Page 70 of Captivated

“And now, welcome to the stage, our newest member of the Pandemonium club, PRETTY KITTY!” he yells, and I cringe on the inside. I didn’t come up with that stage name, but when the house mom saw me with the mask, she suggested it and I went with it. It’s what Nico called me when he saw me last week, andI thought I’d like having the reminder of him before I took the stage. Now, I don’t want the reminder.

With one more deep breath to settle my nerves, I slip into character and saunter out onto stage, blocking out the yells of expletives from the too eager men.

I chose the song “High” by Whethan and Dua Lipa because I did a whole routine to it for my pole dancing class’s showcase at the end of last year, so I know exactly when to hit the beats and with which moves.

I practiced so much for that performance, it’s second nature to me. So when the second chorus comes and the beat drops, I drop to my knees and untie the bow holding the black lace covering my boobs together. Underneath, I’m still wearing a black leather bra, but it’s only the framing of the cups, so my boobs are completely out.

There’s an audible cheer, and where I already had money at my feet, more is tossed, in higher denominations this time.

By the time the song is over, it looks like I have more money than I’ve made in my two nights here combined, splayed out at my feet.

I sashay off the stage, knowing the money will be picked up and delivered to me shortly.

Once I’m through the curtain, I grab the pieces of lace hanging down my back that are still attached to the bra and quickly retie it so I’m covered as my eyes water with the sudden onslaught of emotions I’m experiencing.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I can do this.

I have to do this.

It’s no big deal. It’s no big deal. It’s no big deal.

Maybe if I repeat it enough to myself, then I’ll believe it.

“Cassie,” the manager says, startling me out of my meditation.

“Yes?”

“Great job out there.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“I got another offer for your time. I know you said no yesterday, but tonight’s offer is a lot higher.”

My gut is telling me to say no, but my brain is telling me to hear him out. “How much?”

“A grand to start.”

My eyes bug out. “What?”

“He wanted to make sure you said yes.”

“Umm…” I nibble on my bottom lip.

“He’s just paying for your time. Anything extra will be extra.”

“I’m not having sex with anyone,” I tell him straight up, so he knows I have boundaries.

“This isn’t a fucking brothel,” he says, as if that was offensive for me to insinuate when he’s the one telling me extras get me extra money. “We don’t pander sex here.”

I still want to say no, but I know I’m not going to do anyextras. This might be the solution I need to get me out of here faster. “I guess I’ll do it.”

“Great. He’ll be in VIP room 3 when you’re ready. Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

When I get back to the dressing room, the guy in charge of sweeping up the money hands me everything I earned.

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