For any other job, I would look insane. Sliding a glance down the row of dancers, I feel like I fit in just fine.
“Candi, Baby, Daisy,” the man sitting next door the door reads off. “You’re up next, ladies.”
The dancer to my left gets up just as Mia struts in the room. She sees me and comes over, her caramel-colored body glistening with baby oil and glitter. She clutches the top to her red bikini in one hand, tossing it on the desk as she throws herself into the chair beside me.
“Fucking cheap assholes,” she says, sounding perky even though she’s complaining.
She produces a neat wad of cash from the red triangle of fabric between her legs, shaking her head. She starts counting the cash as she glances at me. “I got a bunch of frat boys. They’ve obviously never been to a spot this nice and they didn’t behave themselves. And to top it all off? They hardly tipped anything, even when I took them back to the private rooms. It was basically a huge waste of my time.”
I scrunch up my face. “I hope you told security to kick them out.”
She chuckles. “You’re damn right I did.”
I glance at her outfit, noticing a snag in her fishnets. I perk up. “You can fix that,” I say, pointing it out to her. “A little hairspray and some clear nail polish will do the trick.”
Mia flashes me a puzzled glance. “Girl, I do not have time to be fixing a pair of tights. The men like to rip them, I throw them away and buy new ones. It’s the circle of life.”
A tall, dark skinned dancer in a black babydoll dress stands up. “Anybody got some baby wipes? I ran out.”
Mia glances over at her, then looks back at me, rolling her eyes. She leans closer to me. “No way am I giving that bitch anything. We double teamed a bachelor party together last week and I think she stole from me.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
Mia nods, wrinkling her nose. “Yep. I have no time or energy for these hoes. I’m busy working it, trying to find a patron.”
I pause. “A patron?”
She looks at me with a sigh. “Yes. A patron. Someone that will pay for my services. Someone with a fat wallet that will take me out of here.”
I bite my lip. “Pay for you to strip privately, you mean?”
She huffs out a laugh. “No, honey. Any man can get that here for a few hundred dollars. A patron gets you any way he wants it, as often as he feels like it. In exchange, he pays for an apartment, a car service, all the fancy clothes you could want…” She looks at herself in the mirror, leaning close to examine her reflection. “I’ve heard that a few girls even married their patrons.”
My eyes widen. “Oh! That’s pretty huge. I wonder what those girls did to get noticed?”
She shrugs, eyeing a group of girls coming through the door. I turn and look at them, laughing and wearing street clothes.
“New girls,” Mia says, smacking her lips. “They all just turned eighteen, I bet. And they’re wearing designer labels. If I had to put money on it, I would guess that they live at home with their rich daddies, who don’t know that their little girls come here to get their ho on at night.”
I purse my lips. “I bet you said something similar about me not that long ago.”
“True. You have proven yourself, though. If your daddy has money, you wouldn’t know it from looking at you.” She pauses. “No offense. I’m just saying you don’t act entitled.”
I blow out a breath. “I am actually working here, trying to earn money to pay my dad back for private school. I’m never, ever going to owe anything to anyone ever again after working here for a year.”
She arches a brow. “Owing your dad sounds like some white nonsense. You should be saving every penny and looking for ways to get to the next level.”
“And what’s that?”
“I already told you, girl. A patron.” Her gaze catches on my white kimono. “I wouldn’t wear that out on stage. It’s too light colored. It’ll give you little fuzzy white balls in your armpits.”
I glance down at my kimono, biting my lower lip. “I’m not planning on wearing it out there. It’s just for comfort in here.” Smiling, I stand up and head back to my locker. I swap the white kimono out for a black version, figuring it’s better safe than sorry. “I am thinking of doing something a little different with my first routine, though.”
Mia leans forward, snagging her top and putting it on. “More fancy ballet shit?”
My face goes hot red. “Yeah. You think it’s a bad idea? I’m still on my month of probation with Club X…”
She looks at her teeth in the mirror, checking for lipstick. “I think you made a shit ton of money when you did that standing on your toes bit last week. Anybody would be crazy to tell you not to do it.”
She eases out of her chair, her long legs gleaming as she stalks over to the lockers. I follow her, shrugging out of my kimono. As I put the robe away in my lockers, I whisper to Mia. “Hey, remember how I told you that I’m a dancer during the day too?”
She’s changing into a different bikini, this one black pleather. “Uh… yeah, I guess I remember.”
I scrunch up my face. “No one at my day job knows about this place. And vice versa. It’s like… very much not allowed for ballerinas to…” I suck in a breath. “You know, dance for guys.”
She closes her locker, favoring me with a smile. “Your secret is very much safe with me, honey.”
“Cerise, Fawn, Latisha,” the bored employee announces. “One minute till showtime.”
Cerise. That’s me. I take a deep breath, looking toward the doorway.
“See you a little later,” I tell Mia. She smiles at me, counting her money again.
I totter toward the doorway, trying to make myself into Cerise. I start with my walk. Head held high, shoulders pulled back, arms nice and loose, lengthen my strides.
When I’m playing Cerise, I’m confident. Smiling. Teasing. Winking.
She likes men to look at her, to fawn over her tits and ass, to rain singles down as she slithers on the pole. She’s my opposite in so many ways. I’ve never dated anyone, much less had strange men touch me as boldly as my customers will tonight.
Cerise is confident and worldly, I am introverted and naive. It’s just easier to be Cerise for a while, a mask that I can slip off and leave in my locker at the end of the night.
Heading down the dark little hallway to the stage, I mount the steps and wait for the emcee to announce me. My heart rate rises. My smile stays plastered in place. In the seconds before I go onstage, it feels the same as it does when I’m waiting in the wings in my tutu and pointe shoes.
“Now appearing on the main stage, it’s Cerise!”
My heart beat sounds like a drum in my ears. My music comes on, MIA’s “Bad Girls”. A the sound of the first notes, a switch is flipped for me.
There is a spotlight illuminating a shiny stripper pole on Club main stage. Everything around it is dim, made moreso by my singleminded focus. I strut out onto the darkened stage, barely seeing the audience. All I can see is the stage, bare, waiting for me.
A shiver of excitement slides up my spine. I reach out for the pole, caressing it with one hand as I turn to face the audience. I don’t really see them, though. Just the bright stage lights down front.