He nodded and told me I was one of the most gorgeous women he had seen. It wasn’t a particularly original compliment, but I never got tired of hearing that I looked good. It had carried on like that for a little while, with him giving me compliments that made me hope he would ask for a private dance, or at least leave a big tip. I smiled and flirted, leaned over his table to make my cleavage look its best, and hinted several times about moving somewhere more private, but despite my best efforts, he didn’t spend a single dollar. Eventually, I tried to move on to someone with a more generous wallet, and it was when I straightened up that his attitude shifted. His hand closed around my wrist and stopped me from leaving as he said the dreaded words:
