FicWad

The next day, Sarah stood outside of a large, sparkling building, adorning a large top hat. No doubt it would be glowing neon by eight that night. She walked in slowly, over to a tall man standing behind a wooden que.
“Hi.” She smiled awkwardly, “I-I’m Sarah. Tim told me to meet him here?”
The man just nodded, beckoning over another big, buff man, who took her by the arm gently, leading her through a hall blacked off by velvet rope. She looked around the club to find it was quite busy, dancers dancing, looking utterly beautiful, making her feel a little self conscious. She followed the man into a back room where Tim sat on a red, plush couch along with three other people, sipping martinis. They looked up as she entered and Tim clapped, grinning, and stood.
“And here she is, the new addition to our little family.” He walked over to her, leading her by the arm and sitting her on the couch beside an older, but still beautiful woman.
“Everybody, this is Sarah.”
The lady nodded at her and the two men smiled. One was tall, kind of scrawny, the other short and feminine.
“Sarah, this is Claudette, she’s going to be your, manager. This gentleman right here,” He motioned to the tall man, “is Bobby-Joe. He’ll be your stylist. And this last young man, is Paul. He’s your choreographer. We have to keep those men out there happy. Fresh routines every two weeks.”
Sarah nodded.
“Martini?” Paul offered, to which she gratefully declined.
“Now, your pay will be five percent of the take at the door. There are ten girls, five percent each, plus tips. Me and Claudette split fifty, as we own the place and don’t get to dance for Ulysses.”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
“You get fifty dollar tips?”
Claudette smiled.
“And more. The men who come here are very, very rich, darling.”
Sarah smiled.
“All clear on the rules, then?” Tim asked. Sarah nodded enthusiastically.
“Alright, well, let’s get started.” Bobby-Joe walked over to her and led her farther back in the room, through another short hall, to a large bathroom. He went straight to a large cabinet at the back, taking out a box of bleach.
“So, I’m thinking blond. Any objections?”
Sarah shook her head and he smiled.
“Good. And we’ll get you some contact lenses.”
Later that evening, Sarah stood in front of the mirror in her hotel room, examining her newly blonde, straight hair. She barely recognized herself- she’d had curly brown locks for her entire life. She liked the blond though. It was different, and that’s why she’d come to Vegas in the first place. She shook her head and went into the other room, flopping on the bed. She had to go back the next day to work with Paul on her first dance. She was nervous. What if she was horrible? What if she couldn’t even stand? She let the thought slip from her head as she fell asleep.