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“Hey, Meyah!” Dakota called waving me over from behind the bar. I gathered the last few dirty glasses from the table I was at and headed over to her. The club was still reasonably empty, but within the next hour, I would be huffing and puffing as I tried to keep up. So I took the opportunity and perched my ass on a stool to rest my feet.
Dakota leaned forward so her breasts were sitting on the countertop, so she could talk to me over the pounding music which was vibrating through the air around us. I stifled a giggle and placed my tray down, sliding it down the bar so I could lean forward and hear what she had to say.
There was already sweat collecting between my breasts and at the small of my back, the short crop top and booty shorts doing absolutely nothing to make this place any cooler. Especially, when you’re not just running from one side of the club to the other, but also carrying and trying to balance drinks. At least I wouldn’t have to visit the gym to keep in shape.
“Dave asked to see you in the office for a few minutes before we get busy,” she shouted. “I have a feeling another girl called in sick, and he’s probably gonna ask you to dance.”
I sighed and leaned back.
Dakota saw the reluctance on my face and shrugged. “It’s money, girl, and you could really use it if you plan on continuing this epic battle for your independence.”
Screwing up my nose, I tapped my nails nervously on the varnished bar top. She was right.
“I’ll go have a chat with him,” I shouted, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to climb down off the stool. Even though the music drowned out almost every other noise in the club, I swear I could hear the clip of my heels against the wooden floors as I made my way down the back hall to where Dave had his office.
I kept trying to tell myself I just needed to say no. No matter whether I enjoyed it, or how much money it made me, I kept imagining my mom’s face, or Uncle Leo’s face if they found out I was dancing on the pole for a few extra dollars.
Uncle Leo was more accepting, given the club owned their own strip club and the girls there, from what I could tell, were treated really well, but would he want his niece to be up there grinding and thrusting while men grew hard-ons? Hell, no.
I’d never hear the end of it.
And then my mom? She’d probably lock me away in my room and never let me leave her sight again.
Who would want to know that old men are going home and masturbating to someone that you care about?
I shivered. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea.
Then there was Ham. I forced myself not to think of what his opinion would be. Whether he’d screw up his nose, disgusted he’d ever touched me, or whether he’d try to swoop in and tell me to quit, force me to give up just because he didn’t like it.
The first would hurt, I couldn’t deny that.
The latter would make me think twice.
Then again, I was a woman now. I wasn’t some young girl anymore, and if that’s what I had to do to get by, then that’s what I had to do.
Fuck.
Even as I pushed open the door to Dave’s office, I still didn’t have an answer. I wanted to be strong, independent, and live a life where I didn’t have to worry about my mom being disappointed or judging me. I wanted to prove to everyone that I could be strong enough to stand on my own two feet. Dancing made me feel beautiful, it made me feel strong and powerful.
What woman doesn’t want to feel that way?
Especially after everything that had happened with Ham, the way he’d made me feel so unworthy, used, and unimportant.
After that, it was nice to have men look at me like they would kill to be with me, or that they would treasure me and that I was worth the time in their day.
I lifted my chin and walked into the office, closing the door hard behind me. It was cool, the air-conditioner running on high, the loud humming sound making me wonder how the hell Dave ever got any work done. It would drive me fucking crazy.
When I’m focused, I need absolute silence. One small noise while I’m studying and instead of writing my paper, I’m on YouTube, ten videos deep on how bubble wrap is made.
“Hey, Dave, you wanted to see me?” I announced, noticing he wasn’t in the office, but the small bathroom off the back had a light on.
Water began to run, the toilet flushing. “Hey, babe, one second. Take a seat,” he called back.
“No problem,” I replied loudly, making my way to the bright green couch which sat against the wall next to Dave’s private bar. “I don’t want to be off the floor too long, the crowds will be coming in soon.”
I heard his deep baritone laughter, and he appeared in the doorway, flicking off the bathroom light as he exited. “See, I knew I loved you for a reason. You’re a hard worker, Meyah.”
Grinning, I sat a little straighter. Even if it was coming from a man who owned a bar slash strip club, and had girls working here who had obviously had too much hair dye seep into their brains, I still felt proud that he noticed I worked hard.
