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“We’re done talking,” I say, stopping at the set of steps leading off the stage. “Now back away, or my bouncers will snap your scrawny ass in half.”
“Then—then give me extras,” he says, pulling out his wallet. “I know how this works. There’s always a backroom. How much is it to get you back there?”
“More than you can afford.”
“Try me,” he says, pulling out a handful of hundreds. “I can go to the ATM too.”
“I tried you.” I swipe the money from his hand and tuck it into my G-string. “And all the money in the world wouldn’t be enough for me to touch a worm like you again.”
“Fine, I won’t touch,” he says, chasing after me as I start for the occupied table. “Just please, Lo. I’m begging here. Just give me a chance. Hear me out.”
“I can do that right here,” I say, stopping and facing him, my hands planted on my hips. The bouncers are watching, alert and ready to pounce from their places beside the door if I so much as nod in their direction. Three months ago, I would have laughed if someone had told me I could feel safe wearing only a few scraps of lace, while alone in a room with a half dozen men. I wouldn’t have believed it if they’d said that I could be in control in that situation, that I’d have the power to choose what happens to me next.
“Can we get a room so I can watch you?” Rylan pleads. “I like that too. You can touch yourself, and I’ll just look, and covet, like you want. You can remind me what a dumbass I am for giving that up.”
“It would be fun to remind you what you lost,” I admit, chewing at my lip and batting my eyes. “And what you can never have again.”
He nods eagerly. “I’ll go the ATM right now. How much?”
“It would be fun,” I say slowly. “But for you, the answer is, and will always be, no.”
I nod to the bouncers and turn away, not even watching as they order him to leave. I hear him protesting, hear them dragging him out, and that gives me enough satisfaction.
Not as much satisfaction as keeping my back to him, though. I can do that now. I have to talk myself through it, but I can. I’m tensed, knowing he’s there, my body remembering the pain he caused so many times, the daily violations for so many months, when I didn’t get to say no. My body is ready for the consequences of uttering such an audacious word.
But I force it to stay, even when my heart is racing and my mind is reeling with panic and terror. I force it to stay, and when the consequences don’t come, I remind myself that they won’t.
We’re safe now.
I return to the stage, knowing I’m not ready to flirt with the other men yet. Instead, I start the next song. I’m halfway through before I realize I’m still here. I haven’t floated out of my body, left a pretty sex doll for them to lust over in my place.
Because tonight, I got to make a choice. Elation swells inside me as I move, feeling the power and strength in my muscles as I lift myself, winding my legs around the pole. I didn’t have to fake smile my way through an interaction with those clients that I wasn’t ready for, didn’t have to scold myself internally and tell myself I could do it, that I could get through it. I didn’t have to survive it.
I got to walk away.
Just like I got to walk away from Rylan.
Maybe I’m an object to the men who come in here, just something pretty for them to look at. But to me, I am more. I am an autonomous human being, someone who gets to make her own choices. Someone with the power to say no, the power to draw the men from their table to the stage with the sway of my hips and hair, the allure of my thighs and smiles. Here, I hold all the cards.
I can turn my back and know I won’t be grabbed by the hair, shoved facedown onto the stage, defiled. I can swing around the pole and be admired and desired instead of disparaged and dismissed. I can lure them in, make them want me, make them beg, and send them away without a single touch, much less fulfillment. I get to make that choice. I can choose to be touched by only my hands, can watch their eyes go glass with lust when I caress my curves, can watch them shifting uncomfortably in their seats and do nothing to satisfy their needs.
My job is to make them want, not to fulfill that longing.
At the end of each dance, each encounter, each night, I am free to walk away.
Here, my beauty doesn’t hurt. My beauty is not a weapon. It’s not a commodity for someone else to exploit.
It’s power.
As I move my body, for the first time, I feel its strength, its flexibility, its grace, and I am as captivated as the men are. I feel power swelling inside me, like that scream that so often wants to erupt, that lodges in my throat. Tonight, I melt it, let it run through my veins like a drug.
When I move, I don’t just feel their envy, their longing, their lust.
I feel my own sensations.
I feel strong. Invincible.Sexy.
And it’s not for anybody else. Sure, the men are there to witness it, but it’s not for them. It’s not for Rylan, no matter how he tries to convince me. It’s not for Colt, like the orgasms I reach for in the dark, under the covers in my quiet, empty apartment while he finds his own ending inside the warm comfort of the girl he loves.
