Kitabı oku: «Confessions of a Lapdancer»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Prologue

‘No physical contact. No fraternising. No wandering about. No extras.’

Chapter One

It was my first day back in the London office…

Chapter Two

The celebration at Corney & Barrow proceeded in the usual…

Chapter Three

It was time for me to put up or shut…

Chapter Four

I didn’t like the look of pity on Tania’s face…

Chapter Five

The morning sun streaming into my bedroom window helped me…

Chapter Six

I’ve always wanted to dance. When I was a girl…

Chapter Seven

Her story over, Jackie was suddenly back to business. ‘Right,…

Chapter Eight

She took us both down a spiral staircase into the…

Chapter Nine

My debut shift at the Pearl had been set for…

Chapter Ten

I strode on stage with as much attitude as I…

Chapter Eleven

Suzy had told me that once I’d done my duty…

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, there was a mound of paperwork to…

Chapter Thirteen

Of course, after a couple of weeks, the Pearl wasn’t…

Chapter Fourteen

Women sometimes came into the club with their partners or…

Chapter Fifteen

Well, we boarded this aircraft and I swear, it was…

Chapter Sixteen

It took Suzy less than fifteen seconds to find that…

Chapter Seventeen

I wandered over to him, letting my hips swing seductively.

Chapter Eighteen

As I sat in my office looking at Tania at…

Chapter Nineteen

I pulled on my khaki mini mac, wrinkled from being…

Chapter Twenty

Every summer growing up, I spend in Mierzeja Helska, on…

Chapter Twenty-One

When I worked my next shift, I wondered if I…

Chapter Twenty-Two

My heart was in my mouth, which made it difficult…

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next day in the office, I was now more…

Chapter Twenty-Four

I spent the first half of my life wanting to…

Chapter Twenty-Five

Some nights hit you completely unawares. This particular Saturday night…

Chapter Twenty-Six

Back in the club, I spotted Declan moving away from…

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the back of the tasteless stretch limo, Suzy immediately…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

My legs went weak. Now I had to do something.…

Chapter Twenty-Nine

How do you describe black hole? All I know is…

Chapter Thirty

The next day Irena was released from hospital, and that…

Chapter Thirty-One

After that night with Desmond and Dublin and Tony, Linda…

Chapter Thirty-Two

Two days later I was still reeling from the revelation…

Chapter Thirty-Three

I left work early and arrived at the Pearl with…

Epilogue

‘I knew the moment I saw you that somehow, sometime,…

Read on for an exclusive extract…

Madam

Original Titles from Mischief

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Prologue

‘No physical contact. No fraternising. No wandering about. No extras.’ Jackie reviews the rules while Suzy sips champagne and I strip out of my business suit. ‘We are wheels up in two hours, no exceptions. Once our limousine pulls clear of the security gates, we were never there.’

‘Very James Bond,’ I say, contorting to remove my bespoke silk suit. Thank God for tinted windows, or the commuters on Regent Street would be getting an eyeful.

‘More like Pussy Galore,’ Suzy retorts, refilling her glass with more bubbly.

I don’t normally work Tuesdays but Jackie practically begged – and Jackie doesn’t beg. I planned to pull an all-nighter at the office until I got her call on my mobile. Daryll expects my investment analysis with recommendations on his desk by Thursday morning. But I don’t often get the chance to make £1,000 for a few hours’ work.

I slipped out while the rest of the team went to reward themselves at the local Corney & Barrow. Daryll’s got a big client and we are all working our balls off to develop a kick-ass portfolio. I’m the only one on the team who doesn’t even technically have balls, which makes life more difficult, but ultimately more interesting. It used to be that my job in the city paid the bills and my night job helped with extras – like Zeus, my stallion, and a stable in Sussex. But lately it feels like the other way around.

Jackie said our engagement is strictly black tie. That means no latex or vinyl or any other kinky fantasy shit. Suzy’s best in the leather so I get to play the belle of the ball. Jackie unzips the garment bag. She’s loaning me one of the Pearl’s best gowns. I refuse to risk cum stains on the new Christian Dior strapless number I bought as a little bonus. I might as well give myself one since those tightwads at Sloane Brothers save the big bucks for the blokes.

I slip out of my bra and knickers: unsightly panty lines would spoil the flow of the crepe-backed satin. A few months ago I was a buttoned-up investment banker who barely exposed her wrists in public. Now I’m stark naked in the back of a limo sent by some European ambassador. Limos ooze sex. Long moving phalluses. Dark windows. Once I almost fucked the son of a sheikh in the back of a limo. I love fucking while in motion – cars, airplanes, motorcycles, double-decker buses. But that’s on my private time. Tonight it’s strictly cum dancing.

Jackie hands me a scarlet Vera Wang, with a plunging neckline and a side slit that almost meet. I wiggle into the gown.

‘Have I ever told you what nice tits you have?’ Suzy slurs.

‘You’re just buttering me up for some girl-on-girl action, you slut,’ I say, and flick my lacy black thong at her.

‘That’s enough,’ Jackie says, smoothing her long brown hair. She may be ten years my senior, but she’s got a rock-hard ass and tits that would make any 16-year-old bloke stand to attention. ‘We’re almost there.’

She hands me my wig. I exchange my short black spiky locks for shoulder-length auburn curls and transform from Geraldine Carson, investment banker, into Ginger, high-class lap dancer.

I can only imagine what you’re thinking, but please don’t judge me. I’m just a modern woman trying to make her way in a man’s world.

You think you’re different; it’s different.

Really?

Don’t kid yourself; it’s still a man’s world. Men still make more money for the same work. Hold more management positions and own more property than women. But it doesn’t mean they hold the power. Spend one night with me at the Pearl and I’ll show you who’s in control. You stand up in front of a few hundred sweaty men, whose cocks are so tense you can practically see their flies bursting, and tell me you don’t feel powerful. That sexual tension is intoxicating.

And, to be honest, investment banking isn’t all that different from lap dancing. It’s all about knowing your client and developing the right package. Revealing and withholding. It’s the same dance with a different audience. Sometimes everyone walks away satisfied. Sometimes you get fucked and other times you do the fucking.

The ambassador’s private secretary meets our limo at the back of the embassy. He opens the door and lowers his gaze. In my stilettos, I’m a full head taller than he is. He offers his hand and helps me across the gravel. He has an oily olive complexion and smells of garlic. He is used to being invisible. He ushers us in the back door through the kitchen and into the embassy’s study. The staff has been dismissed early and the embassy is eerily quiet. He shows us into an oak-panelled study. I imagine two dignitaries exchanging state secrets over a civilised snifter of brandy – not two fit women lap dancing.

When the ambassador enters with his entourage, he sits in the leather wing-back chair Jackie has positioned in front of the Victorian desk. Everyone but his private secretary and his bodyguard exits. The bodyguard closes the velvet blue-fringed drapes and dims the lights. He positions himself by the only door, a solid wooden number built to withstand a military invasion. Jackie has a whispered conversation with the secretary. Are his rimless spectacles fogging up? She is reviewing the rules and, if I know Jackie, giving the arrogant prick a tantalising taste of what’s to come. She’s here to make sure her girls are treated properly – and to dance if the ambassador fancies a more experienced pussy.

While Suzy flips out her compact and puts the final touches on her Marilyn Monroe look – matte red lipstick, a beauty mark on her left cheek and a little eyeliner to create her trademark cat eyes – Jackie pulls me aside. ‘Slight problem,’ she says, giving me her sweetest smile and batting her eyes at the ambassador. I’m sure that’s gotten her what she wants over the years. ‘The ambassador doesn’t like redheads.’

‘So you dance,’ I say, relaxing a little.

‘He likes the look of you.’ She pulls me closer; she’s squeezing my arm.

‘But I’m a redhead,’ I say through clenched teeth and jerk my arm free. She knows I don’t dance without the wig. I don’t dance as Geri.

‘God, Geri, do it for me, just this once. Don’t be such a bloody ice princess and help a sister out.’

Now we’re sisters? She thinks of herself as the designated fairy godmother for the dancers at the Pearl, but she’s more like the prison matron.

‘It’s only for three foreigners – two of whom I’m not even sure speak English,’ she pleads.

‘For an extra two hundred,’ I say, and loop a finger through one of my curls.

‘You drive a hard bargain.’ She smacks me on the ass.

Damn. She agreed too quickly which means I should have asked for more.

‘You remind me of me,’ she adds.

I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended. I slip the wig off and hand it to her. I ruffle my short hair. Jackie plucks at a few strands on top and I smooth the sides. Suddenly I feel naked.

Suzy dances first. She’s the better warm-up act and will most likely be stumbling drunk by the end of the evening. Jackie turns a blind eye because Suzy has danced at the Pearl for years. She’s everyone’s big sister and drunken aunt all mixed into one. But she knows how to keep her legs open and her mouth shut.

I lurk at the back of the room. I like to build an air of mystery. I finger the dusty volumes on the bookshelf. The ambassador watches Suzy’s routine but he glances at me every so often. I look away and play the shy coquette. My show starts before I even take centre stage. Jackie has taught me well.

Suzy slinks off and drapes herself around the secretary who is responsible for keeping the champagne flowing. He shrugs her off, afraid, I’m sure, of her sweat staining his best suit. I nod at Jackie and Tina Turner blares from the Bose portable sound system – Jackie’s most recent investment after her old boom box died at a high roller’s boardroom party.

I start off slow and keep it simple. I stretch my legs and show him what he’s paid for. I let him unzip me; that’s about the closest he’ll get to touching me for the rest of the night. Jackie cranks up the music and shifts to Joan Jett and the Blackhearts’ ‘I Hate Myself for Loving You’. After years of practice, Jackie knows how to read the mood of a room. She’s taught me how to synchronise the music and my movement to ratchet up a client’s sexual tension. Tease them. Draw them in and then push them away. Let their libido rise and fall. Make their pulses pound with the beat and their cocks beg for more.

One look at the ambassador’s rosy cheeks and his sweaty brow and I know it’s already working. I waste no time. I slink out of the gown and let it pool at my feet. I step one spiked fire-engine-red stiletto free and then the other. It’s easy to let little moves like this wreck the illusion. Every movement must be fluid. Tripping over discarded clothes or a sticky zipper can lose the momentum you’ve painstakingly built.

I melt to the floor and crawl towards him. I claw the oriental carpet as I pull myself closer and closer. I can feel his body tense. He is already gripping the chair so tightly his knuckles are white. I pull myself upright and give him a good, long look at my hairless pussy. I slide one finger between my pussy lips and dip it inside me. The ambassador’s not the only hot and horny one.

He uncrosses his legs and pins them together. There’s the tell-tale sign – the cock rub, a quick adjustment when the strain gets too much. His eyelids are half closed as his whole world shrinks to the head of his penis. I straddle him, feeling my thigh muscles strain to hold my gyrating form inches from his dick.

He’s gritting his teeth. His back involuntarily arches. I hover lower and brush his cock ever so slightly. He’ll be wondering if he imagined it. He wants to grab my hips and ram his cock inside of me. He’d hand over the keys to the kingdom if I’d ask. He’d whisper state secrets and sell his youngest son right about now, if only I’d unzip his trousers and lower myself on to him.

Sometimes I try to make clients cum in their pants. I like watching how their faces contort with orgasm and then slowly morph into pink-cheeked embarrassment. But no party tricks tonight.

I turn it back a notch. I strut away. I cross my legs as if I’m about to spin around. I flick a quick look over my shoulder. I’ve still got him where I want him. He’s squirming in his chair. I bend over slowly, running my hands down my sweaty legs, pausing at my ankles – the naughty schoolgirl begging to be spanked. He’s leaning forward, willing my legs to part. He wants to see my soft glistening pussy.

