Page 7 of A Dark Duet

I try not to snort, but I know she’s right and saying it from experience, having been a dancer and stripper herself.

I come up with a few dance routines for the evening, then try and teach them to the girls, and they all catch on quickly.

They teach me how to pole dance with the basic moves and I nail them perfectly. I even learn how to slide down the pole effortlessly, thanks to years of dance training.

The girls, Diamond, Treasure, and even Brie, say I’m a pro at it. It excited them for the last seven hours with all the dances we practiced. When it's ten p.m., the club opens its doors. I also meet the DJ, Jake, who spins at the club every night.

He explains that the girls get to choose the music for their dance routine unless there is a special request from a customer for a particular girl. It gets the customers engaged, and that means they spend more money.

I practice my dance routine and when I’m finished, I see that Jake was watching me.

“You're very talented,” he says.

“Thank you, Jake, that is very nice of you to say. I am sure you are talented as well if you’re the only one hired here to spin.”

Just like Brie described, the club has one of the best neon lighting systems that changes in sync with the music, including lasers, black lights, and three tall dance poles that reach high into the warehouse-type building. The height makes the stage appear bigger than it really is, but it has the added advantage of space in front so the girls can complete dance moves and strip without hitting themselves with the metal poles.

He smiles at me. “So, I know you’re from here, but where did you go to school?” he asks.

“Upstate, I graduated and was offered a job, but my parents passed, and I had to move back and settle their debts on top of burying them. It was the hardest thing I have had to do. So, here I am.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” he says with a soft expression.

I look down, my face showing the hurt it still gives me when I think about them.

He changes the subject quickly. “So, who is your absolute favorite artist?” he asks.

My eyes light up. “Well, Lana Del Rey, of course,” I say.

He looks up from setting up his equipment with his black hair and brown eyes. “I can see that is definitely your style, with a lot of seductive sex appeal. Now I know what to play when you’re up there on your own,” he says.

“Thank you, I trust your judgment. The DJ is just as good as the dancers,” I say.

I get ready with the girls in the dressing room. I went with Brie into town and bought a couple of bras and matching lace panties to go with the sexy costumes. They have so many beautiful ones, it was hard to choose. I have two dance routines for the night on short notice, each of us will take turns on our solos, except for Brie and I, we don’t go all nude in the club. When we’re not dancing, we’re serving, and according to Brie, the money is substantial. We have to go by our stage name at the club, so I have to call Brie “Coco”.

The club fills up quickly with some couples, but mostly men, while Jake spins the latest hip-hop and dance music. I notice a few celebrity ball players, football players, and even hockey players, all in the section where mostly the VIPs are seated.

I also notice a hooded figure, along with a guy wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and a hat with all of his tattoos on display. They take a seat in the middle while I can hear people calling out, “Good fight, champ.”

Must be a fighter or something, but I can’t really see his face. I’m not into boxing or MMA. It’s not a big deal in my hometown, unlike football. Football is the soul of our town.

The fighter and his friend sit at the section Brie and I are in charge of for the night. I get a tray and walk up to them, dressed in garters and a very short skirt with my butt on display along with a tight corset that pushes my breasts up, making my very generous rack look even bigger.

I have the typical stripper shoes on that are not uncomfortable, but make your legs look long and appealing. My hair is in waves down my back, wearing light makeup, not overdoing it, for fear of the sweat that will drip down my face from dancing.

I come up to their table with Coco by my side to help me out and get their orders. Seeing both men slouching in their chairs, I almost trip over their long legs. The hooded figure looks up and removes his hoodie, revealing light-brown hair, a two-day-old bearded shadow, and the most intense hazel eyes I have ever seen.

I look at his friend with his faded haircut, but I don’t look into his eyes because my focus is on the guy they call “champ.” I see his knuckles are rough with scabs on them, his face without a scratch, and his small, straight nose. He is breathtakingly beautiful and should model instead of fight.

“Welcome to The Porcelain Dollhouse. What can we get you boys?” I ask.

The fighter looks at me and then averts his eyes, dismissing me.

His friend smiles while looking at Coco and says, “Two beers, please.”

I write it down, feeling the fighter’s eyes on my legs, looking at my thighs up to my skirt. Instantly, I feel aware of him and the club begins to feel hot. A light sheen of sweat on my skin.

I can’t wait for my routine to take the corset off and be in just the bra and skirt with stockings hooked up to my garters.

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