“She shared a flat with Joisey for awhile, you mighde wanna try hoir.”

Joisey? Oh, Jersey! Wow… they named their strippers after states… or livestock.

He nodded his head towards the back of the club and I entered, cringing at the feel and smell of the place.

There was a small black door at the back. It quite clearly said, Staff. Do Not Enter. Ignoring it, I pushed my way in. The first door I came to had a crummy office with a crummy man in it. He didn’t look like a strip club owner, he looked like a professional wrestler. When his eyes met mine though, I had no doubt that he owned the place. Or that he wasn’t someone I wanted to be in the same room as for very long.

“You lookin for a job blondie?” He asked, leering.

I shook my head furiously, “No, I’m looking for Joisey, I mean Jersey.” Damn my mouth.

He raised an eyebrow. “What you want with one of my girls.”

“I… she knows a friend of mine and I need to ask her something.”

“Really?” Ok, this conversation was going on way too long.

I nodded. “If you could just point me her way I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Maybe I like you in my hair,” he grinned.

I stopped myself from screaming ‘I’m a dyke and you don’t have any hair!’ and smiled weakly instead. “Can you just tell me where she is.”

“Down the hall, on the left. And lady if you cause any trouble… you and I will be having more than words.”

Ew, walking talking jerk cliché.

Down the hall on the left turned out to be the ‘dressing room’, code for a shoddy bathroom with a bench and a smell like a rat had died in there. Two women were in not much clothing, and greeted my blushing self with a cool stare.

“What?”

Ok, these were not your friendly strippers, you know, the ones that rescue puppies for fun.

“Sorry, I was looking for Jersey.” I tried to look as apologetic as possible.