Swallowing down the fear, panic and anger, I stomp back over to the stage and grab the heels from my bag. It’s time to get out of my usual mind set and into that of a stripper. Like Ellie said, they’re called dancers, but that isn’t what they are, not really.
All the girls here have talent but at the end of the day they do it without their clothes. And if I ever want to be there, I need to practice. On my own, able to look at myself in a mirror and watch as I take off all my clothes, imagining having the eyes of a lot of men on me as I do.
Cranking up the music, I tug off my t-shirt but leave the shorts and bra. For now. I’ve watched a lot of routines on the internet, and seen the girls here, worked out how the moves are slightly nuanced and different to what I’m used to, how to sway in a certain way, arch my body to maximize the effect.
Some of the girls bump and grind but I don’t think that is something I’m capable of. I have been practicing a certain routine though and I start to do it, working around the pole before jumping up and swinging.
There is nothing clumsy about me when I’m up here and I start to lose myself again, but pull back from the edge, long enough to let my feet hit the floor, twirl around the pole with my back to the seats and unhook my bra.
My throat swells but I cast it aside, with a sexy flick that I’ve seen the other girls do, then I turn around, grabbing the pole and leaning my upper body back, my back arched, boobs thrust up to the ceiling. I’m spinning, twirling and using the pole like it's an anchor when I spot my reflection in the glass.
It makes me stall and gasp to see my naked breasts. Get used to it, Charley. This is what you need to do. There is a place in my mind I can go to, muscle memory taking over when I dance. I just need to avoid the mirrors.
“Why did you stop?”
The voice startles me. I grab my boobs and look over at the door. Relief floods me when I see it’s Ellie. She must have crept inside while I was lost in the music, standing back in the shadows.
“Just overthinking.” I decide not to lie.
“You need to get out of your own head,” she tells me.
She looks gorgeous in designer jeans, knee-high boots and a tight sweater. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek pony tail and her make-up is perfection.
“It hasn’t gone unnoticed that you’re working hard, Charley but you still have some sort of mental block.”
“I’m working on it.”
“If you want to dance here, prove to Beast you’re worthy of a place on that stage, you need to do more than work on it. You will have to audition. It’s not just a given that you will get a spot.”
I didn’t know that. That’s a whole other layer of shit on top of the ever-growing pile.
“Come outside,” she says and leaves.
I put on my bra, and shirt and follow her, leaving everything else. Ellie has walked over to the main stage and is waiting for me. There is no one else around which I’m grateful for when she tells me to get up on the stage.
This stage is big, it has enough room for whole dance routines as well as the poles, and there are booths right up to the edge of the stage. These are the expensive seats, with higher backs than the rest of the booths to give the people who purchase them a bit more privacy.
The stage is high enough that people behind them can still see, but now I’m up here, it’s jarring how close those booths are.
Lily said they’re the men you want to dance for. Not just the owners who frequent them, but the men who have subscriptions here, who hand over hundreds instead of tens and twenties. It’s the Holy Grail to dance this stage.
“Do that routine,” Ellie said, leaning a hip against the booth. “All of it, from the beginning and then go onto the pole like you did back there.”
I touch my top and pinch my bra strap.
“You can leave that all on for now,” she waves a hand.
She reminds me of my old dance teacher, a little tougher and intense maybe, she’s very intimidating but if she didn’t think I could do it, she wouldn’t be helping me, right?
Sucking up the nerves, I move to the center of the stage. If I fuck this up, I don’t think Ellie will let me take it any further.
Think of the money, think of getting your own place, finally feeling safe, you can stop running, never look back, live a better life.
There is no music, but I hear it inside my head, counting down and starting to move. I don’t look at Ellie, I don’t worry about anything except getting this right, proving I have what it takes.
I’ve been used to dancing in bare feet or dance shoes but luckily with my practice over the last week I’ve gotten better in the killer heels and I nail every step and move, every twirl and bend.
When I move over the pole, I leap up and wrap my legs around it, spinning and arching upwards, then stretching out my legs and slowly dropping my feet so my back is pressed against it, my hand gripping at the top of my ass. I bend my knees, roll forward and simulate taking off my bra, then I step around the pole and look down at her.
