I was wrong about Charley being like Bambi, when she gets to her feet, there is nothing wobbly or disjointed about her, she’s more like a panther, graceful, lithe.
Beautiful.
“Right about what?” she asks, a scowl on her face.
It’s more from fear at me freaking her out than genuine anger. I’m not sure she is capable of anger.
I move a little closer, not enough to freak her out even more. We’ve never talked, or been alone, just the two of us. She is dressed like a dancer at a rehearsal, not in her underwear, but the fabric is skintight, clinging to every inch of her perfect body.
“You’re too good to dance here.”
She rolls her neck, looking away from me. It makes me smirk but when she looks back my face is carefully neutral.
“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?”
“Probably a lot. It might have more to do with you trying to dance at all the wrong places.”
“How am I supposed to get the experience I need if no one will let me dance?”
“For the kind of dancing you want to do, you think they’d accept this as your experience?” I indicate around us.
Elegance is a high-end place, but there is no getting away from the fact that the women who dance here, though extremely talented, do it with their tits and ass, and occasionally their pussies on display.
Something tells me this little beauty couldn’t handle that. She’s picked a good place to try. Some other strip joints would have had her up on stage the second she walked through the door.
I don’t know much about professional dancing, but I do know those chicks are a lot skinnier than her.
She has a beautiful body, no doubt she’s kept herself fit with all the dancing she does, but her tits are more than a handful. And from the way they move when she dances, even all bound in those tight tops, they’re real.
Beast tries not to take anyone on who has fake tits, but it happens a lot in this industry.
Everything about this girl is real, pure, and that is why it’s dangerous for her to be in this business.
Well fuck, now I know why Beast is letting her work here. A few blocks away there is a club I’ve heard a lot of bad shit about. The strippers there are hardcore and dance because they have to. Here, the women dance because they love it, they feel safe and we pay them well.
Beast is worried about her so he’s doing what he can to keep her here, even though she is one of the clumsiest people I’ve ever seen. Except when she is on stage.
“It pays well,” she answers.
“You’d sacrifice your chance at professional dancing for money?”
“That isn’t what I’m doing,” she takes a step toward the edge of the stage, a little fight in her tone.
It’s fucking hot, more so than how she looks. “Forgive me if I’m being naïve but aren’t those dance types all hoity toity about where someone learned to dance?”
She licks her lips, not in a sexy way, she’s trying to think of a response. My guess, she knows I’m right. Dancing here will hurt her chances of ever doing anything better. Of following her dream to be a professional dancer.
No woman ever dreams of being a stripper, I’m pretty sure of that. And even if they do, this girl isn’t one of them.
“Servers here are paid well, you’d be best off sticking to that.”
“Right,” she mutters and reaches down to grab her shoes, muttering to herself.
She doesn’t realize I have exceptional hearing.
“If Beast thought you were that bad, he would have let you go weeks ago. We’ve all seen you dropping a tray full at least once,” I laugh.
Her back straightens and she bites her lip. Fuck, this girl. She’s killing me.
