Thepenismightier0813
Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 11, 2019
- Posts
- 92
The club was named Esquire and while it was a fairly common name for their kind of club it was one of the best in the city of New York. In a den of slimy clubs and places of various repute it shone like a jewel. Owned by a Madame only known as Mystique, it was well known for the effort put into the girl’s choreography and abilities. You could only work in this club if you proved yourself as a natural talent for dancing. Even then you had best be prepared… prepared for a harsh training regime to turn you from a girl with talent.
To one of Esquire’s famous sirens.
To be a siren was to be a goddess. To be a siren meant that you knew how to sell a story of sex and sin. People paid thousand of dollars to see a siren dance and even more to get something private. Men from all walks of life came to see the sirens dance. Men of power and scroungers who spent their life savings just for one dance. No one ever complained… and they always said it was worth every penny.
“Just remember,” A man said as he walked the younger man through the doors. “Don’t get draw into the honey trap. You’ll be outside for most of the night anyways but still.”
Harlen Hamilton shook his head his hand coming up to scratch his light-colored beard. “I’ve got better things to do.” He grunted his blue eyes sweeping across the club. It was a few hours before the club opened. Enough time for the new bouncer to learn the ins and out of managing the front door. He was quite a dish, tall and broad with blonde hair and intense eyes. He wore a simple black T shirt stretched over his T like frame and a simple pair of stone washed jeans. There were a pair on knuckle dusters inside of his coat just in case things got out of hand.
To one of Esquire’s famous sirens.
To be a siren was to be a goddess. To be a siren meant that you knew how to sell a story of sex and sin. People paid thousand of dollars to see a siren dance and even more to get something private. Men from all walks of life came to see the sirens dance. Men of power and scroungers who spent their life savings just for one dance. No one ever complained… and they always said it was worth every penny.
“Just remember,” A man said as he walked the younger man through the doors. “Don’t get draw into the honey trap. You’ll be outside for most of the night anyways but still.”
Harlen Hamilton shook his head his hand coming up to scratch his light-colored beard. “I’ve got better things to do.” He grunted his blue eyes sweeping across the club. It was a few hours before the club opened. Enough time for the new bouncer to learn the ins and out of managing the front door. He was quite a dish, tall and broad with blonde hair and intense eyes. He wore a simple black T shirt stretched over his T like frame and a simple pair of stone washed jeans. There were a pair on knuckle dusters inside of his coat just in case things got out of hand.