Not yet. Be patient. I slide back to standing and strike a strong pose – legs wide, inviting. I twist around and wink then bend over again, this time exposing myself to him. He actually moans. A sly smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I take my time swaying back and forth as I stand up again.

I turn to face him. I grip my thighs and drag my long, red nails along my lilywhite skin. I cup my breasts, not like most men do, not as if I’m grabbing a pint of beer. I hold them as if they are bubbles ready to pop with the lightest touch. I tense each nipple between my fingers and then draw them up towards my mouth. I flick my tongue over each nipple and eye him as if to say you wish it was you. But it’s me. I’m catching each wave of pleasure that courses through my body. The ambassador’s merely along for the ride.

The music rises and the beat quickens. I move faster, frantic. Now I’m an animal barely restrained. Sweat sprays from my body with every movement. The music shifts gears and everything but the bass falls away. On the final beat, I stop and pose. My chest rises and falls as I catch my breath.

For the finale, a little Def Leppard, ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’. I stride over to him, a model on a catwalk. His eyes are insistent and demanding. I hold his gaze. I tease his legs apart with the pointy toe of my shoe. I rest my foot on the chair with the toe of my shoe gently caressing his crotch. I lunge forward. I hold my breasts close to his face. I brush my nipples across his rough, dry lips. The tip of his tongue flicks my nipple as I pull away and I cross my arms tight across my chest. I bend over him slowly and lick my lips as if I might kiss him, but I snap away at the last minute. He groans and his eyes roll to the back of his head. My work here is done.

I freshen up in the toilet while Jackie collects the payment from his secretary and the bodyguard helps Suzy to the limo. I wonder if he will try to feel her up in her compromised state. I should go out there to make sure she’s OK.

The gown is a bit wrinkled now, but otherwise I’m no worse for wear. Normally the wig and borrowed costumes make it easy to believe that this person isn’t Geri Carson. Ginger really lives a parallel life. But now without the wig, my reflection in the bathroom mirror makes me uncomfortable. I’ve blurred the line.

There’s a knock on the door. ‘Coming,’ I say, and laugh to myself.

When I open the door, the ambassador is looming large in the archway. He is handsome for a near senior citizen. I find his greying temples sexy. It’s the round belly and the hairy knuckles that turn me off. I notice his gold wedding band and wonder where his respectable wife is. Is she upstairs sleeping? Will she have to satisfy the urges that I’d teased to the surface?

‘I would like to take you to bed,’ he says.

I smile. This is the tricky part. Turn them down yet still make them repeat customers.

‘I will pay.’

I slip past him. I don’t want to be trapped in the bathroom. ‘What a very flattering offer, but I really can’t.’

He catches up to me and pins me against the wall. His stomach keeps us a good few inches apart. ‘I like you.’

‘With all due respect,’ I start, and quickly realise that the respect he is due is nil, ‘you don’t know me.’

‘But I would like to,’ he says, stroking my arms with his fleshy palms.

I shiver. ‘Listen, Mr Ambassador, you can’t afford me.’ I side step free and walk away.

I pause. He did have a nice smile.

‘Name your price.’

And with that I’m gone.

I race off to find Jackie but the study is empty. It’s dark and looks like a library again. The books and leather seem to have absorbed the sexuality from earlier. I walk to the centre of the room and slowly spin around. I’d like to have a home like this some day, minus the lap dancers and toady private secretary.

That’s when I notice it – a tiny red light blinking in one corner near the ceiling. A camera. Our entire performance was captured on film. I feel more exposed than I have ever been at the club.

I run out to the limo, losing one shoe like Cinderella on the way, but I’m too panicked to care. I grab Jackie by the collar and spin her around as she’s ducking into the limo. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ I’m screaming at her. I push her against the car.

‘What the hell?’ Jackie shoves me off and looks around. ‘What are you doing? Trying to wake the neighbours and blow our chance for a repeat performance?’

‘A repeat performance? He simply has to press rewind and play any time he wants.’ I’m poking my finger into the centre of her chest.

‘What in the hell are you talking about?’ She grabs me by the shoulders. ‘And it better be good because no one talks to me like this.’

‘They filmed us. The room is wired like a fucking movie set.’ I kick off my other shoe.

‘They what?’ Her cheeks flush. She looks up at a light in a second-floor window, probably a bedroom, where the ambassador is already more than likely wanking off watching the video replay. ‘I expressly told them no filming. Filming’s extra.’ She turns to me. ‘I would never let them film without your permission.’ She looks me in the eyes. ‘You believe me, don’t you?’

I want to but I shrug.

She grabs my stiletto and hurls it at the lit window. ‘Bastards,’ she screams. She takes off towards the embassy in time to see the bodyguard slam the door shut. I can hear the deadbolt clank. We aren’t getting back in there tonight. ‘I swear to you, Geri, we’ll get that tape. No one fucks me about like this.’

Maybe I’ve spoken too soon. Maybe I’m in over my head. All I need is for that video to end up on YouTube and life as I know it is over. I can already see the headline: Investment Banker by Day, Stripper by Night. I’ve worked too hard to climb the corporate ladder and tap that glass ceiling to see it wiped away by one stupid mistake.

How could I have let this happen?

Chapter One

Two months earlier

It was my first day back in the London office after a bumpy transatlantic flight and I didn’t have the stomach for a fight. I crossed my fingers and hoped my guardian angel would get through the next twelve hours unscathed.

What annoyed me most was that I’d had no time to get the inside track on Sloane Brothers’ latest golden boy, Luke Cotterill, apart from the fact that he had quickly established himself as a smart, smooth operator who worked hard and played even harder. Being on secondment in New York for six weeks had left me out of the loop, and out of the loop was not a place I liked to be.

However, there were some small mercies – the weak dollar had provided me with a new wardrobe of beautifully tailored trouser suits that I’d picked up at Saks Fifth Avenue, so it was with an extra swagger in my step and wearing black Armani that I approached the company’s HQ that morning. Another bonus had been the amount of horny NY investment bankers, one of whom I ended up fucking on the walnut desk of his Wall Street office.

I was prepared to meet the new PA who had been recruited in my absence but there was no sign of her as I strode towards my glass box on the third floor. The fact that I’d recently been given my own office had ruffled some feathers on the team, but I’d insisted on it, given my seniority in Mergers and Acquisitions.

Most of the guys had their noses buried in the FT when I arrived but were suspiciously quiet. They didn’t usually pass up the opportunity to make a fatuous remark. Then I noticed that my office door was open and a man with a shock of ruffled blond hair was sitting in my chair with his back to me.

‘Can I help you?’ I asked in my best clipped voice.

The chair swung round. ‘Do I have to get up before you sit down?’ the occupant replied.

I felt myself boiling up inside but betrayed nothing.

‘Ah, Mr Cotterill I presume? Is that your way of greeting a senior colleague? How unusual …’

‘The famous Miss Carson, if I’m not mistaken,’ he replied without flinching. ‘Thought I would form a one-man welcoming party and warm your seat, so to speak.’

‘I usually have trespassers evicted but I’ll let it pass on this occasion,’ I told him, the false teasing note in my voice not fooling either one of us. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have a lot of catching up to do.’

‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ he continued, regardless. I look forward to working you … I mean working with you …’

‘Look, Luke, I’m sure we will be having a briefing session soon so please can you leave my office now so I can prepare for it?’ I snapped.

‘Ooh, I already love it when you’re angry,’ he said, grinning at me. ‘I look forward to receiving further lashes of your tongue.’

‘I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you,’ I told him. ‘So I’d advise you to focus less on my tongue and more on keeping a civil tongue in your head.’

‘No need to be so buttoned-up, Geri,’ he said. ‘You’ll find out I’m a laid-back kind of guy really. I like to get laid back at my place …’

‘Right, out of my office, now!’ I ordered, still keeping that headmistress tone, like this was all Carry On and nothing to get worked up about, while tipping him forward out of my chair, ‘and it’s Geraldine to you.’

‘You’re no fun,’ he said, reluctantly getting up and walking towards the door. ‘I’m just having a little joke with you.’

‘Well, Luke, I can share a good joke with the best of them,’ I said. ‘Let’s just hope we share the same work ethic.’

‘I’m not afraid to burn the midnight oil, Geri,’ he said, ignoring my request to address me by my full name, ‘as you will no doubt discover. See you later, Miss Sourpuss.’

And with that, Luke Cotterill moved his wise ass out of my space and back into his domain.

I closed the door behind him and felt like fumigating the place. I was rattled by his rudeness but I knew he wanted to provoke a reaction in me.

It didn’t help that he was tall and lean as an Olympic rower, with the good looks to go with the physique.

And boy did he know it. He was clearly accustomed to women falling for his charms on a regular basis. This one was a dangerous beast, and I could not afford to give him the slightest ammunition.

Just as I was pondering how to deal with him, a young woman with long red hair came to sit down at the desk outside my office. So this was my new PA, Tania Peck.

I scrutinised her for a good few minutes. She had a great body, with legs up to her armpits and a ballet dancer’s posture that thrust her boobs out in front of her like heat-seeking missiles.

Everything about her shrieked ‘Look at me, boys!’ and I guessed it had been Daryll Sidebottom’s idea to hire her, probably to ‘cheer up the office’ or some such nonsense, but there was no point in arguing with the head of the investment team.

It pissed me off that she was flaunting herself in such an obvious way. I had the seemingly unpopular idea that hard work, intelligence and talent might actually get you places, so I had always been careful to cover myself up.

I felt like giving Tania a good talking-to but knew I’d be wasting my time. She was only 20, and she wouldn’t listen to a 28-year-old like me.

My face was a studied mask of indifference when she stood up and walked into my office, proffering her hand.

‘Miss Carson, it’s really nice to meet you at last. I hope you had a fun stay in New York,’ she said, speaking in an accent that was pure Sarf London, flashing a set of perfect white teeth.

‘Yes, it was a valuable experience,’ I told her, making eye contact but not accepting the handshake. ‘And please, call me Geri.’

‘OK, thanks Geri,’ she replied sweetly, flicking her long, flowing red hair off her face. ‘Give me a shout when you want to go through your correspondence.’

I nodded and closed my office door, making sure she realised I wanted a boundary between us. She was being too nice – a sure sign of a hidden agenda.

I sat down to check my emails and at the top of my inbox was a message from Ryan Buxton, the best-looking guy on the team and also my occasional fuck buddy.

Now please don’t pre-judge me. The ‘work hard, play hard’ adage didn’t really apply at Sloane Brothers. It was all work. My social life consisted of keeping up with college friends via facebook. I ate, breathed and dreamed the job. Had done for four years now. That was my world. Ryan was good for a no-strings shag when the fancy took me.

In the subject line were the words: Watch out, there’s a mole about! I opened it up and read the contents:

Welcome back, Geri – see you’ve met your hot new PA! Don’t be fooled by that cute exterior, she’s a smart cookie. Guess who she’s shagging? Only Luke Cotterill!

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. Tania probably thought it was a great career move; I thought it was career suicide.

In six short weeks, Luke had managed to put his alpha male stamp in every corner of the company like a dog marking its territory.

Luke had also sent me an email.

Guess you’ve heard the big horizontal merger has just gone through. Are we hot or what? Well, I am anyway!

Of course I knew about the deal; I’d been an integral part of the team that pulled it off for the company. I didn’t dignify his email with a response and spent a few moments quietly observing Tania before calling her in.

‘OK, here are a few ground rules,’ I said. ‘First, everything that passes between us in this office is confidential. Second, I expect you to show some initiative, but not to put anything into action unless I’ve approved it first. Understood?’

‘Oh, of course, Geri. Deffo,’ she replied, without a crack appearing in her smile.

Looking beyond Tania I could see that Luke was gathering some of the team around him.

