Читать книгу Two Drops Of Water - Nicola Rocca - Страница 17

CHAPTER 7

She was still wondering whether to accept his job offer. If she said yes, she'd have to leave her hometown behind for...months? Years?

Move to the back and beyond somewhere in Tuscany.

If she said no, she'd be throwing away a golden opportunity. Paid employment at a time when jobs were at a premium.

A wave of disgust washed over her as she thought back to her work at the strip club.

She hadn't enjoyed getting naked in front of all those lust-fuelled men; she'd just needed the money. She'd put up with it for around three years and probably would have kept doing so had it not happened.

One evening, while she was changing before heading home, Signor Tironi came into the changing room and asked for five minutes of her time so the two of them could talk business.

Business, that's what he said.

She agreed and he embarked on a seemingly never-ending monologue

before eventually getting to the point.

The business.

He told her she was one of the best dancers and strippers he'd ever worked with. And also the most beautiful. She was loved by all the customers, but one was particularly keen. A wealthy businessman in his fifties. Tironi told her the man was willing to pay anything to spend a night with her.

Chantal raised an eyebrow and looked at him disdainfully.

"So, what do you think?" he asked casually. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

She answered quickly and firmly.

"I'm a dancer, not a whore."

He smiled.

"If you were some kind of nun, you wouldn't be flashing your tits about in my club. Think about it, Chantal. This guy is our best customer. He's got more money than the lot of us put together," he said, drawing a circle in the air with a nicotine-stained finger.

"I strip because I need the money," she replied coldly. "I'm not proud of what I do, but getting your kit off in front of men is one thing, and going to bed with them is something else entirely."

Tironi drew closer and stroked her hair, his stubby fingers brushing against her face.

"Perhaps...but you may not even have to sleep with him." He smiled at her again. "He might be happy with...you know...flirt with him a little, get him hard, suck him off. Close your eyes for three minutes, swallow like a good girl and walk off with five hundred big ones."

She tied up her shoes and stood up. Walked over to the little table and picked up her soft drink.

"So, let's see if I've understood." She stroked her boss's cheek. "I flirt with him a little." She brushed up against him. "I get him hard." She bit her lip. "And I suck him off." She slid her index finger inside her mouth and bit down. Hard.

Tironi smirked.

Chantal continued.

"Then I close my eyes," she whispered, gently pushing down her boss's eyelids. "Three minutes and..."

She threw her drink in Tironi's face.

"Fuck off, you prick!" she snarled.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, you stupid girl? You do realise that I could..."

She never heard the end of that sentence. She had already stormed out of the changing room and slammed the door behind her.

She hadn't worked for the strip club since and never would again. She'd been out of work for nearly two years before Robobi's forced her into a two-year contract earning a few hundred euros a month. And then chose not to renew it.

"Bastards," she said, piercing a cube of mozzarella with her fork.

She convinced herself that the offer from the guy in the chat room – What was he called again? Oh yeah, Alfredo – really was a golden ticket. Salary, board and lodging. It was the answer to all her prayers.

If she accepted the job, she'd have to go and see her father before she left. He might have been off his rocker these days, but she would still have to say goodbye.