Risqué

You can do this.

You can do this.

This is the oldest you've ever been,

and you'll never be this young again.

You're going on in one minute.

Better shake your ass, girl.

Welcome to Risqué!

Feeling Swollen?

Remember, Tuesday's two-for-one

complimentary lap dances.

Hey, baby.

- Hey there, Jess. - Hey, Pete.

Another day another dollar, right? -You know it, hon.

Welcoming to the stage, Risqué's queen bee,

Jessica.

Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?

- Hey, you got my beers? - Hey! Yeah, of course.

So, how is?

Still looking fucking sexy, Jess.

Still?

Really? Fuck off, Billy.

I'm just sayin', for an O.G. veteran like yourself,

you're still hot as shit.

It's a compliment.

Gotta take it as such.

If your Uncle didn't own this joint

and kept you employed out of some sad sense of pity,

God knows what freeway overpass you'd be living under.

Okay, nasty. Very nasty.

But? I'm a key piece of my Uncle's vast operation.

You always misjudge me, Jess.

One day you'll eat every one of those words.

Highly doubtful.

Okay, well, I'm a mover and shaker, baby! And?

You're gonna regret not fucking me when you had the chance.

Now, you've made me nauseous.

Hey, girl, you're late. Karl was on the prowl for you.

Fuck him.

Just had to stomach another delusional rant

from Big Boy Billy.

What a fucking loser.

He's a crazy pig.

My God, you did not.

Those shoes, girl.

I can't believe you bought 'em.

I'll go get our drinks, sweetie.

I did.

And I love 'em. Do you love 'em? You gotta love 'em.

Yeah, I love 'em. How much?

- You don't want to know. - I gotta know.

Three hundred.

Six hundred? And 50 plus tax.

Okay. You know how we hate

that whole "irresponsible stripper" stereotype?

Yeah.

You are not really helping to dispel it.

Dispel it. I don't know what that means.

But I'm wearin' Louboutins, chica!

- You know what I was thinking? - What?

We need to calculate your birth path number.

I thought we did that last time.

No, you cunt.

That was your name number.

It's totally different.

Now, we need to add the digits of your birth date

and then keep reducing until we reach a final number

which will be your birth number. -Sounds confusing.

Well, yeah, it is.

Unless you're trained? And I'm trained.

So, it's easy.

All right, let's start with your birthday.

Well, it's?

Shelby, what the fuck?!

No.

Move Your Ass!

"Eyes Wide Shut" in two minute!

- Already? Shit! - Let's go.

I don't know how you understand what the hell she's said.

Yeah, it's a gift.

BRB.

What?

Be right back.

Clever girl.

God, you're such a geezer.

And what century are you living in, mate?

Missing you already.

Laters.

I see Roger's back.

Yeah, I think he's hot.

No, you don't.

You think his money is hot.

I don't know. I've grown fond of the silver fox.

What can I say? He is good to me.

I told you it's a mistake to date clients.

And the rumor is he's still married.

And isn't his wife's family

like super connected?

Just buzz. Don't mean it is true.

Like mafia connected.

Remember Godfather?

James Caan protecting his sister.

Stay away from that guy

or have bullet in brains.

I keep telling her, but she not listens.

Guy, brain, listen. There's no "s", babe.

In brain.

Up ass.

What I give fucks.

All spell dead.

I actually understood some of that.

Danke!

Learn that from Bianka.

- Who? - One of the new girls, Bianka.

I think she's German.

I think Hungarian.

Heard she killed two guys outside of a biker bar in Berlin.

Slit their throat,

ear to ear.

I hear four.

Well, rumor or not, that chick

is clearly one badass bitch.

Just in here.

Jess?

This is Jeanie.

Take her under your wing.

Enlighten her with your many years of?

Stripper wisdom.

Pig.

- Jeanie? - Yeah, like Jeanie in a bottle.

I make men's wishes come true.

Never say that again.

Okay.

Stay on my heels and take notes. Okay?

Yes, ma'am.

And don't ever call me ma'am.

- Okay. - Never.

- Okay. - Okay.

All right, you horny bastards?

Kubrick himself called it scintillating.

Give it up for Risqué's

exclusive extravaganza.

Eyes Wide Shut.

Hey, new guy.

Where you from again?

Small town down south, you probably wouldn't know it.

- Hey, Jeanie? - I... I moved around.

Where you been, girl?

All righty.

Hey, sweetie.

I'm Big Boy Billy.

My uncle started Club Risqué

and I'm head of security.

I'm also vice president of the organization.

I thought Karl owned the place.

No, he's just a manager.

He does like day to day,

but Karl told me you are one sexy little Jeanie.

You heard right, Big Boy Billy.

Can I... Can I tell you what I dream of Jeanie?

Yes, you can.

Billy's a creep looking to fuck anything that walks through here.

Said he was a V.P.

Yeah, sure.

He sits in his little security there,

jacking off and pretending he's the reincarnation

of Hugh fucking Hefner.

First word of advice,

please take this to heart.

- Steer clear. - Thank you.

Jess, right?

Yeah.

Or Jessica.

Just not Jessie.

I hate Jessie.

Hi, I'm Jeanie.

You want to come joining me and Shelby in Champagne room?

Couple of coked up high rollers.

Could be a few good C notes each.

I like C notes.

Who doesn't, Jessie?

She's so friendly.

Rumor is she killed six guys

outside some biker bar in Berlin.

Well, now, shake those tits.

Shake it for Tommy and he'll make it rain.

You want the rain, don't you, baby?

Sure, sweetie.

Make it rain.

No touching, remember?

Don't get all spikey with me, baby. Loosen up.

Spikey. I like that.

But this ain't a whore house, remember?

Could have fooled me.

Oi!

Get off her, you asshole.

That asshole's probably gonna sue.

- Not probably, will. - My uncle will not be happy.

Shut the fuck up, Billy.

What happened to the eye in the sky?

- Where the fuck were you? - I'll deal with Billy later.