Chapter 11
When we met for the second time, Stormwinder’s respectability stood out in stark contrast to my barely veiled bloodling nature. He’d left me directions to a private gentleman’s club...and not the type my team mates liked to frequent, either, where the term “gentleman” was a euphemism for “guys who like to see n***d girls wriggling around on a pole.”
No, this club required a tie for entry, which the snooty maître d’ supplied in my case since I’d been forced to turn in my dress uniform along with the rest of my gear the day before. The shred of silk looked strange sitting two inches above the ratty collar of my faded t-shirt, but who was I to complain? I was used to the stipulation of donning an entirely unnecessary human uniform.
Stormwinder required no such fashion assistance
