Babes Stripping For Love

Strange things had happened she thought. But when her car suddenly ran out of gas in front of what looked like a strip club, Bree didn't want to take it as a sign. She needed a real job, the single mom has two more hours before she has to pick up Hazel from daycare.

"Missy, you can't park here," the big man with a thick mustache that looked like it was making a comeback from the seventies warned Bree.

"I don't intend to, it ran out of gas, I..." Bree pressed down the window button to let the man hear her better.

"Well, you can park it here," the man cut her words and repeated his statement with a stronger volume as if Bree didn't hear him the first time around.

Oh god... she said on the inside.

Suddenly all the stress from the last couple of days came rushing down, her chest heaved and her eyes started to get blurry.

Oh god, not now... her inner voice once again replays the words.

"Dude, Elvis, it's not even noon and you're making a beautiful woman cry already. Not cool man..." a man with an arm sleeve tattoo slapped the big mustache guy on his back.

"Hey, I'm Rocco, I'm sorry about my buddy Elvis here. Yeah, that's his real name. Look, are you here for the audition? come on in, you looked like you can use a drink."

"But, my car..."

Rocco, the tattooed guy peeked at her gas meter and smiled, "happens all the time to my girlfriend, Elvis, will you help..." he waited and it took Bree a couple of seconds to connect her brain to her ability in forming a sentence.

"Bree," she blurted out her name, and the tattooed guy smiles warmly.

"Elvis, will you help Bree with her car? I believe you know how to pump gasoline into a car?" the man gave him his car key and before Bree realized Rocco knocked on her door frame and she opened her door, took his hand, and let him usher her into the dimmed lit strip club.

Bree left her ten-year-old Honda with keys still in the ignition to the grumpy-looking Elvis. Her head was still not registering as Rocco put a cold can of soda in front of her once she was seated at the bar area of the club.

"I'm Rocco, the bartender, sometimes floor manager and sometimes I handle all the shit that's happening here. Including the audition for the stripper today."

"But I'm not auditioning for a stripper, I need a real job." Her words made him laugh.

"You better not let the girls hear that. So, my bad then, but we don't have other openings at the moment. Are you sure you're not a dancer? sorry, but your posture is on spot." Rocco moved back behind the bar, rustling some glass then joined Bree with a cold glass of tap beer for himself.

"Well, I took gymnastics and cheered back in high school and college." Not to mention she also took pole dance classes for moms when she tried to mend her marital situation with Everett. Trying to spice things up in the bedroom, but obviously failed.

"There you go," the man winked playfully and took out a form from under the bar telling her she should take the job application form with her and think about it, all while he told her about the job description and working hours. 

"I... I can't I have a kid, I can't leave her overnight."

Rocco shrugged telling her there are several women who are also single moms, "All the women here look after each other, I heard something about babysitting rotation. You can check with them if you're interested. But know this, you get to bring home tips minus the house cuts. And these women take home a lot, I know this because my girlfriend is one of them." He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows making Bree feel more at ease and started skimming the club's application form.

"You can work three days a week and get more than you would from a nine to five desk job each month."

"But I'm not..."