Dwight
To say I was seething would be an understatement right now.
I pace back and forth on the sidewalk outside the strip club, my mind reeling. I can’t seem to calm down. My heart is pounding out of my chest and my head is throbbing.
In less than half an hour, I’ve watched my nineteen year-old student strip in front of a room full of men and get assaulted by some sick low-life who clearly gets off on forcing women.
I stomp over to the wall of the club and pound my fists into the cold, rough brick, the skin on my knuckles tearing.
“Dude, calm down,” Logan says, resting a hand on my arm but I shrug out of his grip.
“Calm down? Logan, I could kill that motherfucker for what he did to her!”
“I know, okay? I get it. But she needs you, and you’re no good to her like this.”
“Did you know? Did you know she worked here like the restaurant?”
“Of course not! Dwight, I swear I didn’t. I was as surprised as you to see her here tonight.”
At that moment, the door to the club swings open and Quinn steps out, fully dressed in a sweater and jeans with my coat on her arm. She comes to a stop in front of me and offers me my jacket. I take it.
“I’ll uh… leave you guys to it. I’m gonna get a cab home, see you later, Dwight.” He looks over at Quinn. “Take care of yourself, Cockbiter, okay?” He winks.
A small smile breaks out on Quinn’s face and she nods.
Logan has this impeccable knack of being able to crack a joke in just about the most serious situation you could think of, and I’d usually find it amusing, but tonight, I’m not laughing.
After he leaves, Quinn and I stay in an uncomfortable silence for what feels like eternity, both of us unable to look at the other.
“Well?” I force out, finally breaking the silence.
“Well what?”
“Really?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“A stripper? Are you actually kidding me right now?”
“I don’t have to answer to you, Dwight. You’re my professor,notmy boyfriend!”
“I knew you were hiding something. I knew there was something more.”
“After what just happened to me in there, are you seriously mad at me right now?” her voice cracks and my heart squeezes.
I’m not mad at her, I could never be mad at her.
She makes her way over to the wall and slides down it until her ass hits the sidewalk. “You think me working here was a choice? Yeah, when I was five years old, I didn’t dream of being a princess, or a nurse or some fucking artist. No! Instead I dreamed of taking my clothes off in front of a room full of men for money!” she shouts. “I became a stripper because I hadnochoice! It was either that or lose my home. I make more money in one night than I do in a week at the restaurant. Ineededthe money.”
A couple walk by us, their eyes darting between us before continue walking.
Quinn swipes away a stray tear that rolls down her cheek. “You know… every night after I get off stage, I run to the bathroom and vomit until there’s nothing left. The feel of their eyes on me, their seedy comments… it make me sick.”
It’s then that I see the look of shame on her face. She’s desperate. She had no other option.
I take a step towards her. “Quinn... I-”
“What are you even doing here anyway?” she cuts me off.