I walked out into the main office to drop a document on a colleague’s desk. As I did, Luke made sure I heard him inviting the guys – or ‘the Brothers’, as he insisted on calling them – out to celebrate the big merger deal. I wasn’t having that, obviously, and went to have a quiet word with him.

‘Luke, I don’t care if the Sisters are not officially invited, I’m not missing out on this Brothers’ party,’ I said. ‘I had as much to do with this deal as anyone else.’

‘Ahh, it’s Geri Boy,’ he sneered, loudly enough so that half the office could hear him. ‘She who wears the trousers and wants to be one of the lads.’

‘As I said before, it’s Geraldine to you,’ I said, grinning at the other guys on the team. ‘The first Jeroboam is on me, OK?’

‘Ooh, that’s a big bottle for a little lady,’ laughed Luke, surrounded by giggling cronies. ‘Will you need a man to help you with that?’

I bit my lip while trying to think of a decent comeback but thought better of it and marched purposefully back to my office. Tania was blocking the doorway. Was that a sympathetic smile or a smirk on her face? I couldn’t be bothered to work it out.

‘Tania, if you’ve got something to say, then say it.’

‘Oh Geri, don’t let them get to you,’ she said. ‘I’m coming tonight as well, we’ll have some fun, you’ll see.’

‘Right, fine,’ I said, incensed that Luke had invited her and not me. I’d only been out of the office for six weeks but I felt like I’d already lost my place in the team. ‘You’d better be prepared to buy your round, though.’ I immediately regretted that – there was no way a legal PA would be able to keep up with the spending.

I asked her to phone ahead to Corney & Barrow to make sure they were well stocked with Bollinger and Krug before the Sloane Brothers’ wrecking crew arrived, and went back to work.

The rest of the day passed without much incident, with Luke postponing our briefing meeting, apparently in a gesture of kindness to let me properly recover from jet lag, but I guessed he was doing it as some kind of power play.

As the sun went down, I went to the ladies to prepare myself for the night ahead.

I’d always thought of myself as handsome rather than pretty and preferred short hair to long, but even I had to admit my spiky, jet-black cut – inspired by early Siouxsie Sioux, I liked to think – was quite a strong statement.

I didn’t wear much make-up at the office but for the evenings I liked to emphasise my pale skin and blue eyes by wearing deep crimson lipstick, black mascara and liquid eye liner.

I always wore my armour, though – a trusty black trouser suit worn with a polo neck or a shirt. Even wearing a skirt at work made guys like Luke think I was weak.

Tania came in.

‘Geri, sorry to interrupt, but the guys are ready to leave and we don’t want to be left behind, do we?’ she said.

‘OK, Tania, I’ll be ready in a mo,’ I told her.

After a good five minutes, I joined the male members of staff by the front entrance. Luke leered at Tania while I made eye contact with Ryan. He was a little too rugby club for my liking but served a purpose on the nights I felt horny.

At least Daryll was a man who knew his own mind. As our boss, he walked around the office with a proprietorial air that I found patronising, and he never attempted to curb the offensive locker-room banter indulged in by the guys, but I did respect his knowledge and experience.

‘Daryll, how good of us to join you,’ I said, cheekily.

‘Very droll, Geraldine,’ he replied in his deep, Leslie Phillips-esque drawl. ‘I believe the first bottle will be on your account? And I trust I will not be seeing it on your expenses.’

‘Of course not, Daryll,’ I laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dream of fleecing Sloane Brothers out of their hard-earned cash. Even though I’ve earned most of it for them.’

He smiled lasciviously.

‘You have the cheek of the devil, young lady,’ he winked, ‘but I admire you for it.’

I winked back before exiting the office with Tania in tow, leaving the boys to make their own way to the bar.

Luke and his posse were right behind me though as I calmly strolled into Corney & Barrow and before I knew it he was reaching his long arm over me in an attempt to grab the neck of the £200 Jeroboam that Tania was holding, like an eager puppy, ready to please.

‘No, Luke. This baby’s mine,’ I said firmly.

‘So you like them big, do you, Geri Boy?’ he taunted. ‘Well, let’s see whether you can make it shoot!’

Ryan, who had zero loyalty to me despite our ‘relationship’, laughed right on cue, leaving me to work on removing the cork. I wedged the bottle between my toned thighs and gradually worked it loose, hearing that reassuring pop as Tania was poised with a flute to catch any overspill.

‘Oh, good show,’ said Luke. ‘Hardly a drop wasted!’

I ignored him, instructing Tania to fill the glasses as I tested my muscle strength by gradually tipping the bottle until it was empty.

‘Wow, Geri, I’m impressed!’ said Tania. ‘Where did you get thighs like that?’

‘I’m an experienced show jumper,’ I replied, enjoying the look of surprise on her face.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘How did you get into that?’

‘Through Daryll, four years ago,’ I told her. ‘He’s always kept horses and he suggested I take lessons. Once I started, I found I had a natural talent for it. I’d recommend it to any woman – it exercises muscles you didn’t know you had and gives you great posture.’

‘Well, Geri – you are a dark horse, if you’ll pardon the pun,’ she giggled.

I laughed politely but inside I felt uncomfortable. I hoped she’d never find out that I only started working with horses in order to keep in with Daryll and advance my career.

‘Geri, are you OK?’ asked Tania, who could see I was drifting off.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I replied. ‘Just thinking about Zeus, my gorgeous bay stallion.’

‘What, you own a horse?’ said Tania, her eyes widening.

‘Yes, he’s 16.2 hands, part thoroughbred, part warm blood,’ I said. ‘I keep him at a stable near my parents’ house in Sussex.’

‘God, that can’t be cheap,’ Tania remarked.

‘No, but he’s a beauty and worth every penny,’ I said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and talk to my boss.’

Tania gawped at me. Jesus, Geraldine, I thought to myself. Don’t forget, this girl is Luke Cotterill’s piece of totty. Zip it …

Aside from my flings with Ryan, I didn’t like to mix business with pleasure too much.

Chapter Two

The celebration at Corney & Barrow proceeded in the usual fashion, with obscene amounts of champagne being bought and consumed and the boys becoming louder and more annoying with every bottle.

I managed to keep pace with them by sipping water each time I took a mouthful of fizz so I didn’t get totally pissed. At least they couldn’t accuse me of being a lightweight.

As the barman called last orders, Luke gathered the guys around him and called for silence.

‘So, Brothers – the fun has only just begun!’ he slurred. ‘You’re all coming with me to a sexy little place I know called the Pearl, where we’ll get down to the serious business of celebrating.’

‘What’s the Pearl?’ I asked Tania, thinking it was some after-hours drinking den.

‘Oh, it’s a lap-dancing club,’ she replied, casually.

‘Bloody typical,’ I said. ‘He’s probably just trying to piss me off.’

Tania looked at me blankly and said, ‘Oh, right. Well, actually it was my idea, not Luke’s.’

Before I had a chance to find out how the hell Tania knew about a lap-dancing club, Luke had come over to pat her on the behind.

‘Coming then, sweetheart?’ he said to Tania, but looking directly at me. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been caught dead in a strip club. I hated those sorts of places. They were nothing but exploitation. But I couldn’t ignore the flagrant challenge in Luke’s eyes.

‘Oh no, Mr Cotterill, you’re not getting away with this,’ I said. ‘You’re not leaving me off the guest list.’

‘You’ll just spoil our fun, Geri Boy,’ he said.

‘I insist,’ I said.

‘Well, I guess my hot little babe here might need some company while I’m otherwise engaged,’ he continued. ‘But you’d better not spoil the party.’

Quite why Tania couldn’t see that Luke was using her as arm candy, I had no idea, but there was no point in me tackling her about it as she probably would’ve thought I was jealous. Far from it.

How the fuck could Daryll condone all of this? But perhaps it wasn’t a surprise. However urbane, he was a bit of an old lech himself. I felt he’d thrown me to the wolves by not preparing me for Luke’s relentless barrage of snide comments but then I had to remember what he’d told me when I joined Sloane Brothers: ‘If you want to play with the big boys, Geraldine, you have to beat them at their own game.’ Was Daryll checking to see if I was capable of that?

I followed Tania and Luke out of the bar to be greeted by a white stretch limo. Luke had hired it to ferry the Brothers to the club, which I found utterly laughable.

‘Want a ride in my pimp mobile?’ he asked.

‘I’ll make my own way, thanks, Luke,’ I laughed. ‘If I’d wanted to look like a chav on a stag night I would have worn Burberry and plenty of bling.’

And with that I hopped straight into a black cab, most satisfied that I’d got one over on the arrogant bastard right in front of his boss. If Daryll wanted me and Luke to be at each other’s throats, then he was getting just that.

By the time the Brothers’ stretch had pulled up outside the Pearl, my taxi had already dropped me off and I had made friends with the club’s two enormous doormen.

I watched in disgust as Luke fell out of the limo clutching a half-empty champagne glass and staggered towards the entrance to the Pearl dragging Tania behind him like a blow-up doll.

The two bouncers on the door blocked his path, while he stood waving a bunch of crumpled tenners in their faces.

I winked to let them know this was the party of pissed-up City boys I had the misfortune to be with, and handed one a crisp £50 note. And with that we were in.

‘As you say, Luke, I always wear the trousers so put your money away,’ I said. ‘No need to bribe security. Use it to buy me some very expensive cocktails.’

‘What about some very expensive cock, Miss Carson?’ he shot back. A comment he would never have dared make sober or in the office. ‘Although mine’s out of your price range.’

Tania stood next to him toying nervously with her long, red hair.

‘Hilarious,’ I replied, moving through the club’s entrance. ‘Just get inside, I can’t wait to see an animal in its natural habitat.’

The remainder of the investment team spilled out on to the pavement slightly the worse for wear. Even Daryll looked less dapper than usual, the handkerchief that matched his shirt sitting slightly askew in his jacket pocket.

Then Ryan Buxton came bounding towards me like an overgrown puppy, all ruddy cheeks and rugger-bugger enthusiasm.

‘So, Geri, are you up for this?’ Ryan asked.

‘I’m not missing this one for the world,’ I told him, avoiding the arm he was trying to put around me.

‘I thought you hated places like this, though. You always tell me how sexist they are.’

‘I’m not a big fan, no,’ I told him, ‘but I don’t get to see the Brothers at play too often and I was as much a part of pulling off this merger as anyone else.’

‘You’re not wrong there, darling,’ he said, nuzzling my neck while no one else was looking. ‘Come in and join the fun, then.’

The interior of the club was surprisingly plush if clichéd in its style, with padded red and black leather booths, mirrored walls and mirror balls, with four or five dancing poles arranged on different levels, some with tables around them.

A petite brunette with enhanced breasts jiggling in her bikini brushed past me on her way to the stage and I flinched. What the hell was I doing in a lap-dancing club?

The things I did to advance my career …

Our bonuses were being announced the next day and my colleagues were discussing figures in voices loud enough for everyone to hear how loaded they were and how much more loaded they expected to be within twenty-four hours.

‘How pathetic,’ I said to Tania, who had momentarily been abandoned. ‘It’s all big cars, big bonuses and big dicks to them – except they probably have tiddlers!’

Tania laughed politely.

‘Oh, I’m sure there’s more to them than that, Geri. They must have some talent, after all.’

‘I wouldn’t bank on it, Tania,’ I said. ‘You haven’t been my PA long enough to work that out yet.’

Tanya turned to smile at her man and I glimpsed a steeliness in her eyes.

Daryll beckoned us to join the Brothers at their large banquette.

Not long after we arrived, one of the club’s dancers, a pretty girl with long, dark hair and olive skin who was dressed in a red spangled bra top and thong, approached our table and Luke beckoned her to one side.

