"And security?"
"All rooms are monitored. There's a strict no-touching policy in the main room and the show room. Casual contact is allowed in the sports bar, and in the fantasy rooms the option is yours. There is, however, a strict rule about no sex and no drugs of any kind. Participate in either of those activities on these premises, and you will be marched straight down to the local police station and charged."
"Warning heeded." I hesitated. "What about the dress code?"
"Costumes on stage, G-string for room work. In the fantasy rooms, we allow full nudity if the customer is paying for it."
"Sounds good."
She rose and offered her hand. "Good luck tonight, then."
I rose and clasped her hand. The tingly magic I'd been feeling all the way through the interview rose sharply, crawling across my hand and up my arm like a thousand biting insects. As I resisted the temptation to rip my hand away, the wristband Marg had given me suddenly got hot and the biting sensation abruptly fled.
Hanna released my hand quickly, and just for a moment, surprise and curiosity flitted through her green eyes. Whether that was a good thing or bad remained to be seen. "Matthew will give you the tour and show you where to change."
"Thank you."
The blue-suited man appeared in the doorway. "This way, please, Cecily."
"Call me CC. I prefer not to use my real name at work."
He nodded and motioned me into the hallway. I walked out, oddly relieved to be out of that room and away from Hanna Mein. She wasn't a threatening or intimidating person in any realistic way, and yet there was something about her-something other than her magic-that made my skin crawl.
Maybe it was simply that blankness in her eyes.
The rest of the club turned out to be a larger echo of the hallway, at least when it came to color and feel. The main room was dominated by a large stage that reached into the center of the room, lined with several rows of chairs. Tables and chairs were scattered around the rest of the room, and a large redwood bar dominated the far end. There were a few customers scattered about, some being tended to by dancers, some watching the blonde on the stage, and others standing at the bar getting drinks or talking to the waitstaff. The sports bar had billiards tables and a huge TV that dominated one wall. There were G-string-clad ladies here, some playing pool with the customers, others simply sitting down and chatting. There was no stage here, and no lap dancing happening. Some of the women were even wearing sporting-type tops-although they were skintight, and barely covered their breasts.
The show room was smaller than the main room, and it had no tables. Just a large stage surrounded by seats, all of which were empty.
"Shows don't start until ten," Matthew said, obviously noting my surprise. "We don't start getting the main crowd in here until at least nine, so it's not worth the expense of opening this room until then."
"Do the dancers here make much money?" I didn't really care, but it seemed the sort of question someone like CC would ask.
"Plenty. A lot of men prefer the titillation factor of flesh glimpsed under clothing over full-view flesh, and they are prepared to pay big to get it."
He led me into another hallway, this one larger than the one off the foyer. Half a dozen doors led off it and each one was labeled-schoolroom, Arabian nights, boardroom, and so on.
"The fantasy rooms, obviously," Matthew said. "These are all prebooked, so if a customer wants a private dance, he has to go up to the bookings office to get the room and dancer of his choice."
"Are matching costumes expected?"
"Yeah, but you can buy them in-house if you haven't got anything appropriate with you. It's only a basic materials charge."
"Then I'll be expected to get them for tonight?"
"If you dance as well as your resume boasts, then there's going to be a demand, so yes." He opened a door marked Staff Only, ushered me through, then began pointing to the various doors leading off the small foyer area. "Back here you have a staff lounge, locker room, and bathroom. The door to your left goes through to another office area and the costumes department. Perhaps you'd better go see them first. When you're ready, walk up to the main room and ask for Candy. She'll run through the rest of the rules for you.">"Why do those stupid things always hurt going in?" I asked, only to be a little startled by the sound of my new voice. It was more husky than raspy, and had a deepness that suggested it was coming from the depths of my toes. Calling it sexy was something of an understatement.
"Why do you always complain about the same damn things when you already know the answer?" He handed me a folder, and the twinkle in his silvery eyes grew. "Meet your new identity."
I opened the folder with some trepidation. The Directorate had come up with some pretty stupid cover names in the past. And, as it turned out, this was no different, "CC Buttons?" I looked up at him. "They are kidding, aren't they?"
He smiled. "CC is your stage name. Your actual cover name is Cecily Berg."
"Well, at least that's a little better," I grumbled, scanning my history quickly and memorizing it. Luckily, I had a pretty good recall for this sort of stuff. "These are actual clubs, I gather?"
"Yeah, but all but one have folded. And the owner of Lulu's is a good friend of Jack's, and owes him a favor. She'll rave appropriately about your performances."
"It's a wonder they let me leave," I said, reading through the more personal history. CC was an orphan and former street kid. How surprising. "You know, just once I'd love to have a nice family history for one of these jobs. I mean, it's not like there aren't strippers with happy lives and supporting families behind them."