Lindsey's Special Assignment
Who: Lindsey and Deanna
When: Saturday before last (It's a little late)
Where: Hot Tamale Strip Club *Not as nice as the Pink Kitty.*
What: Lindsey gets sent on a special 'mission' that involves lap dances. Wish I could get those assignments.
Lindsey entered the strip club. It wasn't really his type of establishment, but how many people could say that they got to come here as a part of a work project. Since moving to Sunnydale, he had been assigned to work on the project of figuring out who killed the father or the girl who was supposed to be sacrificed. He was sure that they all had names, but he couldn't remember them at the moment. The few leads that they had pointed toward one of the girls who worked here, since her younger sister was friends with the group who had broken into the LA offices a while ago. So now, here he was, getting paid to go to a strip club. Yeah, work was tough sometimes.
Nights like this at the Hot Tamale sucked, thought Deanna Kiske, or, as she was called at work, "Heather". Mostly half-drunk truckers who tried to spread the few dollars they had out as much as possible or creepy old men who were trying to figure out how to subtly cop a feel without getting their asses kicked by the bouncers. Deanna actually liked her job, but... nights like this? Being a stripper SUCKED. 'Dressed' in a micro-mini leather skirt, thigh-high white stockings, a sequined, red bikini top, and blood-red stiletto heels, she took a quick glance around to see if there was anyone who she might actually be able to get more than a few ones out of...
Lindsey spotted the woman he was supposed to go after, and it sunk in just how young she was. She couldn't have been over 21, if that. Still, work was work, and at least she was attractive. He walked right past the gaggle of other dancers who seemed to flock to him as soon as he walked through the door, making his way over to her.
Deanna saw Lindsey walking in her direction, and privately decided that yes, there truly was a god listening to her prayers. Good-looking? Check. Hell, try gorgeous. Young? Check. Guy couldn't be more than 25 or so. Money? Check. Guy looked like he hadn’t missed many paychecks. She walked over to him swaying her hip juuuuust right. She grinned and gave him an exaggerated wink. "You look like you could use a friend, sweetie..."
Stripper talk usually made him laugh, but he managed to keep it to a grin. "Actually, you're just the type of friend that I was looking for," he said to her. As far as assignments went, this one certainly wasn't the worst that he had ever had.
She stifled a laugh herself. She could tell that with this guy, the 'stripper talk' was only going to embarrass them both. "Ok, ok... so... let me be more real here." She pointed to a tall, buxom blonde with a Pam Anderson-esque figure. "Brandi over there is the hottest chick here. But she's with a regular who keeps her pretty busy all night. I don't feel cocky calling myself the second best-looking girl here. Guy as good-looking as you obviously doesn't wanna settle. Why don't you let me... hang out with you for a while?"
He looked her up and down, and then gave Brandi a quick look. "I like women to look less like a Barbie than that, personally. I wouldn't call hanging out with you 'settling' at any rate."
"Well, I can only hope your wallet is as generous as your words." She giggled, and offered her hand daintily. "I'm Heather... why don't we go have a seat near the stage, hm?"
"Lindsey." He shook her outstretched hand. He thought about kissing it, but thought that might be cheesy. The girl was supposed to like him, not think he was an idiot. "It's a pleasure to meet you. We can sit wherever you like."
It was rock night, where the ladies mostly danced to 80's rock tunes, and it was a personal favorite of Deanna's. As she playfully shoved him to the seat, she heard "The Zoo" by The Scorpions come on, and gave a mischievous grin. "Oh, this song will be JUST perfect, pet. Would you like a dance?" She silently prayed he'd say yes, maybe several times. At $20 per lap dance, this guy could very well end up paying for her next five outfits.
He almost laughed when the Scorpions came on. When he sat down in the chair, he met her mischievous grin with one of his own. "I'd love to have a dance." He laid his hands on his wallet so that he could pay her when necessary.
She slowly, methodically, straddled his lap as the beat picked up, grinding ever so rhythmically, as she shook her breasts softly about three inches from his face.
He had to admit; she was good. He couldn't believe that a girl this good was working at a place like this. She could have been working at a much nicer place, but Sunnydale didn't seem like it had a place good enough. He smiled and relaxed into the chair, watching her dance for him.
Without breaking the rhythm of the song, she reached behind her back, unlatching the bikini, and letting it slide down her shoulders and onto his lap. She leaned forward, grazing her cleavage, which she'd spritzed with perfume, along his nose.
He caught a whiff of the perfume and inhaled deeply, knowing that that was probably exactly what he was supposed to do.
She slipped the miniskirt off with a surprisingly graceful maneuver, and rolled with a feline grace, so that her back was facing him. Now clad only in her stockings and g-string, she slowly moved her rear up and down about an inch from his face, before turning around again, giving him intense eye contact as she lifted a leg and placed it on his shoulder, grinding her groin into his chest.
"And you were saying something about settling?" He asked in disbelief. He had to admit; he wasn't even sure if there was another girl in the room now with 'Heather' writhing in his lap.
