I made you the second I laid eyes on you. It's not that I'm great at spotting cops or rats (though I'm so cautious it's been almost ten years since I've even allowed a cell phone into my office or house, much less spoken on one); it's more that there was something about you -- some air, some aura -- that told me you were no stripper. I didn't know what was hiding under those skimpy outfits -- either a reporter's pen or a cop's badge -- but I knew I didn't like it.

"How'd she get the job?" I asked Carlo one night, scowling over the edge of my scotch, watching your dance with a livelier eye than I usually do. Lots of beautiful girls dance at Safari, but it's been a long time since I saw any of them as more than money in a g-string ... and problems to avoid.

Carlo shrugged. "How's anyone get the job? Showed up, nice tits, nice legs, good moves."

"I bet she didn't blow you, though. Or Freddie." Freddie's the manager and the public face of Safari -- short, greasy, ever-sweaty. Just clean enough to keep a liquor license; not ambitious enough to make trouble.

Carlo's brows knitted together. "Naw, not me. Said she wasn't looking to do more than dance. Shit, boss, you know we can't whore 'em all out. We got to be able to give a few to the state inspector -- "

I wave a hand dismissively. I know all about Safari's hiring practices. "Yeah. And I'm willing to bet she never goes into the champagne room, or goes home with a bachelor party, or comes out of the back room wiping her mouth. Right?"

Comprehension dawned on Carlo's face. He's smarter than he looks. "It doesn't mean she's a -- "

"No, it doesn't. But keep an eye on her."

Carlo nods, watching you almost as closely as I do. "Whaddaya wanna do about her if she is, though?"

I think about it, watching your ass, watching you writhe against the pole. Something stirs below my waist, something about the gleam in your eye. I wonder if you're enjoying this more than you thought you would.

"Nothing. It's not like we can dump her in the bay. Cop or reporter goes missing from the place, that's a bigger story than what goes on here every day." I think about it, swirling the ice in my drink. The best thing to do would bore you until you leave -- keep you away from any of the tricking that's more than the girls operating independently, make sure you don't get cozy with any of my men, and most of all make sure the H we move through the basement isn't here on nights you're working.

But something about your eyes makes me wonder otherwise.

"You know what? Tell her I want to meet her. Send her to my office before her first set this Friday."

Carlo eyes me curiously. "You sure, boss?"

I eye your ass, your legs, catch that interesting gleam in your eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure." I grin and throw back the rest of my scotch. "Might be she's more of an asset than a liability."

Mob boss and undercover stripper (you can decide your background, your appearance, everything!) with a natural descent into corruption. I've left your appearance completely up to you, but it's not going to stay that way -- I like the idea of you having small to average sized breasts and one of the first things I have you do is to get implants, but there's lots of other toys to play with ... tattoos and piercings, perhaps. Would love to incorporate petplay into this at some point (the club is called Safari...)

Hope to hear from you!