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“Yes.”
She runs her fingers through it and snaps. “Your stripper name is Raven and your real name...” Her words linger across the air.
“I’ll use Autumn. I have an ID with that name.”
“I like that! Do you live alone, Autumn?”
“No. With my grandparents.”
“I’m sure they’re very proud of where you’ll be working.” She smiles. “Are they going to be suspicious as to why you come home so late at night?”
“I’m twenty one, not fifteen.” I say, knowing that Virginia and Henry hardly ever ask me any in depth questions about any of my jobs; they’re usually just happy that I have one.
“Well, seeing as you need all the extra help you can get...” She laughs. “You should come back and try to learn as much as you can every day until Friday.”
“Will I get paid for that?”
“You won’t get paid until you start doing a better job.” She tugs me towards the side exit of the dressing room. “Go sit in the audience and watch me work. I’m officially your new role model.”
I sigh and walk around the showroom, looking for a seat. I’m the only female who isn’t holding a tray of drinks or dancing, and the men in the audience are eyeing me suspiciously—probably wondering why I’m fully dressed.
I take a seat on an empty couch, and watch as the lights in the room change from a dim yellow to a sinful red.
“Gentlemen,” a voice says over the speakers, “Introducing your premier lady of the evening...Robyn.”
There’s a loud applause and Robyn slowly struts onto the stage—looking as if she owns the place. She makes eye contact with a man in the front row, and with every third beat of the bass, she undoes a button of her brown trench coat.
Little by little, she undresses herself—teasingly sliding off her garter, her long stranded pearls, and finally her bra. Eye-fucking her target, she wraps one leg around the pole and hoists herself up—guiding her way through a routine so sexy and erotic that the stage is covered in bills before she’s halfway done.
Jealous, I watch her and several other girls dance effortlessly for the rest of the night. I watch them earn hundreds of dollars.
In between sets, I slip into one of the party rooms and watch how the lap-dances are given—noticing how confident and “into it” the girls seem.
I make the long drive to the club every day this week—letting Robyn critique my every move, allowing her to seduce me multiple times so I can see exactly what I’m doing wrong...
***
On Friday my nerves are all over the place.
Unfortunately, no one will be able to stop the music and help me with my techniques if I mess up today. I’ll be dancing for real clients who expect me to know what the hell I’m doing and I’m honestly not sure that I do.
When I arrive at the club, I quickly head into the dressing room and change into a slutty red dress. It clings to my curves and stops right in the middle of my thigh. It’s one shouldered, and it matches the black and cream colored bra I’m wearing underneath.
“Is this good enough?” I walk over to Robyn.
“It’s perfect. It’ll be you, me, and Avril serving drinks and lap-dances. Maya will be onstage, and Snow and Bella will run point whenever things get too hectic. Got that?”
I have no idea what “run point” means and the other girls haven’t said a single word to me all week, but I nod anyway.
“Michael will be in the room watching to see if you’re a good fit, so make sure you remember what I taught you. You have the eye contact down and you could already move well in heels. Just cut the dance part short and act like you’re having sex whenever you’re in someone’s lap. You’re good at that.”
“Party’s here girls.” A male voice calls down from the steps. “They’re paying by the hour so hurry the hell up.”
The other girls rush past me and I follow them upstairs.
The private lounge looks different today than it has all week. The lights are so dim that I can barely make out how many men are in the room, and cigarette smoke is wafting through the air.
All of a sudden, a muted yellow light shines on the small stage and a dancer steps behind the pole. She slowly drags a band away from her ponytail, letting her dark red hair fall free.
Exuding an incredible amount of confidence, she bends backwards, until her hands touch the floor, and then she somehow flips her body onto the pole.
Completely mesmerizing, she begins to spin around it with ease, and I’m convinced I’ll never be that good.
I hear a man asking for a cigar and decide to make myself useful. I walk over to the smoke case to get a box—resisting the urge to light one of them for myself. Before I can pick it up, I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder.