‘What’s he up to?’ I whispered in Tania’s ear.

‘Oh, he’s just arranging to have a private dance.’

‘Jesus, how can you sit by and let him do that? Do you have no self-respect?’

‘It’s not about that, Geri …’

I didn’t want to hear any more.

‘Excuse me, Daryll,’ I announced. ‘I can’t sit here and watch this. I’m going to the bar.’

He nodded but Luke jumped up.

‘What, you not man enough to hang around, Geri Boy? I knew you wouldn’t last.’

Words seemed pointless so I gave him the finger and stalked off.

I went to sit on a stool at the bar and ordered a vodka and tonic. I picked out the wedge of lemon when it arrived and crushed it hard in my fist till the juice ran down my arm, wishing it was Luke’s smug face.

‘What did that lemon do to deserve that?’ said the barman, offering me a napkin.

‘Oh, nothing – I was just imagining it was someone’s head,’ I explained.

‘Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of you then, madam,’ he grinned.

‘I’m not that scary,’ I said. ‘Except when provoked by an idiot who thinks it’s funny to call me a boy just because I wear trousers.’

‘Take no notice. You look real smart to me.’

‘Thanks … But I do feel a bit buttoned-up here and I’m supposed to be celebrating. Look at them,’ I said, pointing to the Brothers. ‘Allegedly the cream of investment banking. They didn’t want me here being a killjoy but a strip joint is not exactly my idea of a fun night out.’

‘Ah, we get a lot of City boys in here letting off steam,’ he said. ‘They’re pretty harmless and they empty their wallets so we love ’em.’

‘You try working with them, though. I wish I’d stayed in New York now.’

‘Ah, I love the Big Apple,’ he said. ‘Worked the cocktail bars. How long were you there?’

‘Six weeks, on secondment. Got back to London to find my boss had employed a Playboy bunny as my PA and she was going out with my nemesis.’

‘Moral of story: don’t turn your back for a minute. Want another vodka?’

‘OK, go on,’ I said, turning to check what the Brothers were up to. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Do you think it’s possible for a woman to be sexy if she never wears a skirt?’

‘I love a good bottom in tight jeans. But, well, nothing like a good pair of legs.’

‘I thought you might say that.’ My knees haven’t seen the light of day outside my bedroom since school sports day … I thought to myself.

But he’d already disappeared off to the other end of the bar to serve a rather irritated-looking little man and one of the dancers had mounted the adjacent podium to start her show. As I watched her spin and move expertly up and down the pole, I realised it was just as much about technique as sex appeal. These girls had to be seriously fit to do this stuff.

Then I glimpsed a tipsy but animated Tania chatting to a good-looking, dark-haired guy at the other end of the bar. As soon as she realised I’d seen her, she moved away and came up to join me.

‘You don’t look too happy,’ she said, as if I was her best mate rather than her boss. I didn’t know whether she was confident, over-friendly or just cocky.

‘I just can’t believe why anyone would want to spend any time in a place like this. It’s for blokes too ugly or too dim to get a shag elsewhere. I don’t think women should encourage it.’

‘Lighten up,’ said Tania. ‘There’s nothing wrong with using what God gave you.’ She leant forward and gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’ll tell you something funny, Geri. I’m sure one of the reasons I got this job was because of my legs! I saw the way the personnel manager was looking at me so I played up to it. It’s so easy to manipulate some guys.’

I stared at her in disbelief. ‘Tania, why are you telling me this? I had to work damn hard to get where I am and to earn respect in this team and you come along and tell me I could have got there quicker by wearing a short skirt?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant …’

‘Tania, please, just leave me alone.’

I left her at the bar and took refuge in the ladies’ loo. Just like the women in the club, she flaunted herself effortlessly and that just wasn’t my style. Tania Peck was a man’s woman. I suppose my style could be summed up as look but don’t touch.

She revealed; I concealed. It was as simple as that.

I couldn’t delay my reappearance any longer, so took a deep breath and rejoined the party. My timing was poor. Luke was busy enjoying his lap dance, which he’d chosen to have in public rather than in the private booth.

It seemed to me he was getting into it a little too much as I could see him groping the dancer and it didn’t take a genius to work out this was a breach of club rules.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple of giant figures approaching, but before they could reach him, Tania strode over, shooed away the dancer without a word and straddled Luke, fully clothed.

Her pneumatic frame came into its own, arching, twisting and circling over him as she ran her hands through his blond hair but moved out of reach every time he tried to grab her.

The security staff soon backed off as the mood lightened and the other guys started laughing and wolf-whistling.

But when she turned round to grind her bottom inches from his face, Luke ran his hands up under her skirt and grabbed both cheeks before slapping them.

‘Bad baby,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you in future when I want you to dance for me. I don’t want these guys getting an eyeful of what’s mine.’

Tania ignored him and carried on gyrating until the end of the next track, to Luke’s obvious discomfort. Then she dismounted and snatched the £50 note Luke had in his hand to place in the pro-dancer’s garter.

‘Thanks, Lukey baby,’ she announced, ‘that will pay for my cab home – alone!’

Luke’s face was a picture and the Brothers were rolling in the aisles, which riled him no end. It was so good to see him being played by a girl.

‘Bravo, Tania,’ I clapped.

Luke saw me laughing and turned on me like a wounded beast. ‘That turn you on, Geri Boy? Maybe you’re more of a man than we thought!’

He clicked his fingers to summon one of the dancers – a pale honey-blonde wearing a tight red bikini top and short denim skirt.

‘OK, I’ll pay you £50 to do a private dance for my colleague here,’ he said to her, pointing to me, ‘and £50 more if you snog her afterwards, full tongues.’

‘We don’t kiss the customers, sir,’ she replied. ‘And we can’t dance for a customer who doesn’t give consent.’

‘Jesus, you girls are no fun,’ he said, his face dropping. ‘How about you, Tania, why don’t you dance for your boss? That would be a great way of getting to know each other, don’t you think?’

‘Leave Tania out of this,’ I said, pulling Luke over to one side. ‘I don’t know if you’re on some kind of bet to see how far you can wind me up, Luke, but you won’t break me.’

‘What makes you think I’m trying to break you? I’m just trying to have a little fun here. Women like you are all the same. You’re so bloody obsessed with success that it turns you into hard-faced old boots.’

‘I’ve had just about enough of your shit for one day,’ I said. ‘You’ve been on my case since the moment I met you and I will not tolerate you talking to me like this, especially in front of our boss.’

‘Oh Christ, Carson,’ he said. ‘You don’t get it, do you? If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. And by the way, I wouldn’t fancy you if you were the last chick on the planet, you’re so bloody uptight …’

‘Fuck off, Cotterill, you know nothing about me, who I am or what I’m capable of. Just get out of my face.’

Daryll saw what was happening, from where he was standing with some of the Brothers, but did nothing. I could only conclude that Luke’s juvenile behaviour had been condoned by the boys’ club, as if they were putting me through some perverse kind of jousting competition to see who would be knocked off their horse first. It was all in a day’s sport for them.

I had to do something that would completely floor Luke. What would wipe the smug smile off his face, short of punching him?

Suddenly I knew instinctively what to do. I strode over to Ryan, beckoning him with my index finger. He looked around, hesitating and waiting for their approval. However, he knew what side his bread – and his bed – was buttered on, so he followed me over to the dance area.

I slowly unbuckled my jacket, peeling it off and easing my black polo neck jumper over my head, revealing a skimpy black camisole over a black lace balconette bra.

Blinking under the harsh spotlight, I felt utterly exposed but I had to brazen it out. Luke had successfully upped the stakes and was standing with his arms crossed, waiting to see what I would do next. Would I stand or would I fall? There was no turning back now …

Chapter Three

It was time for me to put up or shut up so, in full view of my team, I bent over and unzipped my black spike-heeled boots, taking them off in as teasing a fashion as I could manage, dangling them in one hand before I let them drop to the floor.

Luke and Daryll seemed mesmerised by my breasts, as if they had convinced themselves I didn’t actually have any. To be fair to them, I’d always tried my hardest to cover them up in the office.

Ryan, of course, had been allowed to enjoy them intimately on more than one occasion so he was looking very pleased with himself, as if he’d suddenly been promoted to leader of the pack.

I took a deep breath, kept my eyes on him as I carefully stepped backwards on to a podium and wrapped myself around the cold steel of the pole. First I slid my spine up and down, splaying my knees into a squatting position, before pulling myself up with my hands above my head, sashaying my hips side to side at the same time.

Remembering the dance I’d seen earlier, I hooked one leg around the pole and twisted around until I reached the floor. Just at that moment, ‘Raspberry Beret’, one of my favourite Prince tracks, started playing.

‘Right,’ I thought. ‘I’ll show you uptight.’

By this point I could see the bulge in Ryan’s trousers, and the boys in the team whooping and cheering me on behind him.

I licked my lips as I swivelled around the pole, feeling damn grateful that I’d spent so much time on Zeus, not to mention the countless hours in the gym.

I was confident enough in my fitness and the strength of my biceps and thighs to try some of the more ambitious moves I’d seen that night, so I thought, here goes nothing, grabbed the pole at eye level and swung myself upside down, making a V-shape with my legs.

It required a lot of concentration to maintain a degree of gracefulness and sensuality; I had to make it look easy, even if it wasn’t – but then I was used to doing that every day at the office.

When I looked up, Ryan was salivating and even Luke was looking vaguely impressed.

Adrenalin was pumping through my body, partly with the effort, partly with the sheer thrill of dancing in such an erotic way. I loved the feeling of power it gave me, especially seeing the effect I was having on Ryan and his idiotic pals.

Their eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and sheer lust, which actually sent a bolt of electricity through me that seemed to heat me up and make my skin burn.

I carried on swivelling, spinning and arching my back to the music for a good five minutes and finished on an ambitious move. Bending forwards with my head near the bottom of the pole and my hands halfway up it, I levered my legs off the floor and up to the vertical, wrapping my legs around the pole and gripping with my ankles to pull myself up, grabbing the pole again with my hands and gently circling around with my legs pointed in opposite directions until I was back on the ground again.

I was operating in absolute fight-or-flight mode and would probably feel the pain later.

When I was back on my feet, I realised everyone in the bar had been watching me and not even the security guards who had been so keen to eject Luke earlier had tried to stop me.

Ryan was transfixed and the Brothers, along with the rest of the male clientele, gave me a standing ovation.

‘Geri, you go girl, that’s more like it!’ one of the guys yelled, while Luke was pushed towards the back. I was drenched in sweat but every nerve ending in my body was tingling.

‘Thanks, guys,’ I said. ‘I’m not making a speech, but suffice to say I had a ball.’

‘Well, I think it’s more that you’ve got balls, Geri,’ said Tania. ‘Bravo to you too.’

I wondered why they’d let a female customer get away with stripping off and using the club’s equipment when I clocked a man in the top booth signalling to security to hang back. It was the same dark-haired guy that I saw Tania talking to at the bar earlier. I couldn’t figure out how or why she knew him but I was so flushed with excitement I didn’t care.

Gathering up my clothes, I waved to the boys and motioned to Ryan to accompany me.

I couldn’t resist shooting Luke a triumphant look.

I put my top and boots back on and we hailed a taxi back to Ryan’s apartment on the Isle of Dogs.

‘Jesus, Geri, I mean … Jesus, that was fucking amazing … where the hell did you learn how to do that?’ gasped Ryan, trying to conceal his erection.

‘I guess I’m just a natural, sweetie,’ I teased. ‘You have to be damned athletic to pole dance and I’m practically an acrobat.’

‘The guys from the office couldn’t believe what they were seeing, especially Luke,’ he said. ‘That was just such a genius stroke to pull, but aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen when you go back to work tomorrow?’

