Page 12 of A Dark Duet

I think about it and weigh my options. Dance for a crowd or for just one man who wants to enjoy watching me? Paying me more money than I make in a year. I had decided my goal in dancing is to save up for my very own dance academy.

I have thought about it since I came back home. Dancing is what I love, and it’s the only thing I have ever wanted. A man just takes what he wants, and when he’s done with you, casts you aside as though you mean nothing but a good time. That much I have learned about being here.

Men, both married and not married, frequently come to the club knowing some of the famous athletes have long-term steady girlfriends. It doesn’t stop them from paying for extra favors in the back room. What would it matter if it’s someone I actually find attractive on a sexual level?

He can easily come in here and watch me dance, just not topless, but some outfits I thought of wearing on some nights are borderline from being just that, practically naked, that leaves little to the imagination.

With my decision made, I look up. “Do you have a pen?”

She smiles. “I am glad you are accepting the most generous offer I have ever seen in a club I have managed. Just one thing, Giselle, be careful with him. I saw the way he looks at you and I have seen that look before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, that man looks at you like you are the last cup of water in a desert, and he is dying of thirst.” She chuckles.

I nervously sign the papers, knowing I cannot let anyone know about the agreement or give any information regarding the arrangement.

* * *

The next morning, Brie and I head to the diner for our morning shift. I tell her about the agreement, even though I signed the NDA. Like I wouldn’t tell Brie some MMA fighter who could kill me with one punch is taking me to his house in Las Vegas to do a striptease, ending in just my thong.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Giselle?” she says, smiling.

“Yeah. I actually signed the NDA and agreed to dance for him. I am so nervous. What if he is a creep and I go missing?”

“No way. I don’t believe he’s a creep. He likes to be alone and hates clingy women. Probably why he hired you. When he has his little tryst, it is widely known he leaves a care package with designer purses and perfumes that cost thousands for every woman he takes to bed and leaves afterward. There was, like, an entire article about him regarding his love life and all the women who throw themselves at him, and the ones who are lucky enough to have had sex.”

“I guess that’s a relief. He will be bored with me and leave me alone. It states no penetration, so he isn’t interested in me like that. Just a lap dance and minimal clothing that no one will see me doing.”

“Exactly, Giselle. He is paying you a lot for just that. Do you know how many men Diamond and Treasure have to see in that back room to make that kind of cash? He could have easily just offered you the money for sex.”

“I get it, Brie. It would be dumb to pass it up and I definitely need the money. I would have turned it down if he had requested more. Anyway, I get the key to the apartment today and need to go to the furniture store to at least buy a bed,” I say excitedly.

“I know! I am happy for you, Giselle. And the added bonus is that you are just one floor down from me and we can hang out and have movie nights!”

Giselle

We arrive and park her car in front of the diner. The next thing I have to get is a car, unless I walk. Uber is not very popular in smaller towns and I feel bad asking Brie for a ride everywhere I go.

We get out in our makeshift pink uniforms that are mid-thigh, but on Brie and I, they look like a server waiting to seduce the customer for how form-fitting they are on our toned bodies. I put my name tag on and pick up my wavy hair in a messy bun with some loose tendrils of hair framing my face.

I’m wearing pink lip gloss, eyeliner and some blush to look presentable. I have only had five hours of sleep from the previous night dancing at The Porcelain Dollhouse.

When we scan the parking lot, we notice expensive cars, an Escalade, Raptor, Merc, and even a Ferrari at the diner.

Great, must be the customers from the club trying to break a hangover. We walk through the back door and Joe greets us both.

“Thank God you girls are here,” he says.

“Hi Joe,” we say in unison, smiling.

“Please help with the four booths, one through four out front,” he says, sighing. He seems overwhelmed and exhausted.

“On it, Joe,” Brie says.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Joe, Brie showed me everything there is to know, and I have memorized the menu,” I tell him as he smiles.

“I knew you girls were too smart. I’m lucky to have you helping an old man out.”

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