“Good, good. So where do we meet?” he asked, leaning forward with eagerness.

“Huh? Meet?” I blinked, confused.

“Yes,” he said confidently, his lips curving like he already knew the answer.

“Sir, I’m taking the job of a stripper,” I snapped, sharper than I meant.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked, his brows lifting in disbelief.

“Why should I?” I spat back, folding my arms tight.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie as if to recompose himself. “Your work begins ...