‘To be honest, Ryan, I couldn’t give a flying fuck now,’ I said. ‘If women like Tania can flash their tits and still get a job, then why should I care about being one of the boys?’

‘Good for you, Geri,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear. ‘I can’t wait to find out what your new game is, babe!’

‘Ryan, I’m not your babe or anyone else’s,’ I replied. ‘Just shut up and come here.’

And with that I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him deep and hard, plunging my tongue into his mouth.

Our hands were all over each other as the taxi headed back to Ryan’s place. I didn’t give a shit about the driver getting an eyeful. After the club, I felt stripped of inhibitions. When the cab pulled up, I swung open the door and stood on the pavement with feet apart and arms crossed, waiting for him to pay.

I kept him at arm’s length all the way up to his third-floor flat and waited until we were both safely inside before I told him what I wanted to do to him.

He tore off his jacket and was about to unbuckle his belt when I interrupted him.

‘No, Ryan, I want you fully clothed,’ I said in my best dominatrix voice, pushing him into the front room, which overlooked the river and Canary Wharf all lit up. ‘Get that dining chair and put it in the middle of the floor.’

‘Yes, mistress!’ he laughed, but I could see he was slightly nervous.

‘Right, sit down and stay down,’ I said.

I went over to his iPod decking station and put on one of my favourite tracks from Massive Attack’s Mezzanine album.

I took off the silk scarf I was wearing and used it to tie his hands behind his back, running my hands through his thick black hair before striding off to strip down to my thong and black lace bra, but this time putting back on the stiletto-heeled black leather ankle boots I’d had to discard while pole dancing.

Ryan looked terrified now, as if I was about to eat him alive.

‘OK, are you ready, big boy?’ I teased, before swinging my hips and easing them forward until I was straddling his lap. ‘You can look but not touch, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you.’

I started grinding down as I straddled him, pushing my tired thigh muscles to their limit.

Grabbing the chair behind his head, I jiggled my breasts inches from his face and put my lips as close to his as I could without them touching.

He writhed beneath me, desperate to grab my flesh, his cock trying to burst out above his waistband.

I pulled away from him before turning round and bending over with one hand on each of my cheeks, swaying to and fro to the music and inching towards Ryan, who was quietly whimpering by now.

Backing closer to him, I dipped down as if to sit on his lap before reaching behind me and brushing my hand against his crotch.

Ryan was doing everything he could to contain himself while I was getting off on frustrating him. But after another five-minute bump and grind, I stopped. Part of me wished he would just say, ‘I have to have you now,’ pick me up, carry me into the bedroom and ravish me.

But no, he was happy to submit to me and I kind of resented the fact that he was so compliant.

Without warning, I pulled him up from the chair without untying his hands, dragged him into the bedroom and pushed him on to the duvet.

‘OK, Ryan, your time has come,’ I announced. ‘I want cock and I want it now.’

‘God, Geri, you’re unbelievable … I’ve never been so turned on.’

‘Shut up before I gag you,’ I said, undoing his belt buckle and his fly in rapid succession. ‘You do what I tell you and nothing else.’

Even as I spoke the words, I was daring him to argue back, to contradict me. In short, to have some backbone.

‘Sure, whatever you say, babe – you’re the boss.’

How I wished he’d be more of a man, put up a fight and make it more interesting for me but no, he was happy to let me do all the work.

‘You know it’s my fantasy to be dominated by a woman,’ he said.

‘Right, lie there, don’t move, and let me do what I want.’

I pulled off his suit trousers with one tug, followed by his socks. His thick, seven-inch cock was already standing to attention through the front of his boxers, so I was immediately on my knees, teasing it with my tongue.

I licked each side like a lollipop, then flicked around the helmet, gently taking the tip into my mouth and sucking a little before working up and down the shaft with deep kisses. He tasted salty, like clean sea water.

I pulled off his boxers and took his length right down into the back of my throat, easing it in and out, fighting the urge to gag. It was my party trick and I knew he loved it.

‘Mmmmmm, Geri, you give such fucking great head … careful, I might cum in your mouth …’

I withdrew. ‘You most certainly will not.’

He looked like a naughty schoolboy, lying there in his shirt and loosened tie, naked from the waist down.

I peeled off my underwear and unlocked the clasp on my handbag, extracting a condom. Tearing open the wrapper with my teeth, I gently teased it on to Ryan’s cock, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

Sometimes I miss the texture of real cock inside me. But a girl’s got to play safe.

Straddling him, I lowered myself on to his shaft, achingly slowly, until my bum was resting on his rock-hard thighs.

Maybe there is something to be said for rugby after all.

Rocking backwards and forwards and side to side, gripping his cock with my pelvic muscles, I waited until I found a rhythm that produced the most intense pleasure.

God, I loved being fucked – and I loved being in the driving seat while I was doing it. As I pumped him in and out of my pussy, my whole belly warmed and tingled as I allowed myself to start down the road to orgasm.

Our breathing came hard and heavy, every muscle taut. Sensing how he was getting too close – I wasn’t ready yet, not nearly ready – I loosened my pelvic grip. Just a little, just enough. Give the boy a breather, hey? He moaned and thrashed around beneath me. And just as I started up again, ready to really get the momentum going this time, I heard a sharp intake of breath and the sudden spasm of his cock inside me. Fuck!

After a series of weakening thrusts, he rested his head against my breasts.

‘Geri, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I tried to hold back … you know I can satisfy you. It won’t take me long to recover, let’s do it again …’

As we both lay there, panting, I just wished to God I could find a man who could control himself. And me. Handsome boys like Ryan were too easy for me to trample underfoot. He reached out to hug me, but I pushed him away.

‘Not now, Ryan,’ I said. ‘I just want to sleep now.’

I was worn out, tired by the day, by the role play, by my life …

‘Are you OK, Geri? What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing you can put right, Ryan,’ I told him. ‘You don’t have to – you’re not my boyfriend.’

‘Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care,’ he said.

‘Thanks, I appreciate that. But really, you can’t help. Now, please, let me get some shut-eye …’

He kissed my forehead and rolled over. ‘OK, sweetie. You are one hot woman, do you know that? Goodnight then.’

Ryan was a nice guy, and sweet enough when he was away from work and the influence of his buddies, but simply not man enough for me.

It had been an incredible night, the implications of which had not yet sunk in. I soon sunk into a fractured sleep, with images of the evening drifting in and out of strange dreams.

When Ryan’s alarm went off early the next morning I hardly felt rested at all. I shunned his sleepy advances and quickly washed and dressed before he was even out of bed.

‘See you at work,’ I laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

With that I shut the door behind me and made my way down the stairs.

I was just lifting my arm to hail a cab on the main road, when I thought to check in my beloved Prada handbag to make sure my purse was there. It wasn’t. I knew I hadn’t taken it out at Ryan’s so I must have dropped it at the club. There was no way, after that exit, that I was going to go back and knock on Ryan’s door, so I decided to bite the bullet and take the walk of shame home to Greenwich. Thank God my keys were in my pocket.

It gave me a chance to reflect. On the one hand I was proud of myself that I’d pulled off such a performance last night – but on the other I was concerned at the fallout I might experience at the office. Had I overstepped the mark? Would Luke make my life even more difficult now, or had my bravura performance shut him up for the time being?

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I headed straight to work. Before cancelling all my cards I called the Pearl, hoping against hope that my purse might have been handed in.

‘Hi, my name’s Geraldine Carson,’ I told the woman who answered. ‘I’ve reason to believe a black leather Prada wallet might have been handed in at the Pearl last night.’

‘Oh yes, Miss Carson,’ she said. ‘Your business card was inside so we were going to call you later this morning anyway. And if you don’t mind me saying, I enjoyed your show last night.’

‘You saw me dance?’ I asked, blushing. ‘Well, thanks, I appreciate the compliment. I’ll be in later to collect the purse.’

How funny that a girl who worked at a lap-dancing club – who was possibly a dancer herself – thought I’d done a good job!

I allowed myself a few moments of metaphorical back-slapping before getting my brain in gear for the day ahead. This wasn’t any old day – this was Bonus Day.

Shit, I thought. I hope to God I get what I’ve budgeted for. If not, they’ll be repossessing my home and I’ll be shacking up at the stables.

That’s the problem with working for an investment bank. Last night I was flashing £50 notes around like they were pound coins. And three months ago, I was overextending myself on a mortgage on a riverside apartment that was dependent on one hell of a bonus. Not to mention the fact that Zeus was a total drain on my finances, even if I couldn’t bear to give him up. But, what the hell, I’d worked hard for it. And what’s life without some risk? Until last night, it had been so long since I’d taken one, I’d forgotten what it felt like.

And with that, the focused, determined, ball-breaking version of Geraldine Carson with whom I was so familiar donned her armour and went into battle.

Chapter Four

I didn’t like the look of pity on Tania’s face when I walked into the office.

‘Geri, Daryll asked to see you about ten minutes ago,’ she said. ‘I covered for you but I think you should go straight away.’

‘Really, Tania? If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,’ I said, smiling sweetly.

I could feel myself losing my cool but had to hold it together for the meeting with Daryll. God knows what he was going to say about the incident at the Pearl.

He saw me approaching and smiled in that annoyingly paternal way of his. ‘Geraldine, my dear. Do come in and sit down. Would you like a tea or coffee?’

‘No thanks, Daryll. You’d better just say what you think of me,’ I said, preparing myself for the worst.

‘What I think of you?’ he repeated. ‘Let me tell you something, Geraldine. When I was a naïve young man on the dealing floor, there was such a thing as an initiation ceremony. My colleagues took me out to a strip club, where a lady of the night stripped me down to my underwear as she removed her own clothing. I was utterly humiliated and obviously the butt of my colleagues’ jokes for some time.

‘What you did at the club last night, my dear, was to turn the initiation on its head. Almost literally, when you did that extraordinary move on the pole. Geraldine, after all your time here, you finally initiated yourself into the Brothers. Well done,’ he laughed.

For a moment I was speechless. I thought he had been about to tear strips off me.

‘God, Daryll, I thought you were going to put me in detention, not give me a gold star,’ I said. ‘Trust me, it’s not a ceremony I will be repeating.’

‘Well, despite the entertainment, I’m pleased to hear it,’ he continued. ‘Now let’s get back to business.’

‘That sounds good to me,’ I said.

‘It’s been a good year for the team, Geraldine, and you have been at the heart of it.’ He handed me a sealed envelope. ‘This is to say thank you for all your hard work.’

I opened it quickly, in silence. The letter inside confirmed that my bonus for the past year would be £20,000. Oh shit. I’d expected much more, counted on it in fact, but was determined not to show any sign of disappointment.

‘Thanks, Daryll, that’s great,’ I lied, beaming so wide my cheeks hurt.

‘My pleasure, Geraldine,’ he said, moving towards the door. ‘You’re a great credit to Sloane Brothers. I’ll see you later.’

As I made my way down the ‘catwalk of doom’ that took me through the open-plan part of the office past most of my colleagues, I felt several pairs of eyes boring into me for any clue as to what had just happened.

I kept gazing straight ahead and avoided any eye contact, passing Tania without a word and closing my office door.

Sitting down at my desk, I realised I had been clenching my right fist so hard that my nails had made heavy indentations on the palm of my hand.

I felt like punching a hole in the wall.

I’d taken a calculated risk in buying my house in Greenwich, borrowing over the odds and budgeting for a bigger salary top-up to comfortably afford my monthly repayments. Now I was in the shit, lumbered with a huge mortgage and a stallion I wasn’t prepared to sacrifice.

My train of thought was interrupted by Tania knocking on my door.

‘Geri, can I come in?’ she asked.

‘Um, just a minute,’ I replied, quickly checking my make-up in a compact mirror. ‘OK, what is it?’

