“Sure. Who wouldn’t?”
Um, me.
“You make great money, and you have women galore. What more reason do you need?”
“I don’t know. What about preserving your self-dignity?”
“They don’t seem to mind putting it in their back pocket. I wouldn’t either if Daniel would let me up on that stage.”
“He won’t?”
Shayne shakes his head. “He’s very particular. I’m not cut or meaty enough. I do have some dance skills though, so that at least makes me money behind the bar.”
“Gotcha.” I nod.
Two more routines and then an hour of “free time”. This is where the performers mingle with the crowd. They dance and drink and give massages. Apparently, they hook up, too, because the Nelly guy has a girl pinned up against the wall with her legs wrapped around him. They need a room. Stat.
Once the male revue clears out, we cash out our drawers and head upstairs into the main room of Culture. It’s already filled with people. The dance floor is packed, and the alcohol is flowing. “I Need Your Love” by Calvin Harris is pumping through the sound system.
I follow Shayne as we make our way through the thick mass of people. The strobe lights are dancing blue and red on the ceiling, and the disco ball is reflecting off the acrobats on aerial ribbon flipping through the air. This place is a circus.
We jump behind the bar and commence working as we’re flooded with drink orders. As I move, I feel a rush inside me that’s been absent for so very long. I can’t exactly describe what it is. Vitality, maybe? Even if I am practically naked with these little blue shorts squeezing the shit out of my package, I find a small ounce of enjoyment thriving inside me. I hate that Mac was right. Getting out of the house and back in an environment I’m familiar with is doing wonders for my depression. Well, maybe not wonders, but it’s definitely helping.
I look up after a rush, and catch the good-looking, brown-haired girl from the revue standing in front of me. She’s wearing a sexy smirk and come-fuck-me eyes.Whoa.
“Can I get you something?” I ask, leaning over the bar. She bites her lip. I can’t tell if she’s toying with me, or if she’s just generally shy. She goes to say something when what sounds like a whistle blows. I look over to find Shayne and the two other guys working with us climbing onto the bar top. Whatthe fuck is this?
Shayne motions for me to get up there with them.Hell no.He gives me a frustrated face then kneels down in front of me witha don’t mess with meexpression. It’s sort of funny. He is in no way intimidating at all.
“What are you waiting for? Get up here.”
“No way. I signed up to mix drinks. There was no rump-shaking discussed.”
“Look, tough guy. Dancing on the bar is part of the job. Like it or not.”
Not.
“Don’t waste your brooding at me. Get your tight ass up here and make your money like the rest of us.”
I stare him down, digging my heels in the dirt.
“Youcandance, right?”
“Yes. I can dance.” I seethe.
“So, get the fuck up here and show everyone.” He puts his hand out, and I hesitate. Okay, it’s one thing dancing on a dance floor or behind the bar, but to actually get up in front of people and put on a mini show?
“Pussy,” he taunts.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
I grab his hand, and he hoists me up. Standing on the bar, strobe lights flash around me as Lady Gaga commands everyone to put their hands up. There’s a moment of indecision on my part as I watch a small crowd of women gather in front of us. Shayne and the two other guys are ripping it up to the catchy beat of “Applause”.I feel like this is yet another decisive moment. Can I do this? Can I just let go of all the fucked-up shit that plagues me and have some fun? Shayne nudges me.Dance!he mouths, so I do. I release everything that’s inside for five seconds, and let the infectious beat have me. I start to move my body. I don’t think about the fact that I’m wearing nothing but tiny shorts, or my hair is too long and falling in my eyes, or that I kind of actually like this song (don’t judge). I just concentrate on the energy of the crowd, and the women standing in front of me. I move my hips, my chest, my legs, and raise my arms as the female voice screams about how much she loves the applause. This minute I can relate. The tiny crowd that gathered when I started has doubled in size, and several sets of eyes are zeroed in on me. One set catches my attention especially. The attractive brunette is looking at me like she wants to know just how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop.
I follow suit as Shayne and the others jump off the bar and start dancing among the women. My feet barely even hit the ground before the brunette is attacking me. She wraps her arms around my neck and grinds her hips against mine. I go with it. It’s the first time a woman has touched me since...don’t go there.
As we continue to dance, she becomes more aggressive, running her hands all over my body as she rubs up against me. She smells good, like apples.
“I want to taste you so bad,” she whispers into my ear, and the only thing I can do is swallow the need lumped in my throat. “Would you like that?” She tangles her fingers in my unruly hair while simultaneously skimming her tongue along my neck. I nod, as I try to retain some oxygen in my lungs.