Hi, my name is Smokey. Well, that's what you can call me. Truth is I'm using a pen name because I'm a little worried about the fallout from this book.

I mean, I did work up and close and personal with these guys for a few years. For some reason, they really took a liking to me. They stopped being so guarded around me.

They didn't share everything with me, but I did bring them drinks when they were “behind closed doors.”

Scary stuff, I promise.

So how did I get to work in a place that doesn't take applications?

First, you should know I grew up in Vegas and my mom was a bit of a slot junkie. I spent countless hours in the arcades in Vegas and took naps in the hotel lobbies.

I guess I was just destined to be a Vegas cocktail waitress. Blond. Cute. With a tight twenty-one year old body, the hospitality managers at the hotels couldn't snatch me up quickly enough. The costumes sucked. High heels that hurt my feet and costumes as uncomfortable as they were ugly.

Plus all the kids. I'd never really noticed before, but there were kids everywhere in the casinos. When one seven year old boy laughed and said he could see my butt, I knew I had to go.

Where could I serve drinks, make tons of cash, and not have to worry about kids staring at me?

You guessed it, at a gentlemen's club.

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