‘Mostly nipple’ was what my mother’s boyfriend had always growled at me during those ugly encounters.
The words haunted me as I shakily flipped through stage outfits feeling more hopeless with every passing moment. It didn’t matter what I picked, I was going to bomb.
I didn’t have a drop of confidence. I was trembling and I could hear my pulse beating as loud as the DJ’s music. If I refused, Jay would never give me another night slot. I’d be stuck making next to nothing until I gave up and moved on again.
I was so tired of moving and pinching things to get by. I really needed this job.
Get it together, Crystal LaDawn Nance, I inwardly pep talked.
I nervously exhaled and slid a white dress from the rack. It was just thick enough to leave you wondering if you could actually see through it when the stage lights hit it and it tied behind theneck. I rolled stockings up my thighs and checked my reflection in the mirror once I got the matching stiletto fastened.
The neon purple thong glittered beneath, matching my nails and the smokey effect I’d played up on my eyes. I slicked some lip gloss on and smiled at the mirror.
I was an expert at putting on a face.
You had to be when you grew up with a mother like mine. Her drug-induced mood swings and violent boyfriends had taught me to perfect the art of smiling through tears.
I lifted my chin and turned as the DJ’s voice came over the speaker.
“You got this, girl.” Sidney encouraged, with a wink, when we passed on the stairwell.
I wished I believed her.
I glanced back at her long legs and perfect curves and knew I’d have my work cut out for me following her act.
The first note of the song dropped and took my heart to my stomach.
Oh, God.
I put one foot in front of the other and let the beat of Layto’s “Houndin’” carry me onto the stage. I closed my eyes, reached for the steel grip of my dancing partner, and twirled the pole to a chorus of lewd cheering. I let the music grip my soul and move my body. The growl and call of the lead vocalist commanded my every motion.
It wasn’t until I dropped to my knees, and dipped my head, letting the dress spill down my belly and bare those jewel clad nipples that I allowed myself to look his way.
I don’t know what I expected to find.
Maybe an empty table?
Him and the big guy in conversation?
It definitely wasn’t the sight of him on his feet, gravitating toward my stage like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. His dark-blue eyes met mine and everything in me clenched. It wasn’t that men hadn’t looked at me that way before, but none of them had acted like I had that kind of power over them.
The fact that he didn’t hide that hold I was having on him did things to me. And the knowledge that I was able to do that to him, in front of all those Disciples?
It was a different kind of rush.
I could feel their attention on us when the vocals turned to that thrash-worthy energy. The singer began wailing about a hounding-ass bitch, and I shot forward, slapping my palms on the stage as I landed. I clawed and crawled my way toward him with the same open, primal energy.
When he reached the tipping circle, and I the edge of the stage, I rolled to my back and stared up at him, my breath heaving as I ran a hand down my flat stomach. I snaked my hips as I shoved the material of that flimsy dress past my thighs and kicked my feet until the gown hung from the end of a spiked heel.
I laughed, pleased I was able to pull it off as smoothly with an audience as I did when I practiced at home, and kicked it at him. He snapped it up and I swear to God, I thought he was going to come across that little bit of bar top and take what he wanted right there on the stage.
A shiver ran through me as I tangled a finger or two in the top of the G-string and teased it between my labial lips as I thrust upward. The glistening evidence of what that thought did to me staring back at him before the lights cut off.
I normally scrambled off the stage, but I closed my eyes and greedily dragged in breaths, regretting how alone and bare my flesh suddenly felt as I laid burning on that darkened stage.
I eventually made my way to my knees and off the stage, knowing Jay’s bouncers would clean the floor of tips for me. It was how he got his hands on a cut of everything. The man was such a cheap bastard to work for.
I dabbed at my face and neck with a towel and made my way backstage to clean up. I’d just applied my lotion, when Jay blew through the double doors, causing several of us girls to turn in confrontation.
