We walked into the back hallway, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the club. I followed Desiree to the dressing room, and she introduced me to two other dancers, Lucy (her stage name was Amethyst) and Heaven.
The three of them gave me pointers on various tactics to increase my tips. Desiree even let me borrow a pair of her shoes since she decided I needed heels worthy of being a stripper. From adding more eyeliner complete with a winged-eye to slathering oil on my skin to be more appealing, it all helped me feel like I belonged.
Desiree straightened her large breasts in her bikini top and leveled her gaze on me. “All right. You and I are taking the stage at the same time. You got a song preference? If not, I say Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me.’”
“That song is too predictable!” Lucy cried, taking the words right out of my mouth.
After a small shrug, I suggested, “How about ‘Rattlesnake Shake’ by Mötley Crüe?”
Desiree twisted her lips for a beat and pulled her phone from her purse.
Heaven made a noncommittal sound. “That might work, but it’s kinda old.”
I heard the opening notes of the song coming from Desiree’s phone.
She paused it and looked at me with wide eyes. “Oh, I remember this one! We can dance to this no problem. I’ll make sure they got it cued up. See you on stage.”
Before I could tell her I didn’t know where to go, Desiree had scurried out of the dressing room.
Lucy read the look on my face and chuckled. “Don’t worry. Dez loves making an entrance. When you walk out that door, go right, and then hang another right after about six feet. You’ll be great.”
Within minutes of being on stage with Desiree, I was counting my lucky stars. This wasn’t like auditions, and I never would have remembered to take my top off if it weren’t for following her lead. Strange as it seemed, with that hurdle cleared, I felt much freer and got into the routine more than in the beginning.
What I hadn’t realized was that we’d end up dancing to three songs before leaving the stage. The DJ faded and mixed the first song into Def Leppard which let Desiree have what she wanted, and we ended the set to ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses.
The lights went out a second before I grabbed my top, and I made my way off stage while tying my top behind my back.
“Hey, new chick! You got a request for a lap dance,” a male voice called from the end of the narrow hallway backstage.
Desiree stopped in front of me, giving me a long look. “You ever done that before?”
I took a deep breath and shook my head.
She chuckled, but it was filled with understanding. “All right. Depending on who it is, you’re gonna owe me.”
“What?” I whispered.
She shook her head. “Nothing big, just a Concrete Mixer from Culver’s. Keeps my figure nice and curvaceous.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I can handle owing you that.”
She turned her head toward the other end of the hall. “Tell them, they’re gettin’ a two-fer. I’m gonna show Ava how it’s done.”
I heard the man groan before he responded. “Then he’s fuckin’ payin’ more. This ain’t some charity, Dez.”
She chuckled and eyed me up and down. “Put your tips away and get that top secure, girlfriend. They get to have you up close and personal, but it doesn’t mean they get your goods unless you feel like dancing that way. And no matter what, they do not touch you. Only you touch them, and it’s all outside theirclothing. Otherwise, not only do you have problems, but so does the whole frickin’ strip club because that could be seen as solicitation.”
“Understood, Desiree. I have no desire to touch these people, it’ll be hard enough to dance in their lap.”
After what felt like the worst and longest lap dance ever, I hurried backstage with an extra hundred and fifty dollars. I could smell the whiskey practically oozing from the man’s pores, so I didn’t think he minded my awkwardness, but he probably hadn’t intended to tip me so much. My mind dwelled on how many lap dances I’d need to do to put a dent in Mom’s debt.
I needed a calculator.
On that thought, I ran smack into a hard body. I glanced up and locked eyes with Punc.
“Uh…” I stopped, not knowing what to say.
Punc knew exactly what to say. “You’re off in ten minutes. I’m driving you home.”