‘There’s something you should know,’ she said. ‘There’s an email going around that lists everyone’s bonuses. The guys on the floor all know who’s getting what. Did you receive it?’

I quickly scanned my inbox but couldn’t see anything.

‘Christ, Tania, how come you know more than me about what’s going on?’

‘I’m just telling you, Geri. I thought we were a team?’

‘Yes, right … but bonuses are none of your business,’ I told her. ‘If you’ve got one of these emails can you please forward it to me now?’

‘OK, Geri, no problem. I’ll do that immediately. And … I’m sorry …’

I motioned for her to leave and close the door. A few seconds later, the email dropped into my inbox.

My heart was pounding as I opened it up and scanned the list of names. There was only one I cared about: Luke Cotterill. Next to it was the amount: £30,000.

His name came alphabetically just after mine, of course, so the difference was made even more painfully obvious. I’d been with the company for two years; he’d been there two months, yet he’d bagged £10,000 more.

My head felt as if it was about to explode. Luke bloody Cotterill had landed a bigger bonus than me, simply for having a dick, as far as I could make out. And my God, was he a prize dick. OK, the guy had the balls to play the market and had a good brain, but he had the interpersonal skills of a chimpanzee. Surely it would have been better to have me on-side?

This wasn’t the worst of it, though. By the time I’d gone down the entire list it seemed as if every jerk in the office had received more than me.

A lone tear started to make its way down my face, blackened by Mac mascara. This time I’d been well and truly shafted by the boys’ club, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I dabbed my face with a tissue and made myself presentable again, but who was I kidding? It didn’t matter how hard I worked, how much money I brought in, I was never going to outgun the big swinging dicks. Short of having a penis transplant, it just wasn’t going to happen.

I needed to get out of there. But I still had the morning to get through before I could attend to practical matters like going back to the Pearl to collect my wallet. At least I had an excuse for not joining them for lunch. For the rest of the morning, I barricaded myself in the office, even forbidding Tania to disturb me. Then on the stroke of noon, I opened the door to my office and strolled out, a huge fake smile plastered on my face.

‘Tania, hold the fort, I’ll be out for a couple of hours,’ I announced.

‘Oh, right, where are you off to, Geri?’ she asked.

‘I’ll be on the mobile,’ I said, knowing I was being rude, but not giving a shit.

If Luke Cotterill had so much as looked at me the wrong way as I left the building I might have done something I’d have regretted.

As I walked towards Canary Wharf Tube, I thought how I never wanted to go back to the office again.

Fuck ’em all, I thought. I might as well go and be a lap dancer and get screwed that way.

I jumped on the Jubilee Line to Green Park and walked the rest of the way to the club. At least I wouldn’t have to be part of the lunchtime back-slapping that the Brothers would currently be indulging in at Ubon.

It was strange seeing the Pearl in the cold light of day, its neon sign switched off. Any semblance of glamour disappeared without the veiling mystery of the night. But as I descended those red-carpeted stairs into the womb of the club, it came back to me how liberated I had felt the night before.

‘Hi,’ I said, recognising the girl behind the desk as the one who had given Luke his lap dance. ‘I’m Geraldine Carson. I’m here to collect my purse?’

‘Oh yeah, I’ll just ring Declan,’ she said in a raw East End accent.

‘Who’s Declan?’ I asked.

‘Declan Meleady,’ she said. ‘He’s the manager.’

‘Right,’ I replied, wondering if he was the dark-haired guy I’d spotted the night before, talking to Tania.

She disappeared for a moment, then returned with an odd smile on her face. ‘If you just go in the club and wait at the bar, Declan will be with you in a minute,’ she said.

As I perched myself on one of the high stools I surveyed the scene of my crime. Part of me wondered ‘What the hell was I doing?’ but there was also a tingle down my spine.

‘Miss Carson?’ said a voice behind me.

‘Call me Geri,’ I replied, turning round and blinking in the lights.

‘Hi, I’m Declan Meleady,’ he said in a sexy Irish voice, as I finally got a good look at the man who had given me unspoken permission to take over his club the night before.

He was even better close up: well-cut dark brown hair, with warm brown eyes and the sturdy build of a stable hand. He was wearing a very expensive suit, almost certainly Savile Row’s finest, with a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt underneath.

‘Here’s your purse, Geri,’ he said. ‘I was going to contact you anyway.’

‘Ah yes, it was you in the top booth last night, wasn’t it?’ I said, drinking him in. ‘I’m intrigued why you didn’t set your Rottweilers on me – I was breaking the rules, after all.’

His eyes twinkled as he smiled softly at me. ‘It’s my job to make sure the customers are happy,’ he said. ‘And that means knowing when to send in the clowns and when to back off. I had a few regulars in last night and I could see they were enjoying your impromptu performance, so I allowed it to continue.’

‘And did you enjoy my performance?’ I asked, realising I was flirting with him.

‘Indeed I did,’ he replied. ‘I was most impressed.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ I said. ‘That was my first time.’

‘But will it be your last?’ he asked.

‘I’m sure it will. I already have a very well-paid job,’ I replied, opening my purse to check its contents.

It was only then that I realised the £500 worth of cash I’d taken out to pay for drinks at the club was missing.

‘Oh shit,’ I said, feeling a little panicked, ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised the money’s been lifted but, Jesus, I could have done with every penny of that.’

‘What happened to the very well-paid job, then?’ he asked.

‘Still have it, but it’s perhaps not quite as well-paid as I’d like,’ I explained. ‘I have a high-maintenance mortgage and horse to support, you see.’

‘Really?’ He sat up more in his seat, and leaned forward a little. He smelled good; all musky and manly. ‘I part-own a racehorse in Ireland myself.’

‘Well then,’ I said, warming to Declan even more, ‘we must compare form some time.’

‘I don’t know how to ride,’ confessed Declan. ‘Well, not horses, anyway … I’m only in it for the investment.’ What a tease, I thought.

I liked this man – he was alpha without being aggressive; smooth without being oily.

‘So pay in the City is not all it’s cracked up to be then?’ he smiled in empathy.

‘Well, it is for the boys,’ I explained. ‘But it seems the girls aren’t always invited to the party.’

‘I’d invite you to my party any time,’ said Declan. ‘If you were ever thinking of changing career, you could walk into a job here. Or shimmy, should I say.’

‘Are you serious?’ I asked.

‘Let’s say I was only half joking,’ he said.

‘OK, I’m curious now,’ I smiled, enjoying the banter. ‘How much could I earn, in theory?’

‘Well, on average, between £400 and £500 a night,’ he said. ‘The big West End clubs pay more but then there’s a list of rules and regulations as long as your arm. Here, it’s more relaxed and there aren’t so many girls on each shift, so you’ll get more tips.’

My mental calculator was doing back flips – I worked out that if I were to do a shift every night from Wednesday to Saturday, 8pm to midnight, for six weeks, I could potentially clear £10k, which would keep Zeus in hay for the foreseeable future, and me with a roof over my head.

‘God, that’s tempting,’ I said, recognising a good deal when I heard one. What was stopping me? Well, one very good reason. ‘It’s just a shame that I have an image to protect. After all, my real job would be down the pan if the guys saw me working down here.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Declan. ‘Mayfair’s not our only branch. We have clubs all over.’

His voice was working its charms on me. The answers came slick and easy. Ten grand couldn’t be sniffed at.

‘So, hypothetically, if I were to take up the offer, could you guarantee that income?’

‘Well, there are no cast-iron guarantees,’ said Declan. ‘But with your natural talents, I can’t see there being a shortage of admirers.’

I paused for a moment to reflect as Declan moved behind the bar.

‘Here, I’m sure you could do with this,’ he said, pouring Sauvignon Blanc into a chilled glass.

‘Thanks, you read my mind,’ I said, taking a large sip. ‘Look, you seem to be a straightforward kind of guy, Declan, unlike most of the shits I work with. Between you and me, I was expecting a bigger bonus at work and it didn’t come through so I need the money. Fast. Plus I got such a kick out of dancing last night.’

‘Not half as much of a kick as I did watching you,’ he replied, and we both laughed.

This man had more charm in his little finger than all the guys in the office put together and I felt so relaxed in his company. But I had to be careful – after all, somehow he knew Tania, and I had yet to get to the bottom of that little conundrum.

‘I’m glad you thought I had potential,’ I said, pulling back a little. ‘Perhaps you can help me develop it.’

‘I’d be delighted to,’ he replied.

‘Listen, Declan, I really appreciate your confidence in my ability, but obviously I need to consider this really carefully,’ I told him. ‘I’d be risking my career if anyone found out that I was even speaking to you about this.’

‘Sure, Geri, I understand,’ he said. ‘You take your time.’

‘Thanks, Declan,’ I said, offering my hand. His was big, warm and pleasantly rough.

He escorted me to the door, which was the most gentlemanly act I had been on the receiving end of for some time.

I floated back to the office, buoyed by Declan’s flattery. He really was serious about the job offer, I knew that. But could I really hack it as a lap dancer?

There were a few puzzled faces at Sloane Brothers. Obviously they’d been expecting me to look crestfallen but I felt like I was coming back from a spa. Suddenly the world was full of options.

I closeted myself in my office and told Tania I wasn’t to be disturbed. I needed to think clearly.

You must be out of your mind, Geraldine Carson. Why the hell would a woman like me, who has fought so hard to succeed in a man’s world, go off and do the very thing that might unpick all her efforts?

I started to think about the consequences of being found out – what would happen at work, what would my poor parents think? This was a high-risk strategy, but isn’t that what had got me up the career ladder in the first place?

I had to be honest with myself – the danger factor was the most attractive part of it. I’d always enjoyed chasing a deal, but ever since I discovered my natural talent for riding, I’d also become hooked on the visceral rush.

I’d experienced the same kind of gut-level thrill after dancing at the Pearl, only this time the success of my performance was down to me and me alone. I was the thoroughbred, riding the pole, and it felt good. No, more than good – it felt great.

I had no worries about my physical abilities or showing off my body. Where the serious doubt kicked in was whether I could handle it mentally and emotionally. I imagined a scenario where I’d had a tough day at work and a customer got too familiar with me at the club. It could go one of two ways. Either I’d lose it and unleash a barrage of verbal abuse that might get me sacked, or burst into tears and run off stage.

I thought of Declan and his comforting presence, but he wouldn’t always be there to make sure I was OK.

However, it would be a particularly delicious sort of revenge on Luke and the Brothers to earn money out of using my sexuality when they thought I had zero sex appeal.

I knew I would face moments of self-doubt but getting in touch with my inner sex goddess and parading her in public was too much of an adrenalin high to resist. I just had to be ultra-careful that my two worlds never collided …

My mind was already made up. I picked up the telephone.

‘Declan? It’s Geri Carson here. Can you speak?’

‘I’m all yours.’

‘OK, good. What the hell. Screw the Brothers, screw them all. If the offer’s still there, I’m going to take it …’

Chapter Five

The morning sun streaming into my bedroom window helped me to jump out of bed on that crucial Saturday. In just a few hours, I would be taking my first steps towards becoming a professional lap dancer.

Declan had gotten down to business straight away. He told me there were no guarantees – I’d have to go through the training programme and audition like everyone else. I’d have to impress Jackie, who had been working at the Pearl for years, and if she thought I couldn’t hack it, I’d be out.

That didn’t frighten me – I was in good shape and wasn’t afraid of hard physical work. Declan didn’t seem to have any doubt I’d get through because he had already booked me in for a costume fitting at the suburban Pearl in north London, where I would be dancing.

I got up and switched on the TV to take my mind off the audition. I surfed the channels and found MTV and laughed out loud when the first video I saw was ‘Lap Dancer’ by NERD.

Maybe it was a sign that I’d found my calling.

