Jersey knew she hadn't been the best that night, some of the other women having also put a lot of consideration, effort, and practice into their performances, but she was up near the top. Not long after finishing, she was in a side office with a manager, wearing a robe and counting the money, surrendering the club's cut. Between the currency she'd collected from the stage and what was left in tip baskets being marched through the club by servers, she ended up with just over three thousand dollars for her four-minute routine. Making notes on his computer, the manager promised to hold it in the club's safe and give her a check for that amount at the end of her shift. Jersey knew she'd have to find an ATM as soon as she left.

The consequence of the stellar performance was that her legs ached like crazy. Downing a couple Advil's, she accepted a colleague's offer of an ointment containing Hemp Extract. It was all-natural, so she saw no harm in it.

She was rubbing the cream into her calves when a waitress entered the dressing room. This one wasn't carrying a basket.

"A whale's requested you," she said. "Management set him up in the back."

Jersey was conflicted. The three thousand in the club's safe already represented one of her best nights ever. Were she to give a few private dances and chat with a few more customers, she could probably pile another five hundred to a thousand on top of that. However, going to the suite in the back had all kinds of possibilities, including doubling her earnings. Still, her legs were screaming. All the workouts in the world couldn't have prepared her for what she'd already done on stage tonight.

Then again, the suite had no stage. Since this whale hadn't requested otherwise, she'd enter in just her sandals as usual. The best case scenario was she could sit and talk with the evening's occupants. If she had to perform lap or bed dances, at least she'd be off her feet. She could weather that.

"Tell them I'll be right there," she said, continuing to rub the ointment into her legs.

* * *

Kurtis was the bouncer on duty for the VVIP suite's entrance tonight. He and Jersey never spoke much and he gave her a single half-nod as she walked by tonight.

No one was waiting at the door for her. Jersey entered the suite with the best smile she could muster despite being sore and tired.

"Good evening," she said and froze.

Simon Clemons was sitting on the couch. His friends, Nick and the unnamed third man, were at the bar. Simon Clemons was grinning.

"Come on in," he encouraged, waving her towards him.

Jersey took a few cautious steps forward. Simon Clemons reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him. He guided her right onto his lap, her knees ending up on either side of him.

"Easy," Jersey admonished, trying to sound playful.

"Sorry," Simon Clemons said, putting his hands on her hips. "You're probably still sore. That was one heck of a performance you gave out there earlier. We watched it from upstairs."

Jersey wondered if he was being sincere as he stared at her breasts.

"Thank you," she said, testing the theory.

"Nick's been raving about you," Simon Clemons said. "I had to try you out for myself, especially after you shared your thoughts about me."

Jersey glanced over his shoulder at Nick, who looked away. Simon Clemons reached up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

"Give me a dance," he whispered in her ear. "You don't have to do anything fancy, but please bump and grind a bit."

He relaxed his grip and Jersey began grinding her thighs against his. She gave him her best smile as she pressed her breasts against his chest. Simon Clemons smiled back, though his expression offered no comfort.

Jersey could soon feel his erection and hoped she wouldn't have to remind him that intercourse was not going to happen with her.

"Very nice," Simon Clemons commended as she danced on his lap. "I'm glad we can still get along so well."

"What do you mean?" Jersey queried.

"I said something that shocked you. I saw it in your face right before you left. Something about your friend, right? Don't make me read your own words back to you."

"It's hard to get over a friend dying."

Jersey hoped this would satisfy him and she kept dancing. Simon Clemons's headshake extinguished that hope.

"People don't run to the police about such things," he said.

Jersey froze. Simon Clemons smiled and gestured at his unnamed friend at the bar.

"Brad's father is a big booster for the LVPD," he explained "He has plenty of friends with badges and hears all the gossip. Believe me, a stripper coming in and accusing the governor's son of murdering her stripper friend ... that kind of thing gets around. Of course, she then blabs on the Internet. That does not help anything."

He reached up and pinched Jersey's nipples.

"Ow!" she cried. "Don't do that."

People were allowed to touch her breasts during lap dances. They were not allowed to pinch her.

