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Emma
When I roll out of bed, I creep down the hall to peek out the window and check to see if my fathers car is still here. Thankfully, it’s not.
This means that I can actually get ready for work at home today instead of having to get there early to get ready in the dressing room. See, my father thinks I’m working at a café downtown- The Oak. Little does he know- I’ve never even been to The Oak.
So why am I lying to him? Well, because my actual profession isn’t exactly the kind of job you tell your father about. No, I’m not a drug dealer or a prostitute. I’m just a stripper. And while I personally don’t find anything wrong with the job- my father definitely wouldn’t approve.
In fact, if my father found out- he would practically disown me, and he would definitely kick me out of the house. And since the two of us have always had a pretty good relationship- I’d rather not screw that up by revealing to him that his sweet little girl gets naked for money.
Truth be told- I quite like my job. It’s fun most nights, depending on what group of girls is working, not to mentionhellatip money.
Halfway through getting ready, I realize that I have to stop by my fathers work before I head in. Upon realizing this, I decide to finish getting ready at work. Thankfully, I didn’t do my makeup yet- only my hair.
After I stop by to see my father, I begin the ride to work. I think about how much I admire my father. He’s been the fire Chief of the station he works at for like- over forty years now or something. He’s one of the most respected fire fighters in all of Miami- he’s like a goddamn celebrity around here.
This is one of the reasons why I’m completely shocked he hasn’t found out what I do for a living yet. I was sure someone would have ratted me out at some point- but I guess I do look quite different in my stripper clothes and makeup.
Of course, I don’t plan on being a stripper forever. I have goals, and real plans for my life. It’s just hard to reach those right now.
I’m twenty-five years old and I still live with my father. In a lot of peoples eyes- that’s pretty pathetic. But the truth is, even with my father as the Chief- my family doesn’t make a whole lot of money.
As of right now, I’m almost to my goal of having enough money to buy my own nice car (right now I’m driving my dad's old hand-me-down) and a nice house to live in. This was very important to me to have these two things.
I don’t believe in just jumping right into college as soon as you graduate high school. I think all that does is create a very large number of adults in their thirties regretting their career choices, and I don’t ever want that to be me.
Besides- I’m still young and I’ll have plenty of time for school and finding a respectable career once I get settled with the things that I really want first. I’m not disappointed in myself for not being farther along in my adult life- I’m proud of myself for not following the same path generations of people have followed and regretted.
When I arrive at work- I can already tell that tonight is going to be quite a busy night. Saturday’s usually are- but tonight there’s some big music festival in town, so lots of twenty-year-old’s are expected to be fucking around downtown tonight.
I set up my station in our dressing room to finish getting ready for my shift. I still have to put on my fake eyelashes, pop on some lipstick, and add a couple more subtle touches to my already beautiful face.
See, I’m not conceited or anything- but I’ve always known I was beautiful. I’m just not afraid to flaunt and use that to my advantage. Why shouldn’t I?
The dressing room is basically where all of the strippers hang out when we aren’t on stage. We touch up our makeup in here, take photos for our gallery wall and social media accounts, along with just fooling around and having a good time when we’re not performing.
As I’m getting ready, putting some last-minute touches on my long platinum blonde hair, and getting into my clothes for the night- a fellow stripper walks in. Unfortunately, it’s Ginger. Fuck Ginger.
As soon as she sees me she rolls her eyes, to which I don’t even respond. Ginger is probably one of the bitchiest people I’ve ever met in my life.
She’s one of those people who thinks that everything in life should just be handed to her. Like the world owes her something. Basically, she’s a lazy fuck. Not to mention she’s just rude to everyone that crosses her path, including the other strippers.
I honestly don’t know how she hasn’t been fired yet- she doesn’t make half the tips me and the other strippers make, and then has the audacity to complain about that. I try to ignore and avoid her at all costs.
Once I’m all dressed up in my knee-high black stilettos, short high-waisted black shorts, a lace bralette and black fishnet tights. My hair is extra voluminous with loose curls today, and I’ve got on my famous bright red lipstick.
As soon as I saunter onto stage, the entire place erupts. I’m a bit of a favorite here. I begin by doing a little entrance dance and send some flirty looks at the guys drooling over me in the front row. I even jump off the stage and give a couple little mini lap dances and such before hopping back on and starting my pole routine.
“Damn baby- lookin extra sexy tonight!”
“How much for a private lap dance?!”
“Why don’t you let me take you out tonight honey!”
Tons of guys shout things out to me as I do my pole routine. A huge part of my job is entertaining these sleazebags to milk them for all the tips they’ve got. Most of the time I don’t mind sending a few flirts here and there, but sometimes it just gets really old- and tonight is one of those nights.
A group of four extremely hot men flirt with me as I swing around on the pole, doing my best tricks. They’re actually all my type- and they all look like they’d be a good fuck, but I’m really trying to stay away from any and all men right now.
Besides, I don’t like hooking up with guys that come to my work anyways. Sometimes that can lead to some minor stalking. And I donotneed that, especially with how well-known my father is.
Not only that, but I’m focused on much more important things right now that don’t involve men. Things like a nice Camaro and a nice ranch-style house with a huge pool in the backyard. Who needs men when you’ve got all that?
As I’m starting my final dance before another dancer takes over, I spot a couple men walking in. One of them looks oddly familiar. I start to think maybe he’s just a regular, but then it clicks- he’s one of the hot men I saw when I went to see my father earlier, which means he obviously knows my father
I certainly can’t have him recognizing me, so I hurry up and do a little exit dance before sneaking offstage before the firefighter can notice me.
