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“Ignore her.” Michelle fell into step with me. “Time to spread Desire about.” She winked at me, punning my stage name.
I worried at the rhinestones on my lip as I mentally rehearsed my routine. Dancing was second nature to me. I’d been doing it since I was three. It was in my blood. I worked on autopilot most nights, tired from a full day at uni, but tonight was different. The air was charged, and it wasn’t just because Halloween was one of our biggest nights.
When I took my first break at nearly ten, I needed to replace more rhinestones, and my forearms were burning. I’d been dancing my butt off, although I hadn’t seen the new boss again. That didn’t mean she and her team weren’t watching.
Jeez, I hated feeling paranoid. I’d had enough of that in my life.
Seeing as I had to replace half the rhinestones anyway, I glugged a bit of water and went for a quick wee.
Head up high. My mamá’s voice echoed in my ears, and I whispered a silent prayer to her tonight. I’d never seen anyone move on the pole the way she did.
I grabbed my wrap and tightened it again for my main routine. The club was heaving now, and I’d already made good tips on one of the small poles. Tonight, they’d lit the UV, making my costume pop.
I strutted onto the main stage in time with the beat. “And next on the main stage is Desire.” The DJ rolled the r in my stage name.
Mystique wasn’t a club where the dancers could choose their music. You were introduced and danced to whatever they played next. The beat started thick and heavy, and I grabbed the pole, rolled my hips, and moved into the early part of my routine. I made eye contact with the men around the edge of the stage, which usually ensured more significant tips if they thought you were watching them.
Deaf to the catcalls and jeering, I slipped a shoulder free of my robe and continued. Mamá always told me the secret to her success wasn’t switching off like many girls but simulating genuine desire. She told me she imagined the best sex of her life. She was always open with me, never hiding what she did because I was a teenager. I didn’t have much experience with good sex, but I had a great imagination.
I slipped the silk sash on my wrap free, letting it fly behind me as it twirled around the pole. I imagined a faceless man watching me, sliding closer and trailing his finger across my collarbone.
Climbing the pole and inverting, I allowed my wrap to slip free. It slithered to the floor beneath me. As I undulated and swayed, only the music beat and the faceless man of my dreams permeated my concentration. Something shifted in the crowd as the energy thickened. The stares tonight had weight to them.
Returning to the floor, the faceless man of my imagination was worshipping me now, and heat pumped through me. The song crescendoed, and I ended my routine bent over, looking back over my shoulder.
My eyes locked with a man across the room. His gaze was potent as his intense eyes drilled into mine. My heart was already pounding from the exertion, but it raced harder.
Shaking myself, I tore my eyes away as the song changed and swung into a more complex routine that tested my arms. The burn added to my internal heat because my imaginary faceless man had been replaced. I didn’t look into the crowd again, but I saw him in my mind. Tall, dark-haired, and intense, he was powerfully built and wearing a suit. As I danced through the next song, I used his heated attention to fuel my movements. This time, I ended up on my front, legs spread obscenely as I arced my back. The move pulled tight on the transfers across my chest, adding to the tingling in my pussy. What was with me tonight?
My eyes sought him out, but he was gone. Disappointment, more acute than the situation warranted, hit me.
“Fucking show us your tits, love.” A guy off to the right hollered at me.
I shook myself, and I rolled upwards to move into the next song,
“Thank you, Desire. If you want to book a room with her, speak to your server.”
Confused, I turned and noticed the stage manager signalling me to come off. My heart sank. I was being pulled only two songs into my set. I collected the cash thrown onto the stage, blew a kiss and flirty wave, and strutted off. It was less than I usually made, especially on a packed night like tonight.
Shit, shit.
I controlled my breathing and headed for Teresa, the stage manager. As soon as I moved behind the curtain, Kelsie bumped past me as she strutted out to applause and jeering.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked Teresa.
“No. The VIPs have requested you.” She ushered me forwards. “Take those transfers off your tits. You need to impress them, girl. Kia is up there, too.”
Teresa was a no-nonsense mother-hen type, but I could hear the stress in her voice.
“Are they part of the takeover?”
“They are the biggest bosses. Just work hard and impress them. You know the drill. Take a ten-minute break and then get up there.” She squeezed my arm.
Shit.
Theresa was the reason I had the job here. She moved from a club near Northampton, where I used to work, and she told me she could get me a spot on the rota. When I got into Sheffield Uni, I called her right away. This club was far enough not to attract the city crowd and be recognised but close enough to commute without falling asleep at the wheel at two a.m.
I shrugged my wrap back on and headed back to the changing room. I decided against taking Teresa’s advice and removing the transfers, plus half-ripped-off nipples weren’t an impressive look.
