“You’re late, Rob,” Darla Tiedwich snapped once she caught sight of me in the dressing room.
“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” I didn’t bother to give her excuses, she wouldn’t care. Instead, I dug out my costume, a tight-fitting suit that I could easily rip off when the time was right. Once Darla had found out I was in school to become a lawyer she had dubbed me “Billy the Sexy Barrister” as my stage name. The ladies—and some of the men—definitely seemed to like it. I made money hand over fist. Recently Darla had started putting me on for the shower shows. There were three showers installed in the back of the club, encased in clear glass, where people could pay me 300 bucks to watch me take a shower. It sounded crazy but women went nuts for it. It was funny what a little soap and water could do to turn people on.
“I’ve given your shower spot to Jeremy,” she informed me and my stomach dropped. The showers were where I made most of my money. I could do up to twelve showers in a shift, which was a good chunk of change even after the club took its cut.
“Darla, please. I need that money tonight—” I started to say but she held up her hand, cutting me off.
“Someone’s hired you for a private dance. Paid a g for the privilege,” she said, practically licking her lips. Private dances had to be requested and were reserved for certain high-paying clients. I had never been requested before. My stomach flipped over. It was common knowledge that the private dances usually involved...other things. There were no cameras or bouncers in the secluded rooms and the usual rules of “no touching” weren’t adhered to.
Was I expected to have sex with this person?
I couldn’t do that.
Stripping was one thing. I actually enjoyed that part. It was sexy and hot and made me feel alive. I had always been a dweeb in high school. Growing up, I was the runt, not hitting a growth spurt until I turned sixteen. I didn’t go on a date until I was seventeen and about to graduate. I was the shy, smart kid who kept to himself. Not much changed when I went off to college either. It was hard for me to break out of my shell and meet people. I didn’t do parties or bar crawls because I wasn’t a drinker—never had a head for the stuff. I was definitely an outlier when it came to the whole college experience. I was awkward and small talk didn’t come naturally to me. I was the guy either friend-zoned or overlooked completely.
Not much changed for me in college. Not at first anyway. I was still the quiet, smart guy. Sure I got the attention of women—I knew I was good-looking in my way—but once my natural awkwardness took over, they typically lost any interest. Looks only get you so far.
I didn’t know what made me go to the open call for exotic dancers at The Landing Strip. The online ad promised it had the potential to make you lots of money. Mom and I were looking into residential facilities for Sam and the decent ones were way more than my mother could afford. Insurance would only cover so much, so the cash drew me in. The unexpected buzz of being on stage, transforming into someone completely different, was what kept me there.
Darla had seen something in me. She said I had a nice face but it was my “aura” that made her hire me. I hadn’t known what she meant, but apparently, I had a sexy, mysterious thing about me that you couldn’t teach. She told me to start working on my body. She had another stripper named Mike to share with me his high-intensity workout meant to bulk me up. “Women don’t want scrawny. We want to see your muscles,” Darla stated in her usual gruff way.
I started working out five times a week. I lifted weights and started running. Over time I developed a nice set of abs. I would never have a body builder’s physique—I wasn’t made that way—but I was toned and hard. The first night on stage was both the worst and best experience of my life. I had moved like there was a steel rod shoved up my ass, but the women loved me. They shoved so many bills down my tiny G-string that it looked ridiculous. I made three hundred and fifty dollars that night. I started putting half of my nightly tips aside to pay for my brother and mother’s care. And once I had been dancing long enough, I even developed a bit of a following. Despite this, I had never been requested for a private dance.
Until now.
“Okay,” I said, my voice a little high pitched.