“Get a load of this one!” Lorenzo scoffs, puffing on his own cigar.“That ain’t how this works, sweetheart.” His Boston Italian accent is thick.
Gio, thankfully, ignores him. “I thought you were toodelicatefor that kind of work, ballerina?” He teases, though I can tell bythe way he folds his hands on his desk and leans forward that he’s considering it. “What’s changed?”
I let loose a shrug, trying to look as casual as possible in this room full of sharks, not wanting them to know how desperate I am. “I could use the money, finally pay off my debt, and you know they’re always raising the rent.”
“Mmm.” Gio leans back in his chair again, studying me for a long while. “Fine.” And my heart skips a beat. “But lap dances are non-negotiable.” He points his cigar at me, and I bite my cheek to hide my wince.
“Okay,”I agree, reluctantly.Lap dances are fine. It’s fine. I can do that.Throw in a few lap dances and maybe I’ll get to my goal faster.
“Alright, ballerina, you dance tonight. And you dance well.” His eyes narrow on me. “Consider it an audition.” He laughs, the rest of the room laughing with him. “You should know all about those. Have Celeste put you on the rotation. Now get out. We have business to discuss.” He waves me toward the door, his interest waning.
Tonight? Fuck. I wasn’t prepared for that.
I thought I’d have a day or two to mentally psych myself up for it, assuming he said yes.I don’t get to vocalize the question though, because one of Gio’s security guys tugs me back toward the door, before pushing me unceremoniously out of it.
“You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart?” Celeste asks, watching me with a frown as I stare nervously at the thick red curtains blocking off the backstage area from the rest of the club.My palms are slick with sweat, and I’m almost certain I’m about to be sick.
I nod almost robotically in response to her question. Steeling my nerves, I climb the few steps up onto the platform like I’m headed to the gallows.
The black lingerie Celeste found for me to wear is a little small, the black mesh bodysuit just barely covers everything I need it to. Silver and black sequins glint in the neon club lights that stream through a crack in the curtain. A pair of black fishnet tights complete the look, held up by a garter belt fixed high up on my waist, and all on top of impossibly high clear heels.
At the top of the platform, I close my eyes as I attempt to drop into character.It’s just another dance—another performance. You’re playing a character who has to tempt the icky men out of their cash,I tell myself, fighting the rising vomit in my throat.
“Remember, they’re just men. Appeal to their dicks and they’ll pull out their wallets. It’s that simple.” Celeste smiles ruefully. She’s been the dancer’s manager for years now. I’m sure by this point, she’s seen it all.
The music starts, and I hesitate for another half a second before cracking my neck, feeling myself drop into character right before I step through the curtains.
Just another performance.
“Please welcome to the stage, our newest dancer Bella!” Sam, the club’s DJ, announces through the microphone before the music really cranks up. My hips move to match the seductive beat of the song. All eyes are on me, and I know it. It’s what I’ve trained for, and while this isn’t the Royal Opera House or the Mariinsky Theater, the same rules apply.
I reach the gleaming metal pole in the center of the stage, skimming it lightly with my fingertips as I circle it. Dropping my eyes to the small crowd circled around the stage, I allow aseductive little smile to grace my lips, drawing them in. I pretend to look them in the eye, but in reality I see nothing. My focus is on the music, and on the character I’m playing.
Tightening my grip on the pole, I spin around it, hooking one leg high and arching my back. A few dollars appear at my feet.
I lean into it, pulling out long-lost choreography from a few of my past, morerisquépieces. Catching hold of the pole, I drop, knees wide while arching my back. Gracefully sliding into a full split at the base of the pole.
The old man nearest me lets out a low whistle while dropping a fifty-dollar bill on the stage.
I haul myself back up just as gracefully, and just like that, I lose myself in the music, twisting, swinging my hips, letting my hands roam my body while I move.
They eat it up.
I have them eating out of the palm of my hand by the time I crawl, on my hands and knees, to the men waving the bigger bills. I try not to recoil at the touch of their fingers when they slip their bills into my panties, my bra, anything they can get their hands on.
When the music finally stops, I blow my audience a little kiss, heart pounding, before running off the stage with what has to be hundreds of dollars in tips. I’ve got money everywhere. Tucked into my bra straps, panties, garter belt. The rest I scooped up into a little tote bag Celeste handed me before I went out there.
And all that from one dance! And I didn’t even have to get naked.They didn’t seem to care.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
12
BULLET FOR BETRAYAL
KOEN
Now
