advantage whenever possible.
Reaching the club, Lauren tried the door only to find it locked. Three rounds of knocking later it was answered by a scruffy man in his early twenties. Lauren waited for the obligatory scan of her figure.
When Scruffy was finished examining her body he took a moment to look at Lauren’s face. ‘You here for the interview?’
‘That’s right. I’m Monique.’ Lauren held out a hand, hoping Scruffy was the one who’d interview her. The way he’d looked at her, she was sure he’d give her the job.
‘Mr Nicholson is through here.’
Scruffy turned on his heel and led her into the club. Looking around Lauren saw pretty much what she’d expected to see. A long bar filled one wall, while the opposite side was lined with leather bench seats arranged in a series of crescents. At the far end of the narrow room were a series of booths with red velour curtains hanging from brass rails.
‘Grab a seat. I’ll get Mr Nicholson.’ Scruffy took off towards a door marked ‘Private’ behind the bar.
The centre of the room was dominated by two poles, set on waist high platforms. Each of the walls had burgundy flocked wallpaper and pictures of models posing in their underwear.
The smell of stale beer and unspent testosterone hung in the air. The lighting was muted although there were a series of unlit spotlights pointing at the twin stages.
Lauren supposed she ought to feel nervous applying for a job as a lap-dancer, but she didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of apprehension. An exhibitionist by nature, she enjoyed the attention her body got her and she took a care to always make the most of her assets.
The higher purpose which brought her here eradicated any fears she may have about exposing her body to a bunch of strangers. The biggest worries for Lauren were failing to get the evidence she needed or her superiors finding out and firing her.
Either would spell disaster and mean Peter Nicholson getting off scot free. She’d researched Nicholson on the Police National Database and had found him to be a smooth if shady operator. Linked to many petty criminals, he’d managed to amass a share of Cumbria’s organised crime without stepping on the toes of the Leighton family with enough weight enough to start a turf war. Arrested numerous times, he’d never been charged thanks to a rapacious lawyer who always found a way to nullify investigations.
Lauren recognised the man following Scruffy as Peter Nicholson. Well groomed, the black hair above his handsome face had the first showings of silvery grey.
Rising to her feet, Lauren extended a hand. ‘Hi I’m Monique.’
Nicholson took the hand and smiled, his appraisal of her was far quicker than Scruffy’s.
‘Peter Nicholson.’ He took a seat and gestured for her to do the same. When she was seated he turned to Scruffy. ‘You can go now. I’ll take it from here.’
Scruffy managed to look disappointed while scowling at his boss’s back. As he disappeared through the door behind the bar, Nicholson picked up the clipboard he’d carried with him.
‘I’ve a few questions for you and then I’d like you to demonstrate your dancing skills. Are you okay with that?’
‘Sure.’ Lauren nodded and hoped he didn’t see how false her smile was.
‘First off, have you worked as a dancer before?’
‘No.’
Nicholson’s eyebrows lifted a half inch. ‘Do you know what’s expected of dancers in a place like this?’
‘Of course. Men will pay me to strip for them.’ Lauren didn’t mention she’d researched lap dancing on the internet and had been to the lap dancing club in Carlisle where she’d had a couple of dances to supplement what she’d learned online.
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘That depends on how much they expect for their money.’
It was Nicholson’s turn to nod. ‘The rates in here are ten pound for topless and twenty for nude.’
‘What would I get from that?’ Lauren cursed herself. She