror. "Um… h-hi," Alex wobbled in a high-pitched voice.

"Hello yourself. May I introduce myself as Chris Dagan, the owner of this fabulous joint. Who might you be?" she cooed, gazing intently at Clover who shuddered.

"I'm Sam, she's Alex and that's Clover."

"Sam? Alex? Very nice names. Rather ambiguous, don't you think?" asked Chris meaningfully. She looked at Clover again. "On the other hand, Clover reminds me of a beast on my father's farm. You don't look much like her, though."

Clover's face turned red as a beet while Sam and Alex giggled. "Sam isn't my real name, it's Samantha," the redhead explained. "And Alex is short for Alexandria."

"Oh hush, dear, I know. My name is short for Christine. Shall I bring you a drink? Courtesy of City Speaks? On the house?" Chris cooed.

"We're not old enough to drink," said Alex.

Chris looked surprised. "Is that so. Well, pardon me for thinking you were more mature." Her smile broadened into a grin. "But that can be changed." She gave them a wolfish grin and sailed off, blending into the crowd.

Clover turned to her friends, her face distraught. "Why did Jerry send us here? This has to be a mistake! Let's get out of this place before someone tries to ask us out on a date!"

At that moment a woman in her twenties came over to the table. "Nice hair," she said to Clover.

The blond squirmed in embarrassment while her friends smothered laughter. "Thanks. I condition it every day," Clover finally managed to get out.

"You do? So do I. I run a hairdressing salon. Maybe we should get together sometime," the woman said, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her low-cut leather slacks.

Clover's face turned white and she hurriedly got up from the table. "I…I have to go to the bathroom. Come with me," she said, dragging Sam and Alex behind her.

In the washroom, Clover slammed the door shut and leaned against it. "What am I going to do? I don't want to date that… that…" she choked.

"Well, I dunno, Clover. After all you two do have something in common," Sam said wickedly.

"Samantha Simpson, I can't believe you think this is funny! I'd rather date Arnold again than any of those creatures outside! Is there a window in here? Maybe I can crawl out and go back to the hotel," Clover said hopefully, looking at the ceiling.

Sam followed her gaze. "Doesn't look like it. You need to do something so she won't find you so attractive."

"Oh, I got it! Now I know what this is for." Alex took out her bottle of anti-pheromone. "This should do the trick!"

"Alex, you're a genius!" Clover took out her bottle and liberally splashed herself with the chemical. "Thank goodness Jerry gave this to us!"

"Yeah, I feel a lot better now, too." Sam closed her vial and put it back in the waistband of her costume. "Okay, let's get back out there – and hopefully we can start looking for clues to those missing students."

The spies made their way back to their table somewhat nervously. They shouldn't have been; Jerry's anti-pheromone did the trick and the women in the club were no longer attracted to the girls.

"Of course, now that they're not hanging over us they're ignoring us," Sam said, drumming her fingers on the table in annoyance. "We have to get information from these people if we have any hope of finding those missing students!"

"Who are they, again?" asked Clover, dipping into a bowl of salted peanuts.

Sam took out some photographs from her pocket and put them on the table. "Sixteen students have disappeared in the past two weeks. They were all last reported seen near this club. All of them are college students. Most of them board at their school and came here to party, and they just vanished."

"Did more girls disappear than boys? Or was it girls alone?" asked Alex.

"More girls than guys, but guys are on the missing list too," Sam said, shifting the photographs on the table.

"Hey, I know her. She's cute." A petite woman leaned over Sam's shoulder, pointing out a picture of a dark-haired girl. Sam grew hopeful. "You've seen her? Is she here?"

"Not now." The woman grew thoughtful. "She came here a few times last week. She isn't gay, but she didn't mind partying with us."

"When exactly did you see her last?" asked Clover.

"Thursday."

"I see." Sam spread out the photos. "Do you see anyone else you recognize?"

The woman studied the photos and pointed out two other girls. "I saw them one time or another. I think they were out front with some boys. I didn't watch 'em leave or nothing."

"Okay. Thanks for your help. What's your name? I'm Samantha and this is Clover and Alex," Sam said.

"Pleased to meetcha. I'm Debbie. Gotta run now, my girlfriend's giving me some funny looks." Debbie waved and hurried off; the spies looked excitedly at one another.

"Finally some information! I think this club definitely has some weird vibes. What do you think, Sammie?" asked Alex.

The redhead nodded. "There's something fishy going on here, though I don't know what it is yet. We'll have to question some other people, see if we can get more leads about the students."

"You mean we have to talk to other, uh… lesbians?" Clover hissed in a low voice, face crumpled in dismay. "I was hoping it was time to… leave… you know? It is kinda late," she said, cheerfully pointing to a wall clock that indicated the time was barely eight-fifteen.

Sam and Alex glowered at her and Clover gave a resigned chuckle. "Just kidding…"

Sam split the photos between herself, Clover and Alex. Then the girls set out to interview different patrons at the club. It wasn't an easy task, what with the dim lights and dancing going on, plus drinking and other things. For Clover it was especially difficult, but she reminded herself she was a WOOHP agent and had a job to do. And when this was over she could land herself a date with the new quarterback at their high school. Testosterone, lots of testosterone, she kept telling herself.

After a couple of hours the girls met in the washroom to compare notes. "Any luck?" Sam asked.

"Totally! All of my students were seen here," Clover said. Alex nodded. "Mine, too."

"That settles it. This place had something to do with kidnapping them. I want to talk to the woman who owns this joint," said Sam.

"Oh, you mean Chris?" asked Alex.

"Yeah, her. She's got sharp eyes, seems to know all the regulars here – and therefore, those who aren't."

"Let's go find her!" said Alex. She led the way to the exit and her friends followed. Just then the door opened and the woman who'd patted Clover's butt outside the club walked in. "Look who's here! Having a threesome?" she asked, before vanishing into a cubicle.

Clover started shaking with rage; Alex and Sam grabbed her arms and yanked her out of the washroom. "She is so dead! I am so going to kill her!" Clover fumed.

"You're not allowed to kill anyone, especially since you're a WOOHP agent," soothed Sam. "Forget about her."

"Yeah, at least she didn't make a pass at you again!" Alex giggled. Clover gritted her teeth but allowed herself to be led back to the club itself.

"That's weird. Chris isn't here," said Sam, scratching her head.

"Maybe she had a hot date and had to leave," Clover said sourly. "With Debbie or Donna or whoever else is in this place."

"Or maybe she saw us asking questions and decided it was a good time to vanish," suggested Alex with a smug look.

Sam grinned at her. "You're probably right, Alex! She has to be hiding something."

"Yeah, besides those wrinkles on her cheeks," Clover sniped.

"She can't get away from us that easily. We'll be back tomorrow to talk to her." Sam turned and headed for the exit. "Let's go. Time for a shower and bed."

Finally! Clover thought with relief. As the girls headed out of the club Alex snatched up a matchbook from a table. She'd do some searching on the WOOHP database and see what information came up about the club – and its owner.