I did a bit of a shimmy while I watched the lithe, tanned, surgically-enhanced LA chicks on the video and tried to pick up a few tips before jumping in the shower and then slathering myself in cocoa butter to make my skin feel soft and gleaming.

I’d been told to turn up in shorts, a vest top and trackie bottoms – with a pair of high heels – hardly a glamorous combination, but I knew it would be quite a workout.

I rolled out my yoga mat and did a few sun salutations and recited my mantra: ‘Geraldine, you have all the resources you need to succeed.’

I grabbed my gym bag, took a deep breath and shut the door behind me. Arriving in my BMW Z4 Roadster would only have aroused suspicion so I got the bus to the address Jackie had given me.

It turned out to be a nondescript-looking place in a grubby part of town. I rang the bell and someone buzzed me in. At the top of a short flight of claustrophobic stairs five other girls were sitting on plastic chairs outside a dance studio.

They all looked as apprehensive as I felt, so I clearly wasn’t the only beginner. A couple smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything. I wondered what had brought them to this point, whether they’d had an agonising choice to make.

I turned to the girl next to me. ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Geri.’

‘Hello. My name is Irena,’ she said in halting English. ‘I am from Poland.’

‘Oh right, have you done this sort of thing before?’

‘Yes, I have danced, yes, but not in club like this. This scary, no?’

‘To be honest, I don’t know yet. I’m waiting to find out …’

Ten minutes went by. And then fifteen. I didn’t know what to do with myself. After all, fiddling with my BlackBerry or reading The Economist was out of the question.

I decided to repair some chips in my nail polish while I waited. The others watched me in silence. It didn’t seem the done thing to strike up a conversation, so I kept quiet.

Before long, the familiar riff of Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ came wafting into the corridor and the studio door opened.

A ball-breaking brunette in her mid-thirties, with the ramrod posture of a classical dancer and a hard, good-looking face, strutted in. She was dressed in skinny jeans, knee-high boots and a hip-hugging, roll-neck grey sweater, which she whipped off to reveal a leotard beneath.

Ignoring us, she stood at the side of the room, stretching.

She had a natural presence and there was no doubting that she was top cat.

So this was Jackie.

Finally she turned to face us, hands on each slender hip. No matter how much horse-riding I did I could never dream of having a figure as svelte, yet still curvy, as hers.

‘Ladies, welcome to the Pearl boot camp. I’m Jackie and I’m here to put you through your paces. Please strip down to your shorts and vests – no shoes at the moment, please – and take off any jewellery.’

I took the lead and wandered into the studio – a small space with polished wood floors and four metal poles placed at regular intervals.

‘OK, when you’re ready, please come and join me, standing in a circle,’ said Jackie.

There were six of us, plus Jackie.

‘Right, then,’ she continued. ‘Before we begin, I want to tell you a story. In the bad old days, you would all have been called strippers and you would have been paid by the owner of a strip joint to wiggle your ass and take your clothes off for a few dirty old men nursing cheap beer.

‘You will be pleased to hear that we have progressed since those dark days. Now we have much more upmarket clubs that are professionally run, you will be called a pole dancer or a lap dancer and you will pay the club rent for the privilege of wiggling your ass. But the customers will be businessmen, guys on stag nights and, if you’re lucky, celebrities, who will hopefully give you generous tips.

‘If any of you survive this first session, I’ll go into more detail about the various club rules. You’d better leave now if you have a problem about taking off all your clothes in public. If you’re squeamish about men seeing your clit, then this is not the job for you.’

The sound of nervous laughter echoed around the room, and I felt my heart beat a bit faster as I realised what I was getting into, but I – like everyone else – stayed put.

‘Good, that’s the spirit, ladies,’ said Jackie, smiling for the first time. ‘Now, before we start moving, I’d like you all to introduce yourself to the group – your name, where you’re from, and why you want to work at the Pearl.’

‘You with the long dark hair, please start,’ she said, pointing at the olive-skinned girl opposite me.

‘Um, hello everybody, my name is Gabi and I’m from Brazil,’ she said in a lilting accent. ‘Back home I loved to dance the samba so I have good rhythm. I want to work at Pearl to earn money to pay for my study. I learn English and study law.’

‘OK, thanks, Gabi – I’ll be tapping you up for free legal advice,’ laughed Jackie. ‘Next, please.’

‘Good afternoon. My name is Irena and I am from Poland.’

‘Speak up,’ said Jackie. ‘There’s no room for shyness in this business. Be loud and proud.’

‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Irena, notching the volume up. ‘Sorry, Poland. I want work at Pearl to pay my bills and also send money home to my parents. I also love to dance.’

‘Thank you, Irena, no need to apologise,’ said Jackie. ‘But you need to toughen up. OK, next please.’

A long-limbed black girl with a great-looking Afro stepped up to the plate. ‘Hi everybody, my name is Makani. My family is originally from Ghana but I was born in London. I want to dance at the Pearl in the evenings so that I can spend my days painting.’

‘Thanks, Makani, good luck. Let’s move on … OK, you with the spiky black hair,’ said Jackie, pointing at me. ‘What’s your story?’

I had to think on my feet; there was no way I could tell the truth.

‘Hi guys, I’m Geri,’ I said. ‘I’m from Surrey. I work as a temp secretary in the City but the pay’s not great. I want to work at the Pearl so I can buy some Jimmy Choos!’

That broke the ice a little and everyone laughed, except Jackie.

‘Well, Geri, I hope you’re not the kind of girl who’s a slave to her credit card. What makes you want to be a lap dancer?’

‘I’m reasonably fit and I’ve been told I’m a sexy mover,’ I answered. ‘So I thought I’d try my hand at lap dancing because it beats working behind a bar.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Jackie, but I could see my joke hadn’t gone down well with her.

The other girls said their piece and Jackie moved to the CD player and put on some relaxing music.

‘OK ladies, listen up. Welcome to Jackie’s Boot Camp. You don’t do the talking here, you do the listening. If you screw around I won’t ask you to drop and give me twenty, I’ll just get some friends of mine to very politely escort you from the building. When I’m here, you take your orders from me. If I say “any questions” then you can ask questions, otherwise shut up and listen. If you need to pee do it in your own time.

‘Now before we begin, everyone is always curious to know how we get into a business like this. Well, you’ve told me a little of your stories so I’ll tell you a little of mine.’

Chapter Six

JACKIE’S STORY

I’ve always wanted to dance. When I was a girl I dreamed of being a ballerina. And yeah, yeah I’m sure you all dreamed that. But I was good. I auditioned at 15 and won a scholarship to the Royal Ballet. Surprised? Well don’t be. There’s more. My mother didn’t want me to be a ballet dancer, she didn’t think there was money in it. She wanted me to be a hairdresser. So I ran away from home when I was 16.

I studied at Barons Court for a year or so. The course was tough, but I could handle it. The reasons I left … well. Let’s just say it involved a well-hung ballet teacher called Guy, a bottle of gin and the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. Guy and I woke up naked on a mat on the floor of studio two surrounded by twelve teenage ballerinas and a furious Madame. The teacher was fired and I was asked to not come back after the summer break.

I was gutted of course. But I had more immediate concerns than losing the love of my life. I had nowhere to live for a start. I couldn’t go home. Mum wouldn’t return my calls. I had no idea where my brothers were. My father was long gone and all my grandparents were either dead or senile. I was 17 and faced with a life of poverty and despair. Then I remembered my Aunty Linda. The only woman in our family who wouldn’t judge me. She was a black sheep herself, you see. Aunty Linda ran a lapdancing club in Whitechapel.

Suffice to say my Aunty Linda made a better mum than my real one ever did. I came out the other end still alive but it could have been a lot worse. Plenty of homeless girls end up on the streets as hookers, thieves or both. I was still determined to make it as a dancer. I knew I had the talent, and I was young. I just needed a place to put down some roots while I sorted out my life.

When I was reasonably straight in the head Linda put me to work behind the bar, mixing drinks, keeping an eye on things. I took tips from the punters but wasn’t allowed to dance. Aunty Linda wouldn’t let me. I was desperate to do it though. I wanted to keep in practice for a start. Dancing takes a lot of strength and the best way to keep your muscles trim is to dance. It’s not a coincidence that pole dancing has been taken over by the fitness clubs these days, though back then respectable women wouldn’t be seen dead near a pole.

I’ve never been respectable and don’t want to start. I didn’t mind taking my clothes off. In Auntie Linda’s the girls stripped down to nothing on stage and in the private rooms – Lord knows what else they got up to in there, but officially they weren’t supposed to fuck the punters. I was proud of my body. There’s not that much between a sheer pair of tights and a snatch open to the elements. I’d watch the other girls dance. Twisting, spinning, sliding up and down. Wrapping their beautiful bodies around the golden poles. I saw the boozy lads, or the quiet single men tucking notes into the g-strings or between a couple of pressed-together tits. I wanted it all.

I liked it there. I lived in a little flat above the club with one of the girls, a shy type called Melinda, or Marinda – I could never remember – and she was hardly ever there to talk to. I would sleep late, then make myself a coffee and look out the windows across the sea of chimney-pots and TV aerials that made up the East End skyline. I liked it behind the bar too. It felt safe. I was cut off from the action, the fights and the slaps when the punters got too fresh. I was immune from the drunken brawls that occasionally broke out. I watched it all, soaked it up, took it all in. I felt at home.

Linda didn’t own the place, that was some shady guy called Col who we hardly ever saw. He had ‘interests’ all over London so left the day-to-day running to Linda.

The clients we had were a mixed bunch. This was the East End and there were office blocks nearby but we weren’t close enough to the City to attract the really high rollers, though that was just as well for me. We all know how lairy they can get around bonus time. We got a lot of stag-dos, market vendors and even a few students from the college up the road. But the group I saw the most was Fat Desmond’s crew, a gang of middling-violent gangsters. They were apparently ‘associates’ of Col’s, which is why they were basically allowed free run of the place. They paid up, usually, but refused to tip, and often tried to cheat the girls. Linda had had to pay them out of her own pocket from time to time when they were left short by some crooked-nosed gangster.

Fat Desmond took a shine to me soon after I started working there and he was forever pestering Linda to let me dance for him. For once I was grateful for her refusals. I didn’t want to dance for that fat slug. ‘Her mother’d never forgive me,’ she’d say. I shrugged at Desmond’s raised eyebrows.

Now Desmond wasn’t the only one of these gangsters who tried to make eye contact with me. There was another guy, Tony. He was good-looking, though a real rough diamond. He was the sort who’d terrify you half to death just by asking for a drink, then he’d smile, walk off and you’d find he’d left you wetter than the Little Mermaid.

Fat Desmond was in charge of this crew, but I could see Tony was hungry for power, and maybe for me too. I found him intriguing and exciting. I began to look forward to the gangsters’ visits and found myself hoping Tony would make his move soon.

My friends were the dancers, I learnt a lot from observing and talking to them. I learnt about pole dancing and lap dancing of course, but more importantly I learnt about people, and how to make money from them. How to spot the difference between a mark, who you could fleece, and a customer that you should look after so he’d come back. My best friend was named Jen, though her stage name was Alicia. She was a beautiful African girl, with a lovely round bottom and a heavy lower lip that men never failed to try and kiss, only to have her turn her head away as they lunged.

I watched her, entranced, as she languidly swayed around the pole. Jen hardly seemed to do anything, but every angle, every pose, showed her assets off to their best advantage. Though undoubtedly attractive, she was far from the best-looking girl in the club, but she regularly pulled in more money than the others, however blonde and thin they were. She did it by picking her punters carefully and working them until they gave everything they were prepared to give, then leaving them wanting more, so they’d ask the bouncer on the way out when Alicia would be dancing again. Sometimes when watching her, I’d yearn to be up there, with her. I wanted to be her.

