AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And now that we’re alone, I can feel the tears starting to sting the back of my eyes. Try as I might to keep it together, I can’t help but sniffle. I’d really been hoping for good news—despite mom’s persistent headaches. I’d almost convinced myself they were due to the chemo and not the fact that her tumor was still present.
“It’ll be okay, Heidi,” Mom says gently, and I nod, gripping the steering wheel firmly in both hands.
“I’ll look into the program as soon as we get home. I have about a half-hour before I need to go to work.”
“Heidi, you’re wearing yourself ragged. You need to slow down.”
“I’ll slow down once we kick this cancer,” I tell Mom, meeting her eyes with conviction.
She gives a sad smile, the exhaustion apparent in the sagging lines of her face. Just a year ago, we’d talked about going on a road trip to celebrate my graduation. Now, it feels like I’ll never get out from under the mountain of financial stress bundled with the fear that I’m losing my mom.
I know she’s made her peace with it. But I can’t. I’m not ready to let her go. I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready for that. But I’m not even thirty. It’s not fair. My mom is one of the best people in the world, and she shouldn’t be dying of cancer. Not after we already lost Dad to it when I was just a child.
Aren’t there enough people in the world that we could spread the misfortune around a little?
But it seems to follow me, my family, picking us off one by one.
The house is silent as Mom shuffles into her room to rest, exhausted from even the briefest of outings anymore. I get on the computer to look into the program Dr. Humphreys mentioned. It’s not going to come cheap, even if we can get her into the program. But it looks like a promising new way of specifically targeting brain tumors, so it might do what chemo couldn’t. We have to try.
I work quickly, filling out her initial application in the few spare moments I have before I need to head in to work. Then I grab my makeup bag and race across town to Lady Venus. I can’t be late, not if I’m going to try to convince Howie to give me overtime. I’ll need it to cover the extra expenses if Mom gets accepted into the experimental treatment program.
Plopping into the makeup chair next to Zoe, I give a breathy greeting as I get to work on my face.
“How’d it go?” she asks tentatively, and I know she’s asking about Mom’s doctor’s appointment.
I press my lips into a tight line, unwilling to cry when I need to be on stage in ten minutes. Rather than go into detail, I just shake my head. I don’t have time to fall apart now.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she breathes, her shoulders slumping.
Rising from her chair, she comes to stand behind me, getting to work on my hair rather than pressing for more information. She knows better than to let me get emotional at the start of a shift. The last thing I need right now is to get sent home. No man likes to watch a stripper crying when she’s supposed to be helping him forget about the problems in the world.
We’re here to inspire pleasure, beauty, fun fantasies.
So there’s no room for tears.
Plucking my pink sequin thong and matching top from the rack, I strip quickly out of my street clothes and don my outfit for the first ’90s-themed song-and-dance routine. Zoe’s already in her bright lime-green one, standing at the front of the room as she glances nervously toward the DJ.
“Come on, Heidi. He’s giving me the go sign.”
“I know, I know,” I breathe, stumbling into my strappy pink heels before my top’s even tied.
Zoe pulls it closed around my ribs, cinching it deftly. Then she dashes back to her place just in time to take her cue and head out on stage. Her signature strut raises a wave of hooting cheers, and I shake my head as I straighten myself out, making sure everything’s in place.
Behind me, Tiff is standing in her blue sequin outfit, ready to take the pole on the near side of the catwalk. Amber and Kat are already backstage once more, having entered through the far opening, where we typically exit to keep a smooth flow between numbers. They’ll have a dance or two to change and recuperate before they go back on stage.
Luke, our DJ tonight, gives me a signal, and I know it’s my turn to flaunt my body as I make my entrance. But I don’t strut like Zoe. She’s got the fiery personality and rebellious glare to pull it off, and while I’ve gotten perfectly comfortable on stage over the past six months, I’m still not overtly sexual in my walk like some of the girls can be. But I do know how to walk a catwalk now.
Scooping my blonde waves over one shoulder, I take long, confident strides, placing one foot directly in front of the other as I make my entrance. I don’t rush as I head toward the center pole, keeping my eyes up, aloof to the sea of men on either side of the stage. It’s easier not to look at them until I reach my place. Though Zoe never seems to have a problem with eye contact, it unnerves me to think about so many eyes on me.
But once I get to dancing, it’s easy to slip into the rhythm of the song, to find my comfort in my own skin. And I can appreciate the good workout I get from pole dancing. It keeps me focused.
Reaching my pole, I grip it, finding confidence in its firm stability as I allow my eyes to scan the sea of faces for the first time. My heart skips a beat as I spot a man sitting right beside the stage.
He’s gorgeous.
Dressed in a black suit, he looks like he might have just come from some formal event—a wedding, maybe. He’s loosened his tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt to reveal a hint of the muscular chest beneath. The perfectly trimmed scruff that colors his jaw is the same dark color as his thick head of wavy locks that shine from the product that keeps them perfectly styled.
From here, I can see the black ink of tattoos that just barely start to climb up his neck. I imagine every inch of his broad shoulders and back are covered in the artwork. He looks large, in both height and build, even from this vantage point above him. Large in the intimidatingly muscular way. He’s in magnificent shape.
