"Wait," said Hugh, one hand on his coat. "Was that a joke?"

"You were an instructive example," Peter explained.

"Fuck."

Tawny shook her head, tousled blond curls fluttering. "I can't do that."

"Oh my God." I resisted rubbing my eyes, lest I muss the makeup. "Tawny, this isn't rocket science."

"Weren't you telling us how hard it was to do your job, back when your incubus buddy was around?" asked Peter. My friend Bastien's recent visit had elicited a veritable cheerleading squad of admirers for him and what my male friends deemed "the hardest job ever."

"Shut up," I snapped. "You're ruining my mentoring."

"I don't want a bad one," Tawny said petulantly. "I want to corrupt a good one. One that'll give me lots of energy."

"Start small. Don't worry about the good ones when you probably can't even pick them out in the first place."

"How do you find one?"

"It's an art. One you'll learn. I'm telling you, though, just start small."

I did give her a few pointers, recalling my alleged role as mentor. We studied some of the men in the bar, spotting wedding rings and one bachelor party. A guy about to get married was a really nice hit. I also advised on demeanor, how a quiet man was often (but certainly not always) a better bet than a loud, obnoxious one—if you were going for good ones. Of course, serial killers tended to be quiet too. Really, it came down to reading people, which wasn't a skill she could learn overnight. Keeping this in mind, I tried to reiterate how she should just try easy fixes for now.

"I really like how you've got the entire male population pegged," said Peter when I'd finished lecturing. "I'm glad you don't believe in stereotyping or anything."

I shrugged. "I've been doing this for a while."

"Okay, prove it," said Hugh. He and I were at about equal levels of intoxication now. "Find three decent souls in here."

I grinned. Imps could gauge the strength and goodness of a person's soul with a glance. Accepting the challenge, I scanned for a long time. When I picked my three, he shook his head.

"You got two out of three. The two that are right are really good. The one you got wrong is pretty bad. At least you're dealing in extremes."

Tawny moaned. "You see? This is hard."

"For Christ's sake," I exclaimed, finishing another gimlet. "It's not. Not in the rookie leagues you're playing in. Look, you want a tip? Go get a job that gives you easy access."

"I am not going to go stand on a corner," she said huffily.

"Then go…I don't know. Go to Hugh's date auction." The imp glared at me. "Or go work at a strip club. It's about the easiest thing a succubus can do. Hang out at the bar after your number, and they'll come to you. A stripper's a hot commodity, particularly when a lot of those guys'll think you're a prostitute anyway."

"I don't know. It still sounds degrading."

"You're going to be fucking to sustain your existence for the rest of eternity! Get off your high horse. You wait much longer, and your first-one's-free energy stash will dry up. Stripping's easy. And fun. And you get to wear pretty costumes. Trust me, it's a good racket."

"I guess," she said at last. She exhaled heavily, the motion pushing her breasts out even further than usual.

"Georgina's a pro," said Hugh, reaching over to give her a comforting pat. Considering he really wasn't a warm and fuzzy kind of guy, I suspected he just wanted to brush her breasts. "Or so I hear. I guess I'll never find out." He gave me a bitter glance.

"If that's true," Tawny said, "then how come her own boyfriend blew her off?"

The guys let out a collective "ooh" and glanced eagerly between the two of us, apparently in anticipation of the catfight they'd long predicted. All of my earlier fury resurfaced, fueled now by alcohol and Tawny's incompetence.

Grabbing my glass, I strode up to the bar to get a refill in person. Hanging out with my friends was rapidly losing its charm. A newbie succubus didn't have any right to mock me about my dating difficulties, particularly when she couldn't land one guy. I could have landed a dozen if I'd wanted to tonight. At the same time.

And, glancing over beside me, I realized I might very well have an easy score right here.

The guy from the bookstore, the one with the fetish books, stood at the bar, talking to the bartender. He didn't appear to be with a group. Hastily, I turned away so he wouldn't recognize me. After I got my drink, I set it on my friends' table and retreated to the bathroom without another word to them. I'd had to use bathrooms as shape-shifting hideouts for years, but there was nothing to be done for it in these situations. Inside a stall, I changed into a long, graceful body with flowing gold hair—not unlike some of the ballerinas I'd seen tonight. I'd show Tawny how to do blond right.

Walking back out, I caught Cody's eye. My friends could recognize me in any shape, of course, and he gave me a puzzled look as I strode back to the bar. Standing beside the guy from the bookstore again, I ordered another drink. This time, he turned and caught sight of me. I smiled.

"That any good?" I asked, nodding to the red concoction he was drinking.

"I guess." He lifted up the glass and peered at it. "It's a pomegranate cosmo. I think. Kind of girly, honestly—no offense."

"None taken."

The bartender slid my whiskey on the rocks to me. The guy beside me laughed.

"I suddenly feel emasculated," he said.

I grinned and extended my hand, speaking the first name that came to mind. "I'm Clara."

"Jude."

"Hey, Jude."

He sighed.

"Sorry," I said. "Couldn't resist."

"You and everyone else."

"You here alone?" I asked.

He looked embarrassed and absentmindedly rubbed the empty finger his wedding ring had been on the last time I saw him. "Yeah."

"Me too."

He looked me over, attempting covertness and not doing a good job. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well…" I looked down at my drink, playing with its edge. "It's kind of a long story…"

And slowly, skillfully, I crafted a tale about how I'd come here to meet a guy and how he'd stood me up. He was supposed to go to a sex club with me, though I didn't come right out and say that immediately. That would have been too much for someone like Jude, someone who was intrigued but still nervous about the whole idea of exotic sexuality. So, I spoke vaguely at first, using innuendoes, hinting at my own interest in exhibitionism, how I just wanted to go see what a place like that was all about.

As I concluded, I used the same line he'd used in the bookstore. "I feel like such a pervert. Honestly…I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't even know you. It's just…" I looked up at him with big blue eyes. "You're easy to talk to."

A long silence followed as Jude held my gaze. "I don't think…I don't think there's anything wrong with what you're saying…what you want…"

Snick! I started reeling in the line.

"Really?"

"Yeah…I mean, sometimes…I've kind of…you know, wanted…"

"Really?"

He nodded.

I allowed a five-second hesitation. "You want to go with me? Just to, you know, watch?"

After a bit of rumination, Jude agreed. Unsurprisingly, he didn't know where any sex clubs were in the city. Also unsurprisingly, I did.

I didn't even look back at my friends as Jude and I left the bar. I hadn't clocked it or anything, but I was pretty sure my solicitation had been accomplished in record time. That'd teach the gang to question my pro status.

The club we went to was one I'd visited a number of times before. I'd been to better ones in my day, but I liked this one simply because of its name: Insolence.

Establishments that catered to sex and fetishism all operated in different ways. In places where everyone expected to participate—like swingers' clubs—admission was strictly regulated. Single girls always got into places like that, and couples usually only had a few requirements. Single guys had a harder time. In a place like Insolence that was focused primarily on watching, admission was more lax. We simply had to pay our cover, and we were in. Mine was still cheaper, though.