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I roll my body back up the pole, making as much eye contact with the men in the audience as I feel my nerves creep back up again.
Don’t think about him.
Don’t fuck this up.
I swing my leg in the other direction and grip the pole with my knees as I climb it. My shins are screaming and the skin on my calves burns, but I smile without missing a beat. The intrigue of this job is how hard it is to look beautiful while I’m in such intense pain. It holds so much more meaning to me than just a sexy dance.
The lighting shifts into a deep red as the bass drops, and suddenly, the entire club is going crazy for me. I transition upside down, and I nail the move despite how many times it’s sent me to the floor in my practice.
For a split second, I close my eyes and let the insanity enclose me. I hear the men cheering, even some of the women on the sidelines are losing their minds for me. I start to see money floating toward me in the flashing lights. If I hold their gaze for too long, the men in the audience might become entranced. I feel more powerful than I ever knew possible.
I flip back onto my feet, shaking my ass at the group of men who have tossed the most money onto the stage. They toss up more cash, and when I spin into a back hook around the pole, I catch a glance of some of the other dancers who appear to be talking about me. I can’t indicate from their expressions whether or not what they’re saying is good.
It doesn’t matter. Right now, I’m on top of the world and feel like the sexiest person in this room.
Just as my song is about to end, my eyes meet with someone in the front who I hadn’t seen before. He’s younger than the rest of the crowd, possibly closer to my age. I try to avoid staring at him for too long while I’m on stage, but as soon as I’ve finished my song and gathered my cash, my eyes are fixed on him again.
He stares right back, and I smile at him until I feel someone touch my shoulder. I jump a bit, trying to collect myself.
“I see you looking at that pretty boy over there,” Arielle says as I turn around. “You need to focus on work right now. I’d advise against getting too close to any of the clients, even if they promise to ‘take you away from all this,” she continues, gesturing vaguely to the space around us.
“Oh no, I was just trying to see if I recognized him from somewhere,” I lie.
“Okay, well, even if you do recognize him from somewhere, don’t get too friendly with him. Abram isn’t going to like that,” she says, giving me a warning glance.
The idea of Abram being bothered by my interaction with another man is too tempting to pass up.
As soon as the next girl has started her set, I make my way through the crowded, sweaty bar area to the back door. There are at least four other girls outside, talking shit and smoking cigarettes while they wait for their turn on the stage.
“Hey, can I bum a cigarette?” I ask Daisy, one of the girls closer to me in age. She nods and smiles, offering an open pack for me to choose from.
I have to admit that I typically don’t smoke cigs, but I need an in to make sure I’m on the good side of the veteran dancers here. If we all live under such unusual circumstances, it’s probably important that they see me as a likable,normalperson.
Just as I’m halfway through my cigarette, I see the younger guy from before emerge from inside.
“I’m not trying to seem like a creep, but your dance in there was electrifying,” he says quietly, looking directly into my eyes. Maybe that means he really means it.
I feel a flutter in my belly when I look at him. He reminds me so much of my ex, Cole.
But I can’t let myself remember too much about Cole.
Not after what he did.
“Oh, thank you. I practiced like crazy,” I admit as I blush. I meet eyes with him again as I take a long drag off my cigarette, making sure to suck in my cheeks a little.
“My name’s Jaden. I come here pretty often, but I’ve never felt like I needed to talk to any of the girls here until now. On your first night, too. That’s impressive,” Jaden says smoothly. He pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me.
“This is my number. I’ve got my business number as well as my cell on here. Text me on either one if you want to talk more,” he says as he hands me the card. He deliberately places the card in my hand in order to touch my fingers, which sends an electric shock through me.
“Um, okay. Thank you,” I reply weakly.
I wish I could slap myself for not being more straightforward.
As I lie in bed later that night, I feel an intense desire to text Jaden. Hell, I don’t even want to just text him. I want to sneak him into my fancy new apartment and fuck him on Abram’s dime. I bet that would mess him up pretty badly.
I find him on social media, scrolling through his photos and feeling that familiar little flutter inside me. He looks so much like Cole and absolutely nothing like Abram. Abram is so angular and unapproachable in a sexy way. He’s almost reptilian like that.
Jaden has softer features that lend him to more of a stereotypical mama’s boy look than a cold-blooded killer like Abram. I feel like such a slut, wanting so much attention from so many different types of guys.
Would Abram punish me if he knew I was thinking like this?
Would Ariella rat me out?
