Page 51 of Fighting the Odds

“Who is it?”

“Wanted it to be a secret like you. Said you can call him Cox when I reconfirmed the time and rules today. Are you sure you’re okay to be here tonight? I can call and cancel him.”

“I’m good. Anything else?” I give a small, forced smile.

“Okay, then get on out there. Just head to Room A at ten.” I give him a salute and huff a laugh at myself before standing and heading to the door.

Just as I’m about to open it, I look back at him. “Thank you, Rico, and I promise to come to you if at any time I can’t handle tonight.”

I don’t wait for an answer and quickly open the door and step into the hallway, closing it behind me.

Before I head to the floor, I pull the mask down over my eyes and make sure my wig is firmly in place.

The beat of the music gets louder the closer I get to the floor. The whoopin’ and hollerin’ of male voices drown it out as they shout at the woman on stage.

I peek around the corner to see a packed house, and it’s barely eight thirty. I can feel the artery in my neck pulsating, my heart racing in my chest. I’ve always gotten nervous before going on the stage, but somehow this feels different.

I can’t explain why. It just does.

Taking a deep breath, I steel my nerves, straighten my posture, and slip on a smile. Lilac comes out to play, the baddest motherfucking bitch in the house.

Once I’m in the right mindset, I step into the club area, strutting my ass around the room, stopping to say hello to a few of my regulars. I always lay my hand on their shoulder, letting it glide up and down their arm as I laugh at their jokes. They eat it up as usual, and I step away, leaving them craving more of my personal attention.

That’s why a lot of them want a private dance. As much as I hate doing them, it’s where the big money’s at. My mind drifts to the one later tonight and I’m a little curious why he only wanted me.

I feel his eyes on me before I ever see him. Looking around through the crowd as I weave between the tables, I spot him.

He’s standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Cyrus.

My protector.

He winks, mouthing I love you. Flutters explode in my stomach and I can feel my face heat under his intense gaze. I mouth it back, fighting the urge to move over to him and let him wrap his arms around me.

I make my way over to the stage to get ready since I’m up next. I’m doing a throwback number tonight since I haven’t worked on any new routines and who doesn’t love a girl in a pleated skirt and white button-up shirt. It’s a fantasy of every guy who’s ever watched the Britney Spears music video from back in the day.

Gem is just finishing up her number as I move to the side of the stage, awaiting my announcement. I’ve done this so many times, it’s familiar to me now. When I get on the stage, I know how to block everything out and own it. It’s the only time when I’m in the club that I feel in control.

Lost in my pre-show ritual, I don’t notice Gem coming off the stage until she’s right next to me.

“You’re up girl. Kill it!” She stumbles slightly as she steps past me. How the girl can dance in her pleasers, spinning and flipping around the pole and not miss a step but almost crash to the floor just walking is beyond me.

“We can only hope,” I whisper as I take a deep breath. The emcee announces me and the crowd goes wild.

I take my time, going up the steps, slowly moving across the darkened stage and take my spot at the pole. Leaning against it, I arch my back and pop my hip.

It’s time.

Just as the first beat of the song hits, the spotlight lands on me and Lilac starts to dance.

Turning, I grip the pole, taking a slow walk around it before launching into a back hook spin.

I can hear the men in the audience and see the money landing on the stage, but it's all a blur.

My hips move to the music and I spend equal time on and off the pole. I was afraid with the time I’ve taken off I would be rusty, but I guess it’s like riding a bike, you never forget.

My costume comes off piece by piece until I’m left in nothing but my G string and I crawl across the floor, putting my crotch in the men's faces as they slip money underneath the strings of my underwear.

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