CHAPTER 28: CHAPTER 28: FIFTH MISTRESS

This matter is confidential, not many people know about it.

Now that Jean Ellison has taken Vic with her, she dares not imagine what could happen.

"Call the police, what are you standing there for?"

Leah Sutton had no mind for imagination; she wanted results, but not at the cost of her people risking their lives.

At the same time.

Jean Ellison and Vic were staking out at the entrance of the club. They actually saw a major figure enter, a certain political official.

"Vic, let’s split up; you keep lookout, I’ll follow him."

"No way, the people accompanying him are all men, I’ll do the following."

"Are you going to write the article when we get back?" Jean Ellison retorted.

Vic had no choice but to take off the watch on his wrist and hand it to her. Inside the watch face was a miniature camera.

"Stay in touch."

He grabbed a nearby DSLR camera and stuffed it into his bag, splitting up with Jean Ellison.

They entered one after the other, pretending not to know each other.

In the first-floor lobby, the music was booming, the floor vibrating, and multicolored neon lights flashing, making it hard to keep one’s eyes open.

"Miss Ellison, it looks like the second floor has been reserved."

Jean Ellison stood out in the crowd, dressed conservatively, moving stiffly, with Vic’s voice in her earpiece.

She was remarkably beautiful, pure and naturally so, drawing attention as soon as she entered. The ill-intentioned stares around her made her uncomfortable.

"I have an idea."

She saw a waiter with drinks coming down from upstairs, quickly followed, and went with him into the dressing room.

"I’m exhausted, the boss upstairs is really hard to please."

"You don’t say, I heard from Ruby that they’ve changed several batches of girls."

"I’m a bit tired, going to take a nap, call me if anything happens."

"Leave the drinks here; whoever’s free later can help take them up."

The dressing room wasn’t big; a few waitresses were chatting.

One of them saw Jean Ellison, assuming she was new.

"Hey, did Ruby send you? Get to work, stop slacking."

Jean Ellison nodded repeatedly, picked up a uniform from the hanger, and went into the cubicle to change.

She changed clothes and looked at herself in the mirror. The uniform wasn’t supposed to be so revealing on others, so why did it look so provocative on her?

Back when she was with Justin Holden, he’d given her some lingerie. She’d put it on, closed her eyes, and lain down on the bed, not daring to look at herself, her face as red as it could be.

She’d lost a lot of weight, but her measurements in the chest and hips hadn’t changed, her slim waist not even as wide as an adult’s palm.

Her naturally endowed bosom strained against the waitress uniform, the buttons seemingly ready to pop at any moment. The back hem of the short skirt was shorter than the front, barely covering her rear.

With a knife to her neck, she had to go out, whether she wanted to or not, with people outside calling her to work.

She covered her chest with a hand and walked out of the cubicle.

The waitresses outside looked at her, stunned, eyes lighting up.

"Hey, newbie, take these drinks to the innermost private room on the second floor, the one with two bodyguards at the door."

If the boss was hard to please tonight, let her deal with it.

This woman’s figure was even better than the girls sent upstairs; surely it would please the boss.

Jean Ellison picked up the tray of drinks, holding seven or eight bottles on one tray, needing both hands to carry it.

She wore high heels of the same color scheme as the uniform, beige straps fastened around her smooth, fair calves.

Her calves were long, her whole legs even longer, the short skirt failing to cover her thighs. She kept looking back as she walked, worried about a wardrobe malfunction.

Who designed this skirt, so short and without safety shorts?

As she stepped out, another woman entered the dressing room, followed by an impatient female voice.

"Who saw my clothes? I just altered my uniform, haven’t worn it yet."

The shorter the skirt was altered, the better the drinks sold, as everyone in this line of work knew. Some even went pantsless, truly not wearing anything below.

Jean Ellison, in high heels, had just reached the second floor when the two bodyguards outside the private room noticed her, eyes lecherous.

"Hi, I, I..."

She was tongue-tied, hadn’t thought of what to say.

"Come in."

The bodyguard opened the door without waiting for her to finish.

With a face both pure and seductive, her figure was magnificent and full; such a worldly beauty, surely the boss would like her. They had no reason not to let her through.

She looked unfamiliar, like a newcomer.

Newcomers were good, maybe the boss would take a liking to her, and she could become the fifth mistress, just right to join the ranks with the third and fourth mistresses.

Jean Ellison entered with the drinks, and the laughter in the private room came to an abrupt halt.

The political figure was indeed here, sitting in the middle of the long sofa, with a girl on each arm.

The one on the left was pure and obedient, the one on the right sexy and flirtatious.

The man glanced at the door; how had he not noticed before that the club’s waitresses were so alluring?

The uniform was mostly black lace, only the front chest and rear parts in double layers, with flesh-colored fabric underneath. The rest was single-layered material.

Especially around the waist and back, black sheer fabric wrapped her, more enticing than being fully exposed.

The woman’s voluminous, raven-black hair fell over her shoulders, with fuzzy ears on her head, also black, even moving.

One of the men, looking like a nouveau riche, sat on the sofa with a beer belly, a large gold chain around his neck.

He took a swig of drink, hand touching his chin, eyes sticky, glued to Jean Ellison.

"Hey, where did Ruby find this little vixen and send her to us?"

"With such a beauty, you should’ve presented her earlier, don’t belittle us bros."

"Come here swiftly, put down the drinks, your drinks, I’ll cover them all."

Jean Ellison approached the table, bent down to set the drinks, silently pressing the miniature camera on her watch, a red dot appearing on the watch face.

She hadn’t yet straightened up before someone grabbed her arm, pulling her to tumble onto the sofa.

The old man beside her, the political figure himself, about to retire, looked about sixty, with half-grey hair, slender build, dark circles under eyes suggesting overindulgence.

This person was recently in charge of urban land development, holding a bidding project.

"How old are you this year?"

"Eighteen, just turned last month."

Jean Ellison remembered, everyone in this line claimed to be eighteen or nineteen; it was standard patter.

The old man’s eyes lit up, his lecherous gaze roaming up and down her body, Adam’s apple bobbing intensely.

Reaching out, he grabbed her arm, leaning forward towards her.

"Great, just turned adult, that’s great."

"All my family members are old; even my youngest wife, the fourth, is already twenty-five, with three kids."

Jean Ellison was uneasy, carefully lowering her wrist, adjusting the camera towards his face.

She felt uncomfortable all over, shifting her position slightly to distance herself from him.

The old man reached out without hesitation, wrapping an arm around her waist, "Darling, meeting with me, it’s like you’re home. Any troubles, tell me, I’ll sort them out for you."

Her actions, to others, appeared as playing hard-to-get.