Hidden Helium

Chapter One

“You’re fired!”

Gretchen Bjornson heard those dreaded words from her now ex-boss. But losing her job in this recessed economy didn’t surprise her. When the stock market tanked, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to calculate that all the brokerage houses on Wall Street were screwed, and not in a good way. It surprised her that the layoff hadn’t happened sooner, and she mentally patted herself on the back for holding her head up high while figuratively, “Taking it on the chin.”

She exited the office building on Wall Street with her crappy severance package in hand. Staring at the sky where the Twin Towers stood just two years ago, she felt the sun warm her face. Is this what daylight feels like during the work week? Unsure what to do with herself, she stepped into the nearest bar.

“What can I get you, Gretchen?” the bartender, Connor, asked.

“Chilled Patrón with a Corona Light back.” She sat on a stool and appreciated the lack of questions. When she glanced over at the long line of bar stools, she noticed lots of “suits” occupying the bar, all with a drink in front of them.

The bartender poured the clear goodness without judgment. An abundance of Wall Streeters found themselves without a job these days, but a depressed economy and record unemployment equated to thriving business for bar owners.

Gretchen savored the shot and declined another round. She exited the bar without speaking to anyone. Day drinkers craved solitude. Lightheaded, she walked the streets of Manhattan. A liquid lunch proved a new experience for her.

She took advantage of her newly found free time to experience new things. That’s probably why she found herself walking into a strip club named the Silver Pole. The “auditioning dancers” sign in the front window drew her in like a mosquito to a bug zapper.

“Nice, the naughty librarian look. Let’s see what you got,” the manager of the Silver Pole said.

“Can you play ‘Ten Seconds To Love’ by Mötley Crüe?” Gretchen licked her lips and arched her back. The job interview commenced.

“Dirty girl, you’ll make a fortune here.” He drooled.

Gretchen really felt like dancing, and her buzz blocked any hesitation about taking her top off. She stepped up onto the stage and removed the pins which held her long blonde hair in a chignon. She tousled her hair to frame her perfect ivory complexion and slowly sashayed her hips from side-to-side.

Grabbing the silver pole, she thought the name ironic because manufacturers typically forged stripper poles from either brass or aluminum. She twirled her petite and slender frame around the pole and kicked her leg up over her head to provide a nice view of her thong.

The music took her away as she closed her eyes and gyrated her hips. She unbuttoned her blouse and revealed her voluptuous breasts spilling out over her Victoria Secret black-lace bra. She shimmied out of her skirt as she bent over, giving her future employer a fantastic view of her toned ass.

She circled back to the pole and twirled herself around without stumbling in her three-inch stilettos. It amused her to think that the same power suit appropriate for a Wall Street Stockbroker doubled as a great costume for a stripper.

Going down on her knees, she tried not to think of all the germs on the stage floor. She approached the manager sitting in the front row, also known as pervert row. Desperate for this job to pay her exorbitant rent in Manhattan, she licked her lips. Her bright blue eyes bored into his as she removed her bra. The look in his eyes resembled that of a kid in a candy store.

Too easy.

Gretchen grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face between her naked breasts. She pushed her puppies together and nearly smothered the guy.

“You’re hired. Come back at four, the joint picks up as soon as the stock market closes.” He stood and grabbed his crotch to adjust his positive reaction to the Silver Pole’s newest dancer.

Gretchen put her clothes back on and smiled at her good fortune. She found a new job within an hour of losing her old one. And this one didn’t require her to think beyond which pair of shoes to wear.