"I'm out of here," she said, rising from Simon Clemons's lap. She didn't need his money and she was sure he wasn't dumb enough to try and harm her with club security so close.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and then felt someone behind her. Before she could turn around, that someone grabbed her wrists and wrenched her arms behind her back.

"Let go!" Jersey cried.

Simon Clemons's grin was malicious now. Reaching between the cushions, he pulled out something she couldn't see and rose from the couch as well. Jersey was about to say something when he shoved the ball gag into her mouth. He then grabbed her hair and pulled until the adhesive she used gave up. Her brunette Whig came off. Paige cried out, but the gag muffled most of the noise.

"A blonde, huh?" Simon Clemons asked, stroking her long, honey-colored hair. "You do a good job hiding it."

He looked down at her crotch and legs.

"Ironic that your friend was a brunette," he continued, giving her wig a final glance before tossing it into a corner of the room. "She id like those hair colors."

He wrapped the ball gag's strap around Paige's head and buckled it. With that secure, he smelled her hair and then moved his face close to hers.

"Do you want to know if I killed her?" he asked. "I mean, you seem pretty sure already, but who doesn't love a confirmation, right?"

Paige thought about lying and indicating she didn't want to know. Maybe she'd have a shot at getting away. But that seemed unlikely. She was firmly held and, looking at Nick at the bar, realized Brad was her captor and the young man with a crush wouldn't be her savior. He was looking down, avoiding her gaze.

"I did kill her," Simon Clemons said, touching Paige's cheek. "We were having a good time until she got pregnant. She said the kid was mine and demanded money ... lots of money. She wanted to be set up for life. Either that or she'd start talking to reporters. So, I shut her up. She probably wouldn't have been a good mom anyway. I mean, using your unborn kid as blackmail ... what kind of person does that?"

Paige kicked out at him, but Simon Clemons easily dodged this.

"Easy," he said. "I mean, I like your fight, but it can cause problems for you. You're going to have to die. It's up to you whether you go easy or hard. Here's a tip ... your friend decided to go hard."

Paige flashed back to the sight of Britney's mutilated body. Then, there was a knock on the door.

"See who that is," Simon Clemons barked at Nick, who rose without a word. He opened the door a bit to look out and then opened it wider to reveal Kurtis.

"Everything okay in here?" the bouncer asked, looking at Paige.

"Yeah," Simon Clemons said. He paused and then grinned.

"You know what?" he said. "We could use another set of hands. We've got time. I say we each take a turn in her before getting her into the van."

Kurtis shook his head.

"That wasn't the deal," he protested. "I'm an information broker, nothing more."

Paige remembered Kurtis had been the bouncer on duty at the employee exit the night Britney was killed. He was probably a lookout and alerted Simon Clemons if anyone besides Britney left the club. Most of the dancers and other staff parked in that garage. With Kurtis's help, Simon Clemons was able to escape before Paige got there. Kurtis probably requested the assignment to watch the suite tonight, when Simon Clemons came back to eliminate a potential witness. There was that private entrance.

"I'm changing the deal," Simon Clemons snarled at the bouncer. "Get in here and shut that door."

Without a word, Kurtis obeyed. At Simon Clemons's instruction, he replaced Brad and took hold of Paige's wrists.

"Get her down on the floor," Simon Clemons directed. "We don't have that much time."

Paige rived and kicked, but it was no use. Brad and Kurtis got her down on her back, where she continued wriggling without effect.

"Get her legs," Simon Clemons continued, very much in charge of this assault and kidnapping. "Spread them wide. And, try to keep those sandals on her feet. They look absolutely divine."

Avoiding a painful impact with her flailing limbs, Brad and Nick got hold of her ankles and pinned them down. Nick refused to look at her while Brad seemed indifferent to the imminent gang rape.

Simon Clemons stepped between Paige's legs and crawled over her. Paige kept wriggling.

"Keep fighting," Simon Clemons said as if it didn't matter to him. "It'll be more satisfying for me."

He squeezed her breasts and then her pubic mound. Then, he slid a finger inside her. Paige gasped, her mind flashing back to the last customer who tried to do that. He was now sitting in a cell. Would Simon Clemons go to prison as well? Would she live to report him?

