Chapter 11: Chapter 11: My First Real Outfit, Part 2
When I left the club to go out to the parking lot, I met up with him near my car. He suggested that we could both ride in his car, and my face must have betrayed me (as it always does).
Stranger danger! Stranger danger! Stranger danger!
"I promise I'm not going to kidnap you and murder you. It'll just be easier, so you won't have to follow."
But that's what a murderer would say!
However, my intuition said that this guy was being honest. He had treated me with respect in the club, hadn't aggressively pressured me, and didn't seem like the human-trafficking type. When I climbed into his black Audi S5, I noted the California license plates. The inside was pristinely clean, like it had just been detailed, but had a subtle yet distinct smell of weed. I took a whiff of that sweet, oily scent and shot him a smile and raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, ha ha, well, I am from Cali, and you know how we roll."
I grinned at him. "No worries, I totally smoke." See, I am cool. I smoke pot. See Jane smoke. See Jane strip.
When we arrived at Electrique Boutique, he immediately started browsing and going through items like a pro, referencing my body height, size, and type, as if he were my personal wardrobe assistant. He held up some outfits to me and discarded them if they were the wrong color or style.
"Don't get me wrong," he said, sorting through silk and lace, satin and polyester. "What you got going on is fine, but you need something…slutty. You wanna change it up, sometimes; that's how you get a lot of customers. Here we go."
He picked out an orange and black, tiger-striped outfit with skimpy overall straps, a purple-and-pink schoolgirl outfit, and a black-and-red corset.
"Here, try these on and let me see."
I went into the dressing room, oddly feeling more self-conscious than I had in the club. I knew at this point how to be a stripper (or at least, learning how to pretend to be one) but I didn't know how to be a model. I tried on each one, and when I opened the dressing room door, I turned around for his benefit, acting coy and shywhich I was.
"Yes… That's what I'm talking about."
They were pieces of lingerie that I would have never worn in real lifenor would anyone. This was a store that specialized in lingerie specifically for the stage. Stripper uniforms: they come in every color and style the rainbow, and the less fabric used, the more they cost. But he knew exactly what a customer would want; ostensibly because he was a customer himself.
"Let me see you. Yes, those guys are going to go crazy for your ass. I'm not gonna lie, your ass is amazing, and you definitely need to show it off."
I changed back into my "street clothes." As we walked up to the cashier, I felt self-conscious about having this man paying for all my clothes. Then again, I thought she's probably seen this before.
"That comes to one hundred and eighty-three dollars and sixty cents," she intoned in a voice dripping with boredom.
$183.60.
For three items.
I tried to keep a poker face. Why yes, I'm completely used to having men spend $200 on clothes for me in a single purchase. Me, who pops Ross tags, or browses the secondhand vintage store across the street from the library. Of course.
He pulled out two hundred-dollar bills from the sea of blue in his wallet. He didn't have an ostentatious way of spending cash like some guys do. He did it as though it were something almost mundane, like he was putting a dollar in a vending machine, yet he had dropped over $300 on me in total.
Once we were back in the car, I thanked him profusely. I had been given an unexpected leg up in the industry: new outfits and advice.
"Don't even mention it," he said, with a wave of his hand. We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes talking. "Look," he said. "I know you have a boyfriend, and I have a girlfriend. But I would really like your number, so we can get to know each other."
My first lesson in the fundamental economic concept of "There is no such thing as a free lunch." I felt compelled to give it to him, both because he had spent so much money on me, and because I was hoping for a regular customer.
I got out of the car and leaned over.
"Thank you so much for this. I hope I see you again real soon."
I didn't. I never saw him again, either because he went back to his nightly routine, or he knew I was a "dead end," in terms of girls he could potentially date/have sex with.
I put the bag of clothes in my trunk. I obviously couldn't take them into my apartment where Nolan would see a bag from a lingerie store or risk having him see the bag in my backseat. I managed to make it back home around 7:30, like normal.
Yet absolutely nothing about that day had been normal.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone