“The boys have more creative words for ‘penis,’ ” Andrea counters. I arch a brow at Ming, who rolls her eyes. “And Jane is a gentleman.”

“Plus, he dots his i’s with little circles,” I add brightly, hoping to defuse the tension. “He does it on our rent checks. It’s charming.”

Before Andrea’s eyes can properly beseech the ceiling for deliverance, a gasp sounds from the supply closet across from us. The door swings open to reveal Jane, who’s the picture of refinement in his vest and trousers, the pale gray wool a striking contrast with his dark skin. The little closet is where he warms up his voice; I didn’t expect him to hear me.

Jane sags against the door frame, hand smoothing the Bic-close shave of his head as he sighs with dreamy affectation. “Kitten Caboodle, do you really think so?”

“You know I love your i’s, darling.” I blow him a kiss. He mimes catching it, clutching it to his heart, then tugs the door shut with a dramatic swoon.

His performance breaks us. The Twins collapse forward in their respective bends, giggling madly. Ming releases her wicked, machine-gun cackle that reduces me to snorts of laughter. Even Jane’s muffled chuckle comes from the closet.

“I’m sorry, Andrea.” I dab below my eyes to check that my makeup hasn’t run. “It was my fault. I used the pad as a writing surface when I did tonight’s reservation notes and a page must have fallen out.”

Andrea’s hands go to her broad hips. “Well, be careful. Our guests are here for a specific brand of titillation, not potty language.” She peers at the offending page. “For heaven’s sake, Ming, get a damn thesaurus.”

We dissolve into laughter again, Ming’s roar setting the beads of her shimmy belt rattling against the metal folding chair.

Andrea finally smirks. “Whatever am I going to do with you all?” She points at me. “You’re supposed to be the reliable one.”

“Hey, I just pick up panties,” I say, palms up in innocence.

She rolls her eyes. At a burlesque show, the responsibilities of the stage kitten can generally be reduced to pick up what the others take off. In my two years here, my role has evolved to take on duties Andrea prefers not to do herself, talent wrangling included. But there’s only so much I can do about Ming’s base level of smut.

Andrea nods at the notes I hold. “There haven’t been any reservation changes, so what you have is current. Girls, have a great show.” Her smile drops. “This one counts.”

I open my mouth to ask what she means by that, but she shakes her head, patting me on the shoulder.

“Pop a pastie, luvs!” she calls, turning down the hallway.

“Pop a pastie,” we chorus, the others already back to their stretches and makeup.