Page 158 of Ruthless Legacy

She laughs and swats me with a pillow. “Girl, you’re not fooling me. There’s no way you’re letting anyone near Pax while he’s matched to you. You’ll ruin his hookup just to piss him off.”

“Exactly.” I give her a pointed look. “To piss him off. It’s important we note the distinction between that and doing it out of jealousy.”

As I’m leaving LJ’s dorm, I receive a new challenge alert. I’m tired and want to ignore it, but I can’t. I need to stockpile points before I start picking and choosing which challenges I accept. There should be a score review soon, but until then, I don’t have time to be tired or cry about missing out on food, sex, or sleep.

I pause, exhaling tension from my body, then step through the doors of the Club N’iquity. Really, how on the nose is that name? I feel a shift in the atmosphere before I even make it through the brocade curtains. The smell of weed, alcohol, and the musky scent of sweat in the air.

My challenge isn’t all that original. Go to room three and dance for thirty minutes.

I don’t know any woman who hasn’t looked at a pole and wondered if she could swing around it and look sexy and graceful doing it. If they say they haven’t, they’re full of shit because why else would there be fitness clubs solely devoted to teaching pole dancing?

I’ve never taken classes, but I knew a few girls who worked at one of the busiest clubs in Nags Creek. I’d fill in as a server sometimes to make a quick buck. When the club was slow or closed, the girls would teach me some moves, in case I ever decided to start dancing. I thought of it. The money and tips were great, but the cash I was earning for the jobs I did was better, with less of a time commitment.

It’s been a while. I’m not interested in falling on my ass, so I won’t try any advanced moves. I walk onto the empty stage and drag my hand across the pole in a loose “c” grip.

The pole is cold to the touch, and the room is clean. That means nobody’s used it yet. I lift one foot off the floor, completing a pivot spin, then grip with my other hand and pull up so I can do a full spin. I hook my legs around the pole. At the end of my spin, I’m holding on to the pole with my knee, my hand barely touching it.

I’m debating if I want to ask for music and make this a more authentic experience, minus the taking my clothes off part, when someone slides into the middle of the booth.

I recognize him from campus, but can’t remember if I’ve ever heard his name. Now I want music to deter him from talking to me. I wind my body to a song in my head.

I slowly roll my hips and tilt of my head, keeping my eyes on my guest. I use my arms to pull into a seated position in the center of the pole and lock my legs at the ankle. The pole between my thighs. I hold it with one hand and lay back, putting my body in a full layout, slowly spinning around.

The speakers crackle, music fills the space. The song has a nice tempo, steady beat and the lyrics fit, so I use it as I choreograph my routine on the fly. It’s nothing fancy. Just a bunch of spins and slinking around the pole.

I flip my head, making my hair swing around and drop to my knees, then crawl across the stage before flipping onto my back and dragging my hands down my body. I lift my hips, slowly grinding the air, then turn over again, getting on my hands and knees, arching my back.

I toss my head to the side, peeking at him over my shoulder. I pause, then slowly climb back to my feet, and return to the pole, using my arms and legs to climb to the top, then spinning back down again.

When I reach the bottom, I toy with the hem of my shirt, exposing my stomach, then drop it again. Three more people come into the room. The timer on my phone hasn’t gone off yet, so I keep dancing.

I ignore the taunts for me to take my clothes off and focus on the music. I focus on this minute, this second, one dance step at a time. I’m drenched in sweat by the time my alarm goes off.

Thank god that’s over. It was definitely a lot more fun in Nags Creek with people I knew. I go to the bathroom before heading out and remove my wet shirt. If I were staying here, the bra and jeans look would fit right in.

One of the guys from the VIP room is leaning against the wall when I come out of the bathroom. He licks his lips, eyeing my bra. “So that’s what you were hiding under that shirt? Sugar, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. So when you come back in, lose the pants too.”

He pulls out a wad of money and waves it back and forth. “We tip big for lap dances. Even bigger for personalized attention.”

“You’ll have to spend your money on someone else. I don’t work here.”

“I don’t care if you’re quitting tomorrow. You still work here tonight, and we paid to come to the back room. We want our money’s worth.”

I try to sidestep him again. “I don’t know who you paid. Maybe you went into the wrong room. Now excuse me.”

Instead of moving to the side, he steps closer. “I paid to see you, Thea. I was promised you’d be strutting around with your tits out. I want what I paid for.”

This night is about to go to shit. If someone sent him here to see me, it has something to do with this challenge, or somehow preventing me from getting my points. I don’t know how you steal points from a dance challenge, but okay, let’s go.

“I’ve already told you. I don’t know what you paid for. Whatever it was, you got ripped off, because I didn’t sign up to show you my tits. I suggest you file a complaint with management.”

I shove by him, slipping my shirt back on as I exit the club.

I’ve just killed the ignition in my car on campus when I get another notification. Please don’t tell me there’s another challenge tonight. I read the text.

Leaderboard reshuffle. Can you survive the purge? Last days to find those points.

Then five names. Mine is third on the list.

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