Sometimes when you are late, circumstances mean you just get later.

This luckily was not one of those days, as despite the vast numbers of visitors in town, a taxi had been waiting and had whisked them to Jacob's in minutes, arriving almost exactly at a quarter past eight.

Jacob's had probably been an industrial unit at one time and except for the lights at the door and in the car-park, the outside was dark and forbidding. Cars and taxis were coming and going as groups of customers arrived, checked in and out, and departed.

Inside the club was vaguely typical of those that you get just outside the limits of most American cities. Except being Las Vegas, it was perhaps a little less downmarket and only just the other side of the railroad track, still well within the confines of Clark County. Beer, spirits and other drinks were reasonably priced and what food there was appeared to be simple, basic and awful. But the drinks and the food were not why people and men in particular came to these sort of places.

They came to see the girls dance.

***

The club was arranged so that there were four dumbel-shaped, raised and polished runways on which the girls stripped and danced, illuminated by spotlights, hung from the girders that supported the high ceiling. Each was on one side and about ten feet away from the massive square central bar, where Jacob himself, a short, curly-haired black not unlike Huggy-Bear of Starsky and Hutch fame, controlled the proceedings, the dancers and their loud music and several efficient bar-tenders. A rather ribby, silicon-chested, tattooed, badly-bottled blonde, dressed in a lop-sided, black G-string, that had more tassels due to wear and tear than design, was trying her best on the far side in front of perhaps twenty or so, over-enthusiastic and well-oiled punters.

'Can you imagine this in Canterbury?' Lucinda smiled at his observation.

'It's not all that prim and proper, you know!' Her expression was all mock hurt. 'I lost my virginity at the Pony Club!'

They quickly located Russ and his two girls, who had commandeered one of the large table-cum-dance floors at the end of a runway, where comfortable seats for about ten had been arranged around the circumference. Derek and Gaynor had not arrived, but they had been joined by two of Zyzzx's other customers from COMDEX.

'Hi. Cindy!' One of the newcomers had risen and was greeting her warmly. 'Remember me, I'm Dave and this is Steve.' They all shook hands. 'We were both born and raised at Houston, in the state of Texas.' The accents and phrasing were true to type. 'Russ asked us along to see the sights of your beautiful city of Las Vegas.' Coming from Houston, explained the adjective that few would apply to Vegas. She reluctantly accepted their offer to sit down between them, more out of duty to the company than anything else..

'Beer!' Russ pushed a Corona towards the Englishman. 'What's yours Lucinda?'

'A Coke will be fine!' She winked across and caught his eye. He winked back and she smiled, as she tried to extricate herself from the two from Texas.

***

In the next hour he learnt more about Zyzzx, than he had gleaned in the previous part of the that day, or he had read in any of the preceding years. He just watched those at the table, as the music blared, the dancers danced and the drink flowed.

Why Russ had chosen this place or anything similar, he did not know! To him, they were the sort of joint, where a lonely man in an alien town or country could enjoy a little sexual entertainment, without any risk of spending fortunes on clap-riddled whores and shows that didn't exist. He'd been by himself many times in cities such as New York, San Francisco, Vegas itself and even staid old Boston and had found these bars, sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always welcoming and amusing, as they showed all sides of that unfathomable complexity, that is human life.

Bring customers here if that is Dave and Steve want! He'd taken men mud-wrestling in San Francisco, to strippers in Birmingham and to restaurants that served school dinners in London. If it creates sales and money, then it should and must be done. But why ask Gaynor and Lucinda?

Perhaps Derek had been right, when he said he didn't warm to Russ! He certainly didn't. The man was all about base instincts, chauvinism and all the excesses of life, like smoking, womanising, alcohol, too much food and perhaps drugs. There was no soul, style or class in the man.

He also watched the dancers, as they tried hard to make a living. In that hour, ten perhaps twelve dancers had strutted and gyrated, and bared and swung their breasts at their table. Russ and the two Houstonians had at least done the honourable and placed several five or ten dollar bills in their garters or the tops of their stockings, but of those dancers only one or perhaps two had any movement or style and were worth any higher level of tip or reward.