"Tighter than I thought," Simon Clemons remarked, his finger probing inside her. "She'll be fun."

He looked at his lackeys.

"I go first," he said as though this weren't obvious. "Then Nick because he likes her so much, and then Brad. Kurt, you want a go?"

"No," Kurtis replied in a gruff voice.

Sensing weakness in his resolve, Paige tried to look at him. She wanted to meet his eye and maybe appeal to his remaining decency to stop this. He did not look at her.

"After we're done with you," Simon Clemons said, "we'll take a trip out to Henderson. Doesn't take much brainpower to know you talked to her. I always keep track of my conquests and I never appreciated her accusing me of rape. Maybe we'll leave your grave open until we can toss her in as well. Either way, they'll never find you both. This state's got a lot of desert."

Knowing she had seconds left, Paige fought as hard as she could, screaming through the gag. That all came to an end when Simon Clemons slapped her.

"I like a fighter," he said, "but there is such a thing as pushing it. Watch yourself."

He reached down and undid his belt. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

"Your friend did like me," he said. "Now, I'm going to show you why."

Desperate, Paige fought again.

"Jesus," Brad muttered, working to keep his grip on her leg.

Nick then lost his grip. Thinking quickly, Paige got her free leg between Simon Clemons's limbs as he began pushing down his kahkis and boxers. She thrust her knee up as hard as she could, not stopping as she felt resistance and heard a tearing sound, followed by a mix of a dull thud and a squelch.

By contrast, Simon Clemons's scream was animalistic. He tumbled backwards, his hands flying to his groin. He landed in front of the couch, groaning.

The others were so startled that Paige was able to wrench her other leg and arms free. She scrambled to her feet, feeling pain and seeing blood on her leg.

"Get ... her," Simon Clemons said through gritted teeth. He was in a lot of pain and Paige could see blood pooling between his outstretched legs, staining his torn kahkis.

Hearing a whining noise behind her, she whirled around to see Kurtis aiming a taser at her. She moved right before he fired, her leg screaming, and the darts hit Brad. The young man fell with a thud, riving uncontrollably for several seconds. Nick couldn't move or speak and Simon Clemons just groaned.

The seconds Kurtis needed to recharge his taser seemed to take an eternity. As he took aim again, Paige looked around to see where she could go.

Just then, the door opened and Matt entered. Seeing the scene, he charged Kurtis, tackling him just as the other man pulled the trigger. His shot went wide and these darts hit the wall.

Both bouncers hit the ground. The taser slipped out of Kurtis's hand. It slid across the floor. Paige sprang forward, despite the pain in her leg, and grabbed it. Meanwhile, Matt got back to his feet and kicked his colleague twice for good measure. Kurtis moaned but didn't move again.

Having no idea how the taser worked, Paige aimed it at Nick, who was still frozen in place.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Matt advised, coming over to Paige. "She'll use that thing. I'm sure of it."

He looked at Paige.

"You okay?" he asked.

Recognizing he was perhaps on her side, Paige nodded.

"Hold still," Matt said. He reached into her mouth and pulled the ball gag out. He then unbuckled the strap around her head.

"Give me that before you hurt the wrong person," he said, gesturing at the taser she was still pointing at Nick.

Paige froze. She wasn't ready to relinquish it yet.

"How did you know to come here?" she asked. Bouncers didn't regularly wander around. They all had assigned duties and posts.

"I'd just escorted a rowdy drunk out of here," Matt explained, his tone indicating patience. "I was coming back into the main room and I noticed Kurtis wasn't at his post. I figured he'd gone back here to deal with a customer. I came to see if he needed help. Didn't think I'd walk in on this."

He looked around at the still-prone Kurtis, the semi-conscious Brad, and the groaning Simon Clemons.

Paige nodded and handed him the taser. Matt really was on her side. No wonder he was her favorite bouncer.

"Police first," Matt said, reaching for the cell phone on his belt. "Then, I'll get management down here."

Paige nodded. The pain in her leg finally too much to bear, she sank onto the couch and began to cry.

