Page 72 of A Dark Duet

Exactly what they said I was in high school. It wasn’t a lap dance; I basically got the guy off, rubbing my lace-clad pussy over his cock encased in his pants. He wasn’t bad looking by any means and every VIP is screened medically so I have nothing to worry about. It was humiliating and something I hated doing with every fiber of my being.

He paid me double and that was what made it worse, never having done that before. The money is going toward my classes for this semester and clinical fees that I have to complete before I can leave dancing behind. That was the goal and that is my plan. Maybe he paid me double because I embarrassed him by not even getting aroused or maybe for getting him off.

My body and soul are numb, and men only see me as a piece of ass. It’s why I have sworn off dating. What is the point? When a decent guy finds out how I pay for school and pay for my apartment, they will just think of me as a stripper or worse, a whore. Why bother? Who would want a damaged woman like me anyway? I’m fucked up and there is no hope for me. No therapy can fix what was done to me. I have no one except my best friend Giselle and I don’t want her to see me like this.

It’s like my body goes with the motion with no feeling, just emptiness and all I want to be is alone. When I dance, it is the only moment where I can bleed the pain through the words and the beat of a song.

It was never supposed to be like this, I was in love with a man that I thought cared for me deeply. He threw me out of his life and back into the life I had before I met him, except this time, I only have hope I can make it out. In the meantime, the darkness is where I sleep and it is what reminds me that I’m not worth anything.

The only thing I look forward to is accomplishing school. The one thing that I have going for me and I’m doing it alone. On my terms. I want to be a physical therapist for combat fighters. I almost gave up after Jaden ended it. I had no money, no place to stay, and had to start over. He never called me. He never reached out. Not even to see if I was okay. That is when I knew I never meant anything to him.

Jaden “The Destroyer” Cyprus is living his dream undefeated. It’s hard not to see his fights being promoted and talked about all over the news and social media. This is Las Vegas, after all, fights are main events.

Equinox has a few fighters that walk through its doors, but I try to avoid their advances and offers for private dances. I’m not interested in anyone because none of them see me, they only see a good time. Guys look at my body like they are shopping in a meat market. They don’t care about my feelings or who I am or if I find them attractive. Their language is sex and money.

Dancing is one thing but what occurred last night is something I’ve never done and never thought I had to do. The ultimate sacrifice for a better life on my terms. Even if it left me empty and alone.

The only thing that was different was that I agreed to it, and I knew the risk and what it would entail. Maybe it was a one-time thing. He got what he wanted and wouldn’t return. Next time, he would pick another girl that wasn’t such a bitch right after.

Briana

It’s Friday night and Equinox is at capacity, having most of its members and special guest in attendance. The mystery client from the VIP room last Saturday night has not returned and I’m relieved. My first and only client I have danced privately for or rather dry humped and got him off. Marcus saw my expression when he asked me how it went. He assured me that I didn’t have to take another client and I could just dance my set on the floor, and all was good.

Marcus is also in charge of the safety and VIP rooms. He makes sure the members keep themselves in line following agreements and negotiations with the girls. It’s my turn on the floor and the club has a runway-styled floor with the end having a single pole close to the audience for their enjoyment. There are also three poles on the main stage located in the back and the best part of Equinox is that when you dance, you are not required to go fully nude.

Looking down at my outfit behind the curtain, the bright neon lights reflect the darkness of the club, casting a glow on the runway floor, making my outfit sparkle. I adjust my pasties that are sparkling on my braless breast and adjust the shortest boy shorts I think exist. They are so short and black that they’re practically a thong over fishnet tights and six-inch satin glittered heels.

“You’re up, Coco. Not an empty seat in the house. If anything happens or someone gets out of line, just remember I’ll be standing on the side and security will rush in ASAP.”

Looking up at Marcus’s monstrous frame, I smile. “Thanks, Marcus.” Thank God he’s married, and he loves his wife way too much. He reminds me of an older brother I wish I had. One that would watch your back no matter what. A big brother that wouldn’t let drug dealers rape their sister or put up with a drug-addicted mother.

Walking out to the floor, I set up on the pole located in the middle for my set. The lights shift, dimming low and when I turn my head to take a look at the crowd, my heart sinks.

The man from the VIP room is there watching me at the end of the runway in front of the last pole. His eyes are black as night and there is a man in a bulletproof vest standing behind him. Must be his bodyguard. Which means my assumption of him was right and he is dangerous if people want him dead.

“Fallout” by Unsecret & Neoni begins to play through the club’s speakers and I begin my set as I climb the pole, beginning with a split and turning upside down, allowing my hands to hold me steady.

The crowd shifts in their seats as I climb up to the tallest point of the pole near the ceiling, waiting for the hook to drop. I place my body upside down with only my thighs holding me. When the hook of the song drops, I drop with the sound of the beat. The pole sliding between my thighs, skidding to a halt before my head could hit the floor. My hands are spread wide like I’m floating suspended in the air right above the shiny black polished surface of the stage.

“Shit, did you see that?” a man from the crowd says.

The beat changes and I let my legs let go of the pole, allowing me to crawl on my hands and knees down the runway floor in a rhythm to the song, moving toward the pole on the end near the man I’m trying to avoid with my gaze.

For some reason, he makes me feel on edge. He watches me like a predator hunting his prey. “Hurricane” by Fleurie plays and I dance to the song, bleeding my darkness and pain to the slow cinematic silence.

When I make my way down, he stands and my stomach clenches in fear. The nearer I get, the more I can see his expression. It is blank and unreadable. No different than my own expression of emptiness. I twirl on the pole, ending the set in a split.

When I stand, he is gone. Like he was a ghost and I imagined him sitting there. One minute there and the next gone. Walking to the back to throw on a robe and cover my exposed body, Marcus walks over to me with a worried expression, stopping me from heading to the changing area.

“Coco. You’re VIP has arrived, and he has booked the rest of your shift.” I give a reluctant nod and walk toward the VIP room with Marcus trailing behind.

Opening the door to the same room as last week, he is waiting for me with a folder, making me frown. “Hello, Coco. Your performance was… impressive. I enjoyed it very much,” he says.

Ignoring his compliment, I ask, “What can I do for you this evening?” He knows I am being sarcastic and playing on his ego from last time and how he made a mess of himself.

He gives me a grin. “Come and sit across from me in the chair. I have a proposition for you. You don’t have to agree, and you can walk out of here and I will still pay you for your time, requiring nothing further. I just want you to hear what I have to offer.”

Sitting down, I face him while adjusting the robe to cover my exposed thighs. His eyes follow my movements and my skin crawls with annoyance.

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