Just when I’m about to embarrass myself by asking Starla to pick something for me, a memory surfaces. A deep voice in a hotel room seven years ago, rough with need.
Hand and knees, Temptress. I’m going to fuck you hard from behind.
The memory sends an unexpected jolt of heat through me. That night was supposed to be a transaction—my body for protection from those thugs—but it became something else entirely. Something that gave me Austin, even if the man who spoke those words doesn’t know it.
The confidence I felt that night, the power I discovered in my own desire, floods back now.
“Temptress,” I say.
Starla nods, and I swear I catch the ghost of a smile before she turns away. “Good choice.”
As she leaves, I unzip my duffle bag with shaking hands and grab the hot pink mesh dress. Tiny, bright, and shameless. Perfect for tonight.
I change quickly, trying not to think too hard about what I’m doing. Looking in the mirror, I see someone I don’t quite recognize. Wild hair, bright eyes full of nervous energy, all curves and angles.
Ten minutes down. Five to go.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m surprised it’s not visible through the mesh dress.
“You okay, honey?” The woman at the vanity next to mine has been watching me with concern. She’s bottle blonde with the kind of pouty lips that definitely didn’t come from nature.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
I grab my makeup and start applying dark eyeshadow with hands that won’t quite steady. The woman keeps staring.
“You seem nervous,” she says as I finish with my lipstick. “I can help with that.”
I glance at the clock. Two minutes left. “How?”
Instead of pulling out more makeup, she produces a small metal tin from her bag. Inside are little white capsules that definitely aren’t breath mints.
“Just take one, and you won’t just be relaxed—you’ll have so much fun you’ll never want to leave that stage. Nothing like dancing naked while you’re riding the lightning.”
“The lightning?”
She giggles, and that’s when I notice her eyes are mostly pupil. One look at her glassy stare tells me everything I need to know about that particular choice.
“It’s what they call this stuff,” she whispers conspiratorially. “But keep it quiet. Management doesn’t like us using.”
Another stripper in a silk robe walks by and stops, shooting the woman a disgusted look. “What the hell, Candy? It’s not just that he doesn’t like it—it’s automatic termination if you get caught. You know the boss wants us sober.”
“Fuck off, Katie,” Candy mumbles, tucking the tin away with a huff.
Good. I was going to refuse anyway. I can’t afford to lose this job, and I can’t afford to lose focus. I’ve seen what drugs do, watched them hollow out neighbors and burn up classmates. I’m not about to be the next cautionary tale.
I’m desperate, but I’m not stupid.
“Thanks anyway,” I tell Candy, then check the time. “Shit, I’ve got to go.”
I rush out before she can argue, my heels clicking against the floor as I hurry to the stage. Starla is waiting with a headset, gesturing for me to take my position as a man’s voice booms over the speakers, introducing “Temptress” to the crowd.
There’s no time left to overthink this. Nervousness won’t pay Austin’s medical bills.
I have to perform.
Turns out Starla was right. Being thrown into it doesn’t give me a chance to freak out. When I step onto the stage, lights blind me immediately. I blink hard, then deliberately look away from the crowd. I don’t want to see the faces yet. Feeling their attention is nerve-wracking enough.
“Feeling Myself” by Nicki Minaj starts, its driving beat perfect for dancing. I move to the pole, switching off the part of my brain that wants to analyze and worry. I’ve practiced this routine every night this week with the pole I set up in my bedroom. Austin thinks it's for exercise, which isn't exactly a lie.
