I smiled as I watched Sveta bounce on stage, wearing her g-string, tiny tutu, and a push-up bra.
Sometimes I wondered why we even wore anything at all out on the stage. The men didn’t let us keep it on for more than a minute after the song started. But, once I got my top off and I heard the roar of the crowd, my nerves would calm. I would pretend, for just five minutes at a time, that I was the most desired woman in the world. Well, at least in Prague. The longer I worked here, the more I realized something strange about myself. Deep down, I liked the rush of the lights, the smell of hot lust from the men waving money at me, and the feeling that I could seduce just about anyone. It was also incredible, feeling the control.
I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t
want to, even though Reg highly frowned upon turning a client down for a lap dance. But, in reality, if all I wanted to do was dance on stage, I could do it. If I wanted to give a hundred lap dances a night, I could do it. Even if I wanted to let some perv rub his dick all over me, although I wouldn’t, I could do it if I chose. It was all about my control, something I didn’t have growing up in the sleaze house in the junky, run-down part of Liverpool. What am I saying? Every part of Liverpool was junky and run down.
I took a deep breath and strapped on my six-inch heels, knowing when Sveta was done, I would be called up on stage. Reg liked my long legs and had this weird thing with the eighties. He always dressed me in leotards, cut abnormally high on the hips and incredibly low in the front. He also made me wear huge, flashing translucent heels. But I didn’t care, the men seemed to like it, and it’s not like it stayed on very long. Good thing, too, because this g-string hurt.
I looked in the mirror and grabbed the eyeliner, going for the deep, sultry look tonight. Dark, thick eyeliner always made my bright blue eyes pop, and out here, they loved the blonde look. So I made sure that I teased my hair extra high with big, bouncing curls. I could see the men’s eyes moving up and down my body when I bounced across the stage. My huge tits, my curls, and their eyes danced in unison. During lap dances, when I spoke in my British accent, the men went absolutely fucking nuts. I didn’t know how many times I got three seconds into a lap dance and watched as the guy busted a nut in his pants. That was fine with me because that meant I did a little work for a whole lot of money, and they would most likely come back the next night and do it all over again.
I stood up and stretched my ankles, getting ready to twist and turn on the stage. No one wanted a sprained ankle, and no one liked a stripper falling to her doom from the red velvet stage. I climbed the steps to the curtain that opened up out onto the walkway, bending my neck and stretching my legs. Reg poked his head around the outside door and looked at me.
“You’re on in one minute,” he said, staring at my ass before ducking back out.
Asshole. This was the part I hated the most, the initial explosion out onto the stage. You never knew what kind of reaction you were going to get. It was really tough on slow nights when you grab your inner diva and strut out, just to see two guys sitting in the audience, too drunk to even notice you’re dancing.
I turned and leaned over to grab my second shot. I held it up in the air. To future journeys, never telling my future kids I was a stripper, and kicking Prince Charming right in the balls. I slung the shot back and giggled at my own little cheers. I had become such a little hard ass, but that was good. It meant I didn’t get drug down into the depths of hell with the rest of the girls here, who came for a little while and ended up staying years.
Sveta’s song ended, and she walked in through the curtain, carrying an arm load of cash, as usual. I stepped to the side, tapping elbows with her. With the amount of bills she was carrying, it must be a full house tonight, which meant they were selective about who they let in. Knowing that, I sucked it in tighter and reached into my suit to adjust my cleavage.
Sveta ran over to the stairs and waved for me to bend over. I closed my eyes, and she blew a dusting of glitter on my tits. I turned and walked out onto the stage. The initial hit of the lights wore off, and the audience became clear. I posed, ready for the music to begin. The sound of the beating bass got the vodka kicking, and off I went down the runway, a spiteful sassy girl, wrapped up in a sexy kitten smile.