Time went on. My declining Melissa's invites must have made the rounds among the dancers and there were no more attempts on their parts to lure me into their beds. I learned the business inside and out to the point that I was asked to conduct the next round of interviews.

Prospective dancer interviews again vary from place to place. We had an industry standard application form they had to fill out before they sat and spoke with me. I gave them a brief explanation of the rules and regulations to see if they were comfortable with them. I then asked them to strip.

Before you accuse me of being some kind of sex pervert, let me explain. In the phone call the prospective dancer placed to find out where the interviews would be held they were advised to wear a bikini under their clothes. After completing the application they were escorted into the office I shared by the company secretary and asked to take a seat.

Questions on recent brushes with the law, drug and alcohol use and the reasons they left their last employer if it was a dance club. We had strict rules, no druggies or boozers. If they stated they needed a quick drink or snort to get them in the mood the interview was over.

 Then came the questions as to their social status. Married, engaged, involved and did their significant others know about this career? More than once the bouncers and police had to remove some outraged male that came in with a group of friends and found his lady love prancing around on stage in her Victoria Secret undies much to the delight of the male watching.

My last appoint of the day was a pretty blond female named Wendy. I could sense her nervousness and asked her to relax. I went over her application and it was apparent that she had never worked in this industry before since most of her jobs were either bar-tending or waitressing. 

She was new to the state and city having just moved here from up North. I questioned her residency and she produced the paid in full receipt for a furnished apartment one year in advance. 

"So why this job?"

"The money."

There were momentary tears as she told of moving here at the suggestion of her boyfriend. He would be following in a few weeks because if he didn't give his employers a two week notice he would not get his bonus check. It took every dollar she had to drive down here and secure a place to live and set up housekeeping.

He called a few weeks later to say he wasn't coming. His company offered a higher paying position that he couldn't turn down. Now she was stuck in Florida with maybe one hundred dollars to her name and no way to get home as her car needed tires and brakes, then there was the cost of fuel and tolls.

I asked her if she complied and wore a bikini under her clothes and she said yes. I then asked her to remove her clothing and her face reddened. She stood up and appeared to be frozen in place.

"If you can't do it for me, how are you going to be able to do it on stage in front of a club full of men?

"I don't know."

"I'll teach you a trick, just stare at the way behind me."

She stared and slowly removed her clothing, she was in magnificent shape.

"Can you dance?"

"Yes."

I turned on the radio and found a dance song and raised the volume. She stopped staring at the wall and closed her eyes and began to move to the beat, she moved very well and I let her dance until the song ended. I then asked her to get dressed.

I had doubts about extending a job offer. Yes, she was pretty and in great shape. Yes, she moved very well to music, but could she do it on stage? She looked at me wide eyed and trembling with nervousness at her unknown fate.

"OK, the job is yours if you want it."

She must have thanked me a dozen times. I had her fill out the new employee paperwork and then introduced her to Sabrina. Sabrina was the unofficial leader of the dancers and trainer. She would see to it that Wendy got settled in and would coach her as needed.

Friday night would be Wendy's first official night, trial by fire so to speak. The curtains parted and she was standing there with her head down. The music came up and she began to move to it. She smiled at the patrons as she removed her blouse and tossed it toward the wings. She them shimmied out of her very short skirt and began to work the edge of the stage where the males were waving bills.

The first patron must have had a fifty in his hand because she allowed him to unsnap her bra. She did her three songs and left the stage. I found her backstage counting her tips with a smile on her face.

"It's about one hundred and twenty dollars," she told me.

"It will only get better."

I sought out Sabrina to tell her she did a fine job with Wendy.

"I didn't do anything but loan her that skirt, that was all her out there," she informed me.

Oh it was frustrating at times when the girls discussed how much they made that night, some were taking home a minimum of five hundred dollars a night in tips. I was busting my butt to make sure that everything ran smoothly and only cleared five hundred a week. Well all good things must come to an end as the saying goes and it ended for me when I had a run-in with the owner.

The owner was an older female with the most disagreeable personality you've ever met, plus she was most unattractive. I used to describe her looks by saying that sometime in her youth someone held a pile of dog doo under her nose and when she reacted to the foul smell her face froze in that reaction and no it wasn't the result of a stroke.

The run in happened one afternoon shortly after Carrie took the center stage. Carrie was tall and lithe with long flowing red hair. She had produced a puppet from the wings and as she lay on the floor displaying her very long leg she operated the puppet and it popped up between her legs or around them. The puppet could open and close its eyes, raise its eyebrows and stick out its tongue.

The crowd loved it and as there was nothing X-rated about it I allowed her to continue. That's when the owner appeared at my side.

"Get that puppet away from her," she said in an irritating voice.

"She's keeping it clean and the crowd loves it."

"I said get that puppet away from her."

I approached the stage and asked Carrie for the puppet. She must have seen the owner standing in the back because she handed it over without protest. Well the crowd was not happy about their entertainment ending and I was booed and had things thrown at me while shouting mild obscenities. I bowed and pointed in the direction of the owner before I walked over and handed it to her.

"What did you do that for?" she inquired angrily.

"So they all knew that I wasn't the killjoy."

She then launched into a tirade about her owning this club since the 1960's and that she deserved my undivided attention and respect whenever she was on property. I listened to her rant in a voice that sounded like breaking glass without any expression and when she finished she folded her arms across her chest and stared at me as if awaiting an apology.

In response I merely removed the front door and office keys from my key ring and placed them in her jacket pocket.

"Stick this job up your ass," I said quietly and exited the building.

Sabrina, whom I had become good friends with, called me a few days later and informed me that a few of the dancers quit when they found out she would be covering the vacant position that my departure caused because they refused to work with her. I heard from her again about a month later that the training manager had quit also because her had enough of her crap.

All in all it was a great experience.