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Beautiful Beast

By:Georgia Le Carre



‘My milkshake brings all the girls to the yard.’

I stand at the bar, my hand loosely curled around a bottle of ice-cold beer, and try to imagine a hundred years passing inside these glittering walls. And in a flash I am connected to every sad, twisted fucker inside that cavernous former theater. In a century we’re all going to be nothing but a fistful of dust. But today … Hot blood throbs in my cock and I am still king of my empire of dirt.

I cast my eyes around—and everything is exactly as it should be.

Cool air filters out of vents in the ceiling, loud music beats on my skin like morning rain in the tropics, and roving spotlights pick up waitresses in fluffy white tutus. With their tight little butts on show, they glide around as perky as fucking swans.

Sometimes the spotlights stop to lick one of the scantily clad, insanely glamorous dancers sprinkled around the place like magic dust. They are the candy in my sweet shop. Because … Hidden in the cool shadows of the booths where the spotlights never go, soulless men in dark suits and bulging wallets wait with buckets of champagne and an insatiable taste for pussy. Not that they can actually have any while they’re in here, obviously, but hey, they can jerk off to the memory until their dicks drop off.

Yup, all is well in Eden.

I pick up my beer, bring it to my lips, and notice something that isn’t exactly as it should be.

Martin, my manager, is escorting one of the dancers out of one of the VIP rooms. His lips are compressed into a thin line of fury, and she looks shit-scared as she struggles to keep up in her seven-inch-high transparent, plastic shoes. They have red lights inside the wedges that flash every time she takes a tottering step. Fuck, my four-year-old niece wears trainers that flash. I have never seen her before, so she must be new.

A row of beautiful girls preening by the bar exchanges knowing looks. One or two giggle heartlessly when a discreet, black exit door draped with thick, red velvet curtains swallows the pair. Beyond is Martin’s office where the hiring and firing is done.

I take a sip of cold beer, my eyes swinging back in the direction of the VIP room they have just vacated. In an impressive show of clockwork precision, the housemother, Brianna, is already slipping into it. You can tell by her purposeful air and the veiled expression on her carefully made-up face that she is on a clean-up mission.

She emerges a few minutes later, smiling serenely, and nods to one of the girls loitering by the bar. The girl immediately starts walking toward her. They meet by the mirrored pillars, exchange a few words before the girl makes for the VIP room, and Brianna continues, unruffled, on her journey.

Problem solved.

The music changes and AronChupa’s quirky track ‘I’m an Albatraoz’ fills the charmed air. One of the club’s favorite dancers, Melanie, a sleek black girl in a skin-tight catsuit with geometric patterns, struts energetically onto the stage. The effect of her appearance is instantaneous: the atmosphere in the club becomes electric. The stage lights are switched off, and Melanie disappears. All that remains is the collection of fluorescent patterns on her costume working their way strongly up a pole. It is a marvelous sight and the audience erupts in a collective roar of approval.

I place my drink down and turn back to watch the curtained door. I don’t tend to interfere in the day-to-day running of my club. Why would I? Any fool can see that between Martin and Brianna they run a very tight ship. And yet something about flashing shoes has my interest piqued.

Perhaps it is because I can always tell an innocent with one look, and she is as green as they come. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is her first attempt at strip dancing. But mostly because I can never let an injustice pass. It used to get me into all kinds of trouble when I was a kid, but it’s in my DNA; I just can’t look the other way.

Less than five minutes later she tumbles back into the club. Her ridiculous wedges are still flashing, but tears are streaming down her face. Martin has cracked the whip. She has been fired. She lurches toward a side door that leads to the changing rooms. I walk quickly to the door nearest to me and enter my pass code. The door opens into the passage she has entered.

‘Oh!’ she exclaims when she sees me. In the bright lights of the corridor, her face, under its thick make-up, has a washed out hue, and her eyes are glassy and distraught.

‘Come with me,’ I say, and she silently follows me upstairs to my office. I hold the door open and let her precede me. Closing the door, I then walk toward my liquor cabinet.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I throw over my shoulder.

‘No thank you, Mr. Eden,’ she replies meekly.

I turn my head and meet her eyes. She is actually a stunner. ‘Call me Shane,’ I tell her softly.

