“Follow me please,” he said.
“We actually have an appointment to meet the owner of the club, Jim Jefferson,” I said.
“I am Jim Jefferson. Follow me to my office please,” he said.
So the scarred man wasn’t a bouncer, he was actually the owner. We watched him disappear ahead of us in long strides through the bar, as if he was trying to get away from us as quickly as possible. We had to walk briskly just to keep up with him. A few men “accidently” touched Cassandra’s breasts and ass as we squeezed by in the middle of the thick crowd. As we walked down a corridor to the back of the club, I glanced to the side through a glass wall. There were two rooms that were set up with rows of theater seating and a small raised platform stage. Something interesting was happening in the rooms but we didn