Finally, the song ended, and she slowly stood. She stuck her hip in his direction, and grinned, motioning to her g-string. "That'll be $20, handsome."
He pulled out a twenty, plus a generous tip, and handed it to her. "Do you have anything like a private room here?"
"Well, a man who knows what he wants... I think I like you, sweetheart." She laughed, and pointed casually toward the area behind the stage. "We do... it's $200 for ten minutes. But trust me, honey... those ten minutes? Will make the dance I just gave you look like brunch with a nun."
He had come in here with several grand of company funded money, so that wouldn't hurt at all. "Then I think I need to see what is going to make this dance look like a nun's dance."
************************************************************************************************************************
"Alright. Then. Head over to The Bronze. If you don't know where it is, ask the bartender, and he'll give you directions. I'm gonna go talk to the boss, and I'll meet you there in a half hour."
"I hope that I'll see you there," he said, standing up. He headed out the door. He knew exactly where the Bronze was, and was soon on his way there.
Deanna followed him out, honestly wondering how lonely she must be to actually accept a date invite from a customer, no matter HOW cute he may be. But she figured a half hour would be enough time to call Meredith, and tell her what was going on so that if she went missing or got hurt, well... someone knew. She ran quickly to the payphone near the bar, and dropped some change in, dialing Mere's number and crossing her fingers that her friend would be home.
Mere picked up the phone at her house. She had been practicing with the band, but had managed to hear the phone during a quick break. "What's up?"
"Mere. Deanna. I'm leaving work early, and I wanted you to know." She paused, realizing how stupid that sounded. "A really super hot guy asked me out, and I'm being stupid enough to go. So... in case anything happens? His name is Lindsey McDonald, and he's from LA. Got it?"
"Lindsey McDonald?" For some reason, that name sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe her uncle knew him at that firm he worked at. "Where are you meeting him at?"
"The Bronze. Duh, babe, what else is OPEN in this podunk town?" She chuckled into the phone, looking around. "So, um, I'm gonna go, cuz I'm kinda standing here talking to you in a g-string with my boobs hanging out."
Mere snorted. "True 'nuff. Call me again when you make it home. If I don't hear from you by six a.m., I'm gonna start calling around, k?"
No fear, my dear." She laughed, realizing again how awesome her best friend was. "Love ya."
"Love ya." Mere hung up the phone, turning to yell at Lexi that yes, she was 'hurrying her ass' as quickly as possible and ran back into the garage.
When: Saturday before last (It's a little late)
Where: Hot Tamale Strip Club *Not as nice as the Pink Kitty.*
What: Lindsey gets sent on a special 'mission' that involves lap dances. Wish I could get those assignments.
Lindsey entered the strip club. It wasn't really his type of establishment, but how many people could say that they got to come here as a part of a work project. Since moving to Sunnydale, he had been assigned to work on the project of figuring out who killed the father or the girl who was supposed to be sacrificed. He was sure that they all had names, but he couldn't remember them at the moment. The few leads that they had pointed toward one of the girls who worked here, since her younger sister was friends with the group who had broken into the LA offices a while ago. So now, here he was, getting paid to go to a strip club. Yeah, work was tough sometimes.
Nights like this at the Hot Tamale sucked, thought Deanna Kiske, or, as she was called at work, "Heather". Mostly half-drunk truckers who tried to spread the few dollars they had out as much as possible or creepy old men who were trying to figure out how to subtly cop a feel without getting their asses kicked by the bouncers. Deanna actually liked her job, but... nights like this? Being a stripper SUCKED. 'Dressed' in a micro-mini leather skirt, thigh-high white stockings, a sequined, red bikini top, and blood-red stiletto heels, she took a quick glance around to see if there was anyone who she might actually be able to get more than a few ones out of...
Lindsey spotted the woman he was supposed to go after, and it sunk in just how young she was. She couldn't have been over 21, if that. Still, work was work, and at least she was attractive. He walked right past the gaggle of other dancers who seemed to flock to him as soon as he walked through the door, making his way over to her.
Deanna saw Lindsey walking in her direction, and privately decided that yes, there truly was a god listening to her prayers. Good-looking? Check. Hell, try gorgeous. Young? Check. Guy couldn't be more than 25 or so. Money? Check. Guy looked like he hadn’t missed many paychecks. She walked over to him swaying her hip juuuuust right. She grinned and gave him an exaggerated wink. "You look like you could use a friend, sweetie..."
Stripper talk usually made him laugh, but he managed to keep it to a grin. "Actually, you're just the type of friend that I was looking for," he said to her. As far as assignments went, this one certainly wasn't the worst that he had ever had.
She stifled a laugh herself. She could tell that with this guy, the 'stripper talk' was only going to embarrass them both. "Ok, ok... so... let me be more real here." She pointed to a tall, buxom blonde with a Pam Anderson-esque figure. "Brandi over there is the hottest chick here. But she's with a regular who keeps her pretty busy all night. I don't feel cocky calling myself the second best-looking girl here. Guy as good-looking as you obviously doesn't wanna settle. Why don't you let me... hang out with you for a while?"
He looked her up and down, and then gave Brandi a quick look. "I like women to look less like a Barbie than that, personally. I wouldn't call hanging out with you 'settling' at any rate."
"Well, I can only hope your wallet is as generous as your words." She giggled, and offered her hand daintily. "I'm Heather... why don't we go have a seat near the stage, hm?"
"Lindsey." He shook her outstretched hand. He thought about kissing it, but thought that might be cheesy. The girl was supposed to like him, not think he was an idiot. "It's a pleasure to meet you. We can sit wherever you like."
It was rock night, where the ladies mostly danced to 80's rock tunes, and it was a personal favorite of Deanna's. As she playfully shoved him to the seat, she heard "The Zoo" by The Scorpions come on, and gave a mischievous grin. "Oh, this song will be JUST perfect, pet. Would you like a dance?" She silently prayed he'd say yes, maybe several times. At $20 per lap dance, this guy could very well end up paying for her next five outfits.
He almost laughed when the Scorpions came on. When he sat down in the chair, he met her mischievous grin with one of his own. "I'd love to have a dance." He laid his hands on his wallet so that he could pay her when necessary.
She slowly, methodically, straddled his lap as the beat picked up, grinding ever so rhythmically, as she shook her breasts softly about three inches from his face.
He had to admit; she was good. He couldn't believe that a girl this good was working at a place like this. She could have been working at a much nicer place, but Sunnydale didn't seem like it had a place good enough. He smiled and relaxed into the chair, watching her dance for him.
Without breaking the rhythm of the song, she reached behind her back, unlatching the bikini, and letting it slide down her shoulders and onto his lap. She leaned forward, grazing her cleavage, which she'd spritzed with perfume, along his nose.
He caught a whiff of the perfume and inhaled deeply, knowing that that was probably exactly what he was supposed to do.
She slipped the miniskirt off with a surprisingly graceful maneuver, and rolled with a feline grace, so that her back was facing him. Now clad only in her stockings and g-string, she slowly moved her rear up and down about an inch from his face, before turning around again, giving him intense eye contact as she lifted a leg and placed it on his shoulder, grinding her groin into his chest.
"And you were saying something about settling?" He asked in disbelief. He had to admit; he wasn't even sure if there was another girl in the room now with 'Heather' writhing in his lap.
Finally, the song ended, and she slowly stood. She stuck her hip in his direction, and grinned, motioning to her g-string. "That'll be $20, handsome."
He pulled out a twenty, plus a generous tip, and handed it to her. "Do you have anything like a private room here?"
"Well, a man who knows what he wants... I think I like you, sweetheart." She laughed, and pointed casually toward the area behind the stage. "We do... it's $200 for ten minutes. But trust me, honey... those ten minutes? Will make the dance I just gave you look like brunch with a nun."
He had come in here with several grand of company funded money, so that wouldn't hurt at all. "Then I think I need to see what is going to make this dance look like a nun's dance."
************************************************************************************************************************
"Alright. Then. Head over to The Bronze. If you don't know where it is, ask the bartender, and he'll give you directions. I'm gonna go talk to the boss, and I'll meet you there in a half hour."
"I hope that I'll see you there," he said, standing up. He headed out the door. He knew exactly where the Bronze was, and was soon on his way there.
Deanna followed him out, honestly wondering how lonely she must be to actually accept a date invite from a customer, no matter HOW cute he may be. But she figured a half hour would be enough time to call Meredith, and tell her what was going on so that if she went missing or got hurt, well... someone knew. She ran quickly to the payphone near the bar, and dropped some change in, dialing Mere's number and crossing her fingers that her friend would be home.
Mere picked up the phone at her house. She had been practicing with the band, but had managed to hear the phone during a quick break. "What's up?"
"Mere. Deanna. I'm leaving work early, and I wanted you to know." She paused, realizing how stupid that sounded. "A really super hot guy asked me out, and I'm being stupid enough to go. So... in case anything happens? His name is Lindsey McDonald, and he's from LA. Got it?"
"Lindsey McDonald?" For some reason, that name sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe her uncle knew him at that firm he worked at. "Where are you meeting him at?"
"The Bronze. Duh, babe, what else is OPEN in this podunk town?" She chuckled into the phone, looking around. "So, um, I'm gonna go, cuz I'm kinda standing here talking to you in a g-string with my boobs hanging out."
Mere snorted. "True 'nuff. Call me again when you make it home. If I don't hear from you by six a.m., I'm gonna start calling around, k?"
No fear, my dear." She laughed, realizing again how awesome her best friend was. "Love ya."
"Love ya." Mere hung up the phone, turning to yell at Lexi that yes, she was 'hurrying her ass' as quickly as possible and ran back into the garage.