Lucinda remained the total professional. She'd already indicated her disdain for the clients, but if you listened to the conversation, you would not have known it, as she answered difficult questions, parried hurtful and sexist asides, and repelled their advances. Even when Dave had his hand on that bare leg above her stocking top, she just gave a polite slap and gently grabbed the errant hand and placed it firmly back on the table. He did not try it again and her wide smile did not slacken or wilt, at the obvious intrusion. If all of the other support personnel were as good, dedicated and forthright, then he would have no fears about throwing his lot in with this company. Except for the excesses of Russ!

He liked Helen and Sandra. They were both nineteen and friends from High School in Las Vegas, who had been trainees with the company for about a year and were now working as full members of different customer support teams. He asked about their training which showed through strongly in the way they dealt with his leading and searching questions about the company, its philosophy and its products.

Where was Derek? He thought Gaynor or himself might have phoned to apologise. He even checked at the bar, but Jacob said that there had been no call, and as he knew Russ well, it would not have been a problem to pass a message. Perhaps Gaynor had led Derek astray or it might have even been the other way round, and Russ' two pensioners were enjoying all the best pleasures of the flesh, the brain and the wallet, that the town had to offer. But why didn't either phone, as they knew where all the others would be? Still both were old enough and hopefully sensible enough, not to get themselves into any trouble they could not handle!

He kept returning to watching his host.

A waitress would be called and whilst she was taking the order, Russ would put his scrawny and nicotine-stained hand up her short skirt or lewdly fondle her body. He tipped well and was it seemed a very regular customer, so either she didn't mind at all or perhaps more likely, she felt that to do so would be very unwise. A dancer would come and dance especially for him. This was not unusual in that they would hopefully get paid extra, but with Russ they really earned their money. As she would sit and twist on his lap, simulating the sex act, he would push her as far as he dared, by pinching and squeezing her breasts and buttocks. He also found it funny to introduce them to his cigar. But in Las Vegas everything, even disgusting behaviour can be tolerated and of course it has both a cost and a price.

But what he found to be most offensive, was the way Russ treated the two youngsters.

Not content to tell Dave and Steve, that he was having both of them in his bed tonight, he kept offering them at an almost bargain price to complete strangers in the bar. Perhaps, the two girls thought he was just being funny or more likely they did not want to lose their well-paid jobs. At one point he was about to intervene and tell Russ to shut up and act like a gentleman, but Sandra, who was sitting next to him, quickly stopped him by sticking a well-placed stiletto heel into his ankle.

As the clock drew past nine-thirty, he was getting bored with pounding, conversation-deadening music, the constant repetition of useless and sometimes ugly dancers and the almost endless stream of Coronas. Truth be told, he had probably only had three or four of the Mexican beers, whereas Russ and the two Texans were way ahead of him, but he was not that keen on the bottled brew, compared to the real Adnams or Greene King he habitually sought out in London or Suffolk.

He was tired as well, more so from the time difference, than any great exertions and he was beginning to think, that bed might be the best place for him.

***

'Well! Lucinda are you going to dance for us then?' Russ' statement was blunt, completely out of the blue, didn't seem to contain an ounce of jest and expected an affirmative answer.

Lucinda did not respond how anybody sitting around the table thought she would. She did not say anything to Russ, but after an exceeding quick word with Helen and showing a rather angry face, she stood up and strode imperiously towards the bar. They watched as she talked earnestly with Jacob.

'She's going to do it!' Russ was showing his first real emotion of the night. 'She's going to do it! She's going to dance!' He rose and waved his fists in the air, as Lucinda climbed athletically onto the bar, vaulted the pumps and glasses, and disappeared out of view into the cellars below.

Russ was not so sure ten minutes later, as three girls had appeared on their stage, stripped, danced and collected their tips. 'You didn't push her too far, did you? She hasn't left us and gone home?' Steve asked the questions that everyone else were thinking.

'No, she's teased me for years. It's her way of keeping me under control!' The others thought there might perhaps be a softer side after all.

Copyright 1999 by Ewart Higgins