* * *

Four ambulances left the Topaz Gentlemen's Lounge that night, by far a record for the establishment. Before, paramedics had only been summoned once in the past decade for a dancer who'd fallen off the stage.

At Matt's behest, Simon Clemons, Kurtis, and Brad were surrounded by police officers by the time the medical convoy arrived at Mountain View Hospital. Two more officers were assigned to protect Paige when she arrived. Uninjured, Nick was taken to the nearest police station. His injuries being minor, Kurtis was soon discharged by an emergency room doctor and taken there as well.

Paige was given a private room to be examined and recuperate. Her police escort stood guard at the door.

She learned her aim during the fight had been good, her knee colliding with Simon Clemons's scrotum while tearing his khakis. His zipper had been in the way and that caused further damage while also biting into her skin and damaging the ligament around her knee. She was given a cane and a regiment of physical therapy she'd have to complete upon her discharge.

While HIPPA rules prevented any confirmations, rumors soon flew through the hospital, speculating that Simon Clemons would lose one or both testicles. After a Clark County Assistant District Attorney arrived and began collecting statements, the topic of these rumors turned to the possibility of him ending up on Death Row. Governor Clemons's assets were more political than financial.

It turned out Nick began confessing not long after arriving at the police station. He and Brad helped Simon Clemons ambush Britney in the parking garage after he'd lured her out of the club with a text indicating concession to her terms. They then served as lookouts while he raped, tortured, and sodomized Britney in the backseat of her sedan. Brad stabbed the garage attendant to death when the man came to investigate the sounds of the struggle. Though he too had a knife and used it that night, Simon Clemons instead strangled his extortionist to death when he got bored of making her suffer for blackmailing him.

As the sun rose, the story was on every news channel. The Clark County Sheriff and District Attorney held a joint press conference in time for morning commuters to hear on the radio. Both said little and promised a thorough investigation and swift justice. Governor Roofus Clemons's office offered no comment and some political rivals were already speculating his son's actions might be a new avenue towards his own downfall.
Though she gave a statement to an officer as well as the eager Assistant District Attorney, Paige still had to speak with Detectives Baxter and Connors. They arrived in her hospital room around 10:00. Detective Connors looked worried and Paige gave him a grateful smile. Detective Baxter looked annoyed, tired, and/or constipated. He'd probably retire after this case.

"Can you tell us what happened tonight?" he requested in a neutral tone. "Start from the beginning."

It took over an hour and a half for Paige to again recount the entire series of events which occurred in the private suite of the Topaz Gentlemen's Lounge. To his credit, Detective Baxter took as many notes as his partner and didn't try to argue against anything she said. By the end, both men's pads seemed to be full.

"You might want to lay low for a while," Detective Baxter advised in the same neutral tone when Paige finished. "Governor Clemons may have plenty of enemies, but he's also got plenty of friends. It's only a matter of time before your name gets dragged into the spotlight with this thing."

Detective Connors nodded in agreement

Paige only nodded back at them. She was probably done with the Topaz Gentlemen's Lounge anyway. For one thing, no one wanted to see a woman taking off her clothes while supporting herself on a cane, even if that was a temporary accessory.

But, more importantly, she didn't see it the same way anymore. She'd felt safe stripping because the club kept its customers from going too far. Now, one of its bouncers had tried to aide in her imminent rape and planned murder. Yes, Paige held her own against her assailants and Matt had come to help, but the trust was still broken.

Paige figured it was time to move on from disrobing for profit and focus on her journalism career. She had money saved, so she could go a couple of months without a job. It was time to put Jersey away, though this would require one final blog post. She deserved a proper "farewell."

She'd apply everywhere, looking for a fresh start in a place where people hadn't had a chance to ogle her. It wasn't like non-club patrons ever saw her face. She'd take a job she would wholly enjoy. And, she would find someone whom she could fully reveal herself to when she wanted to.

It would all take time, but Paige was ready for the journey. Pushing a few stray strands of her honey-colored hair out of her face, she turned her head and stared out the window at the available slither of Vegas skyline.