One night she showed me part of the magic that enabled her to extract so much money from the punters. She’d been entangled with a group of noisy suits all night. They’d been trying to get her to let them touch her and she’d been trying to get them individually into the back room where the real money was made. They were upping the stakes. ‘I’ll go into the room if you kiss my mate’s knob in front of everyone. I’ll pay you £25 if you let me touch your pussy.’ They were determined not to go back there, aiming to keep it all public, probably to cash in on some bet.

I was keeping half an eye on this as I stacked the dishwasher and eventually saw Jen look over at me and say something I couldn’t hear. The boys looked over at me, interested, and I wondered with trepidation what she was suggesting. Then she walked over to me. She leaned across the bar and whispered, ‘They think you’re my girlfriend. Would you mind playing along? I’ll give you a quarter of the tip I get.’

I nodded dumbly, thinking I should probably have asked for more, but too keen to see what she had in mind. Then she leaned further over the bar, grabbed hold of my top and pulled me over to her. Then we were kissing. That soft, inviting lower lip mashed into mine and I felt her tongue slip softly into my open mouth. The boys erupted into cheers and I felt Jen, no Alicia’s, hand inside my top, fondling my right breast.

Then she pulled away, but kept her huge brown eyes locked on mine for a few moments, a look of hunger on her face. She licked her teeth and walked back to the boys. She made a lot of tips that night and duly gave me a quarter of what she’d got from the suits.

What I’m saying, ladies, is in this business, you’ve got to roll with what comes your way. There’s no room for prudishness here.

I found out more about the gang as time went on, including the fact that Fat Desmond was under suspicion of murder. Apparently his brother Mike had been found floating face-down in a canal. ‘This ain’t EastEnders,’ Linda had said, ‘and Mike’s not ever coming back to Walford Square.’

‘Why do the police think Desmond killed him?’ I asked.

‘Because he’s as good as admitted it. They had a row over some bird and Des swore he’d kill him. Heard by a dozen punters in The Fox two weeks ago. Plenty of grasses around all too happy to put Fat Desmond away,’ Linda replied. ‘Too cocky for his own good, that Desmond, won’t be long before someone knocks him off his perch. He won’t go to jail though I reckon, he’ll end up in the canal next to his brother.’

As she said this, I was watching Tony across the room. He was looking back at me. He smiled and winked, sending a thrill, or possibly a chill, down my spine.

One night it came to a head. The gangsters showed up late, just as we were about to close. It had been a long night and we’d had some trouble with a group of businessmen. One of the bouncers had a split lip from the fight that followed and was in a foul mood. The other one had already gone home. Desmond’s crew came barging in, four of them, loud, half-drunk and triumphant. There had been some job go down that day and by the looks of it, they’d come away with whatever it was they were after and were in the mood to celebrate.

The bouncer tried to stop them and ended up on the floor, curled up and gasping for breath. He’d had a rotten night, I thought. As the gang made their way to their favourite table, Linda shrugged and asked a few of the girls to stay on, telling them they could waive their club fees for that night if they did.

I made my way over to the bouncer. Everyone called him Dublin, on account of his accent. God knows what his story was, he never told us anything about his background, but he’d certainly learned to fight somewhere, and the scars on his face showed it. He was a lovely bloke though, if you ignored the vicious beatings he gave to out-of-order punters from time to time. He loved the girls like an uncle and would do anything for them. I brought him a stiff drink and helped him back on to his feet. It always paid to keep the bouncer sweet.

Dublin thanked me and raised the glass to his lips to take a slug when a hand appeared from nowhere and slapped the drink to the ground.

‘I think you should serve your customers before you serve the fucking heavies!’ Desmond spat. ‘Or we not good enough for you?’

He was drunk, and high on something perhaps. I was scared but didn’t let him see. I stood straight-backed and looked him in the eye. ‘What can I get you, sir?’ I asked gently. Remember, ladies, the punter is always right. Especially when you know he has a switchblade in his boot.

‘Get us a bottle of champagne. Bring a glass for yourself too.’ I looked at Linda. I was allowed to accept drinks from the customers. Though not to dance, of course. She nodded, tonight was not the night to say no to Desmond. Dublin watched, eyes like gimlets, ready to take action should it come to it. I desperately hoped it wouldn’t, as Dublin wouldn’t have stood a chance against these four. I brought over the bottle and Desmond patted the banquette beside him. I sat down. Tony watched me from across the table, his face unreadable. I saw he had a cut over one eye. A big night for everyone.

Desmond poured five glasses, overfilling them and finishing the bottle, which he tossed over the back of the banquette. ‘A toast,’ he said, eyes fixed on mine. ‘To getting what you want.’

‘To getting what you want,’ the gangsters chorused while I mouthed the words. I knew too well that getting what you wanted wasn’t always the best thing for you. I sipped the champagne and stared back at him coolly. He didn’t seem to like the fact I wasn’t simpering like some grateful, first-time hooker.

‘Dance for me,’ he said.

‘I’m not a dancer,’ I lied. Though, strangely, this time I wanted to do it. Not for him, but for myself, and maybe for Tony.

He laughed. ‘Oh, I think you are, Jackie. I think you’re quite the little ballerina.’ He watched me react to this, champagne dripping off his double chin.

I gasped in shock, despite myself. How on earth did he know that? My eyes flicked over to Linda, who shook her head slightly, as bemused as I. Desmond had obviously been doing some research. Hardly anyone knew about my past. But why would he take the time?

‘Now dance, Darcey-bloody-Bussell!’ he roared. For the third time I looked at Linda who nodded.

I stood as someone put ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’ on the stereo. The opening bars thumped out as I walked to the pole and I closed my eyes, feeling the music in my muscles. I stretched languorously as I leaned back from the pole, imagining I was in Guy’s arms in the studio. As the music warmed up I spun and lifted a long leg up against the pole.

Then the chorus hit and I took off my top in one swift movement. There was a sharp intake of breath. No one had asked me to take off my clothes but to me it was all part of the act. I opened my eyes, and as I swivelled around the pole, humping it languidly, I saw Jen and one of the other girls – Amber – watching me, open-mouthed, that hungry look back on Jen’s face. Linda was watching too, perhaps wondering if she should have let me dance before. Then the gangsters’ table swung past my vision. Desmond’s fat face leered at me, along with two of his minions, but Tony’s attention was focused on his boss, a look of pure hatred on his face. Then as I flipped around and hung back off the pole, I saw Dublin, who winked at me. I smiled back. I was dancing. And it felt like I was floating on air.

The future was uncertain, the atmosphere in the place heavy and oppressive. Things were set to change, I knew that, but just at that moment, I felt free. I felt in control, and I felt as happy as I’d been since Guy and I’d been thrown out of the Royal Ballet.

It didn’t last of course. Desmond summoned me over and asked me to give him a lap dance. I hesitated while he waved two fifties at me. Ultimately, it wasn’t the money that persuaded me. I didn’t doubt that he was the type of man to punch out at a woman if she didn’t comply. I climbed on his lap as ‘Danger Zone’ from Top Gun started up. I loved dancing to this song and I knew exactly what to do. I’d watched Jen and the other girls do it often enough. I tried not to grind too hard on him but he kept shoving his pelvis up at me and eventually I just rode him, trying to think of something else, but feeling his dick jabbing into me. I pushed my tits up together and brushed them across his lips. I watched in thinly-disguised contempt as he drooled down his chin.

‘In the back room,’ he grunted.

I froze. Don’t know why but I just hadn’t expected this. What else was he going to ask me to do? Linda spoke up. ‘No, she’s not going back there. She’s my niece, for Christ’s sake.’

Desmond swivelled and shot her a sneering glance. ‘She may be your niece, but she’s also my employee. And I say she goes into the back room with me.’

Linda looked gobsmacked.

‘Oh, didn’t I mention?’ he added, laughing now. ‘I own this place now. Part of our little “business transaction” earlier involved the deeds of this place changing hands. Poor old Col won’t be needing it anymore, not where he’s going.’ Desmond grabbed his drink in one hand, and my wrist in the other. He started to drag me off to the back room.

‘She’s not going,’ Linda said firmly. Dublin stood and moved towards us. Desmond snapped his fingers and his two goons rose to their feet and moved towards Dublin menacingly. He stood firm. As the crooks came near, he unleashed a massive round-house kick that sent one of them sprawling and took the other completely by surprise, unsettling him and leaving an opening. Dublin punched him once, twice in the face and the goon staggered back. But by that stage the first one had recovered and leapt on Dublin, bringing him crashing to the sticky carpet. One of the girls screamed. Jen raced up and began trying to pull the thug off. But the second stepped up and backhanded her across the face, before kneeling down and punching Dublin repeatedly in the face as the other held him down.

‘Stop!’ a voice called out firmly. The goons stopped their punching and turned to look at the owner of the voice. Tony.

Desmond looked at him in surprise. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t stop. Give him a good working over.’

But the goons hesitated. And Tony must have realised this was his opportunity. Tony walked over to Desmond, his eyes flicking over to me for just an instant, and said calmly, ‘Let the lady go, Des.’

Des stared back in amazement. He hadn’t seen this coming. ‘Lady?’ he sputtered. ‘This ain’t no lady. This …’ But he never got to finish as he was suddenly lying on the floor with one of his own teeth in his windpipe, choking him. He coughed and turned a dark shade of purple. Tony merely walked up to him and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. The tooth shot out and rattled across a nearby table.

Tony made a signal to the goons, who seemed to have been expecting this. Maybe, like me, they were just waiting for Tony to make his move. They lifted the dazed Desmond, still struggling for breath, and hauled him out the back door.

‘What’s gonna happen to him?’ I asked.

‘You don’t want to know,’ Tony replied, rubbing his bruised knuckles. ‘He wasn’t a very nice man, but then again, neither am I.’

I eyed him up and smiled. ‘You rescued this lady, you can’t be all bad.’

He thought for a minute, wondering if I was flirting, then smiled, almost shyly. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to chat to Linda for a bit. You gonna hang around?’

‘I live here,’ I said coolly, and walked away, swinging my behind. I could feel those piercing eyes watching me go.

I picked up my top and went back behind the bar, where I felt more comfortable. Maybe I shouldn’t ever have stepped out from its protective embrace. I realised I was still shaking and poured myself a stiff drink. I got one for Jen and Amber too who wanted to know what Tony had said to me.

The goons came back, without Desmond, and joined in the chat with Linda and Tony, who I guessed was our new boss.

Later, Tony came over to speak to me. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

I shrugged. ‘No broken bones, just a slightly bruised wrist.’

He gazed into my eyes, but I felt ready to meet that gaze. I had nothing to be ashamed of. Did I? What did he want from me?

‘Let me buy you a drink,’ he said. Now ladies, from the look of you, you’ve probably heard every chat-up line devised by man. Some of you look like most of them might have worked, too. But as far as I’m concerned, ‘Let me buy you a drink,’ is all it takes. It’s simple, it’s forceful without being creepy and it gets the message across.

You might think I should have grabbed that drink with two hands and without a second thought. I fancied him, and he had money. He could have rescued me, taken me away somewhere and installed me in a nice house somewhere, maybe Epping.

But I didn’t. I stood and looked back into those eyes for a long time, thinking it over. I didn’t mind the fact he was a gangster for myself, but I had other … concerns, shall we say?

‘Trust me,’ I told him. ‘You wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he said. But just then Linda asked me to help her with the till – it was forever sticking – and with a last, sad smile I left Tony standing in the middle of the bar and walked away.

And that’s storytelling hour over, ladies. Now those of you who think you can handle the ride, in more ways than one, stick around and we’ll audition you. Those of who ain’t up to it: leave now.