Betrayed Chapter 4

I really wasn't surprised when Dianna directed me into the parking lot at Ringers. It was only a few blocks across town from my new home; a five-minute drive, if the traffic wasn't killing at the time. Consciously, it had not been a factor in my decision to take the new place. Sub-consciously... well, who knows?

"Pop the trunk," she instructed as I shifted into Park.

I complied. She didn't wait for me to get her door. She slid out, stepped to the rear of the car, fished her Capezio bag out of the trunk, then closed the lid with a precise click. I guessed she had had experience with precision-engineered automobiles before. Most people would have slammed the trunk lid; so necessary with American cars. It occurred to me Dianna was the type of girl who attracted a more affluent clientele. She had said she had had her pick of a large number of 'Sugar Daddies' – and turned them all down. I felt blessed.

She shouldered the bag and took my arm in hers.

"Let's go, Sweetie," she chirped brightly.

"Where to?" I responded coyly.

"Your future awaits," she replied, "but we mustn't keep it waiting another minute."

We strolled down the sidewalk, my arm linked through hers, past the usual long line for the second show. The doorman recognized her immediately, greeted her, and waved us through, much to the muttered annoyance of the lost souls waiting in line. They were not amused that the "rich bitch and her husband" were given preferential treatment. "Talent coming through," was all the hired muscle said to placate the throng, who were anything but as we were admitted. We picked our way from the door to the other end of the room, stopping frequently to greet this bartender, that performer, or another 'working girl' or 'date'. Everyone knew Dianna by name – another source of pride on my part, mixed with a touch of awe.

She guided me directly into the performer's dressing room without so much as a knock on the door.