She frowns with confusion.

‘Have a seat,’ I invite and pour two stiff measures of brandy.

Walking over to her, I hold out a glass. She accepts it with a murmur of thanks and I notice the sudden change in her body language. She thinks I am coming on to her. Unsure about my intentions, she has reverted to her usual routine. Sweet, really.

I have occasionally dated girls from the club if they’re totally irresistible and they get my ‘have cock will travel’ rules, but generally I prefer not to. It’s bad business all round. I move to my desk and, leaning my butt against the edge, cross my arms over my chest and smile at her.

She smiles back tremulously, her eyes moist with invitation. In a practiced gesture of seduction, she looks down and bats her waterlogged eyelashes coquettishly.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask her.


I hide a smile. ‘Right, Bubbles. Want to tell me what happened?’

She turns bright red. ‘Martin fired me,’ she confesses painfully.


‘I … I … let a customer … uh … touch me,’ she reveals.

‘You must have known you’re not allowed to. Why did you do it?’

She looks up at me, her eyes large and begging. ‘I swear I didn’t want to. I told him no, but he said if I didn’t allow him to he would call for another girl. I’ve only been here for a week and I’ve hardly made enough to cover my house fees. He was the first man who asked me for a private dance. I didn’t want to break the rules, honestly I didn’t, but at the same time I didn’t want to lose my best chance to make some money, especially after he told me that everyone did it.’

She opens her left palm in an appealing gesture. ‘So I told him I needed to go to the toilet and I went out into the club and asked Nikki for advice, since she’s the best earner in the club.’

Her face becomes bitter. ‘She told me I’d be stupid to let such a high flyer escape. And that any of the other girls would have touched him without a second thought. “It’s totally harmless. Just touch him from the outside of his clothes and no one will be the wiser,” she said.’

I frown. ‘Were you not told there are cameras inside every booth?’

‘Yes,’ she admits sadly. ‘And Martin has just taken me to his office and made me watch myself act like a fool. But Nikki convinced me that the cameras are just there for show. That there is no film in them and no one actually monitors them. I know I did wrong, but I truly believed her. She is the star of this club. Nobody makes more money than her. I’m a nobody; I’ve just started working in this club and I’m no competition to anybody, so I never thought that she would play such a dirty trick on me. How wrong I was.’ Her voice is filled with regret.

She leans forward suddenly, her face intense. ‘I felt I had no choice. She told me that if I don’t start earning money soon I will be thrown out because I was taking the place of a girl who could be earning big money for the club. I really didn’t know what else to do.’ Her face fills with sadness. ‘I have commitments. My mother, my babies. I have twins in Brazil. My mother is taking care of them. I need to send money back. They need me to survive.’

She is so young, it never occurred to me that she is a mother. ‘How old are you?’


I nod and gaze at her. She lacks confidence, but Brianna did not make a mistake taking her on, and Nikki had good reason to try to eliminate her. She has something very special, and one day she will be a valuable asset to this club and great competition to Nikki.

I put my brandy down. ‘I’ll give you another chance, but if you ever break any of my club’s rules again, you’re out and, as per industry practice, your name will be circulated to all the other clubs.’

She clasps her hands together, her eyes shining with gratitude. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much, Shane. I promise on my two children’s lives I’ll never let you down.’


As if unable to contain her excitement she bounces out of her chair like a puppy.

‘Go home, Bubbles. I’ll have a word with Martin later.’

She comes close enough for me to feel the heat coming off her body and, tipping forward in her flashing wedges, plants a feather-light kiss on my cheek. I cock an eyebrow and she lets her heels drop back to the ground and, slowly, licks her thickly glossed lips. Yes, Bubbles definitely has something.

A ripe, tight, eager pussy. Very predictably, my cock is interested, but my cock is always full of bad fucking ideas. Girls like Bubbles, they look like they’re figuring on a cheap thrill with a hot, hard dick for the night, but that’s like watching a snake slither up to you and thinking, Awww … look, it wants a little cuddle. Take it from me, they don’t even give you a chance to take the condom off before they’re making wedding plans in their heads. Me, I like a little bit of Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita.