More Than Exist

by Bethany Lopez

  I made it to the door, my breathing slightly uneven, and pulled it open without bothering to check where I was. As I hurried in, the smell of stale smoke hit me in the face while my eyes tried to adjust to the room. Music began to filter in my brain, and I became full aware of my surroundings, and the fact that there were half-naked women dancing on stages throughout the room.

  I surveyed the large area, and saw my purse being handed from one man to another at the end of the bar. I hurried forward, careful not to touch anyone, or anything, as I moved through the room.

  “Hey!” I shouted when I got closer. “That’s my purse.”

  The men turned to look at me, then the tall, bigger man turned to the one who’d apparently took my purse and pushed me down, and said something that I couldn’t hear. Then the snatcher walked into the back room and out of my sight.

  I walked up to the big man, who was holding my purse in a vise-like grip, and said, “That’s mine. That man stole it from me.”

  Big and tall didn’t say anything; he just moved his beady eyes along the length of my body, then gave me a creepy smirk.

  “I think you’re mistaken.”

  I gasped, unable to believe this was happening.

  “You can’t be serious,” I argued. “That man just stole that purse from me, about a block away, and I followed him in here. Look inside, you’ll find my driver’s license.”

  “Seems like a case of your word against his,” Beady Eyes countered.

  I put my hands to my hips, my temper starting to take the place of any fear I’d been feeling.

  “Hand it over, and I’ll prove it’s mine.”

  “The purse is in my possession, therefore it’s mine. But, if you want it, I have a way for you to earn it back.”

  “I repeat … You can’t be serious,” I reply, practically shouting. “I’ll just leave, go to the cops, and bring them back here.”

  Big and Tall’s face hardened. “And do you actually think the purse, and all its contents, will still be here when you and the cops get back?”

  Shit!

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask, against my better judgment.

  “Come with me,” he replied, then turned and walked into the back.

  Helpless to do anything else, I followed him into a room filled with mirrors, chairs, and costumes. There were half-naked women everywhere, and I had to keep my focus on him, to stop myself from gawking.

  “Ginger!” he bellowed, startling me and causing me to skid to a stop.

  A pixie-like girl came rushing over, clad in only a G-string and pasties.

  “Yeah, Big Mike,” Ginger said, her voice sounding like tinkling bells.

  Seriously, she was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Well … minus the pasties. She had long red hair, and the tiniest body. She was like a real-life fairy.

  “Take…” Big Mike turned to me, and I realized he was pausing for my name.

  “Belle,” I responded.

  “Take, Belle, here and doll her up; she’s working with us tonight.”

  His words sunk in like syrup on a pancake, and when my brain was saturated, I turned to him, my mouth agape.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Not on the stage,” Big Mike replied, and the knots in my stomach loosened. “Just a couple lap dances.”

  The knots knotted back up.

  “I’m not giving lap dances.” I was sure my face was red, and about to explode.

  “Look, sugar,” he began.

  “It’s Belle,” I reminded him through clenched teeth.

  “I got something you want, and I have a need that needs to be filled. You fill that need, and I’ll give you what you want. Capiche?”

  “But…” I stuttered.

  “Can’t you dance?” Ginger asked in her singsong voice.

  “Yes, I can dance,” I responded without thinking. I’d taken lessons religiously as a kid, and had actually met Ricky at a club. We’d danced the night away.

  “Perfect,” Big Mike replied, with a scary grin. “I got clients who will pay top dollar for a girl like you. Someone obviously untouched.”

  “Untouched?” I asked. “I’m not a virgin. I’m in my thirties, for crying out loud. I have a husband.”

  I spoke without thinking, just reacted, but Big Mike heard me say husband, and his eyes flitted down to my bare ring finger. I’d taken it off and secured it in my lock box the day the movers came. I’d treasure it always, but part of my moving on, was letting go.

  “I mean, had a husband,” I barely whispered.

  I suddenly remembered the point of this trip, and realized that I could either leave and go to the cops, but probably lose my license, credit cards, and everything else in my purse, or I could say yes, and get my stuff back.

  I’d never stripped before, never even considered it, but it wasn’t illegal, and it wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else, so maybe it was time for me to bite the bullet and accept life’s latest adventure.

  “One lap dance,” I said, looking into Big Mike’s beady eyes.

  “Five.”

  “One.”

  “Three.”

  “Mike, seriously, I’m a widow from San Diego. I’ve had two sexual partners in my life, and I spend my days in the kitchen. It will take a lot for me to give a strange man a lap dance, in a strip club. I think doing it once should earn me my purse back.”

  “Sounds fair to me,” Ginger butt in, causing Big Mike to scowl down at her.

  “I pick the guy, and get the money upfront for the dance,” Big Mike said, and I nearly smiled in victory, then I remembered that I still had to give a lap dance to a stranger, and no longer felt like smiling. “You can keep any tips.”

  I nodded, unable to believe that just a few short hours ago, I’d been standing in my living room, and now I was in the dressing room of a Vegas strip club. Ricky would lose his mind.

  “Ginger will get you made up. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”

  Big Mike left the room, and I followed Ginger, dragging my feet the whole way.

  “Can I get a drink?” I asked Ginger’s retreating back.

  “Sure thing.”

  Chapter 3

  I was going to throw up.

  I was in the bathroom kneeling on my T-shirt, bent over the toilet bowl, as the contents of my stomach revolted. When I’d expelled everything, and was in the middle of the unfortunate act of dry heaving, I felt a warm hand rubbing circles on my back.

  “You okay, Belle?” Ginger asked.

  I guess the combination of nerves and Long Island Iced Teas did not mix.

  I took a deep breath, willing the dry heaving to be over. When I felt confident that I could speak without heaving, I replied, “Sorry I messed up my makeup.”

  “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll get you fixed up.”

  I stood on shaky legs, grabbing my shirt and shaking it out, before going to the sink and turning on the water.

  “Here.” Ginger thrust a packaged travel-sized toothbrush at me, complete with tiny toothpaste. “I thought you could use this.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Ginger, thanks,” I took the brush and paste gratefully, then spent a few minutes cleaning my mouth. When I was done, I went back into the dressing room, where Ginger was waiting for me.

  I sat back in the seat that I’d occupied for the last hour, while she transformed me from I’ve-been-traveling-all-day-in-yoga-pants lady, to I’m-going-to-make-you-come-in-your-pants lady.

  Ginger was a magician.

  Before nerves and the need to vomit had overcome me, I’d been amazed at the transformation she’d been able to perform.

  My hair was in big, long, glossy curls, and looked full and sexy. My eyes were catlike, the green in my hazel eyes highlighted, and my lips looked full and shockingly red.

  I looked like a real stripper.

  Once she touched up the areas I’d messed up, she brought me a sweet-looking summer dress and a G-string.

  “Don’t worry, the string
is new, just out of the package,” Ginger assured me as I looked at the underwear in horror. “I figured this dress would work for the sweet, untouched image that Big Mike is going for, plus you’ll probably feel more comfortable if you at least start out in regular clothes.”

  I nodded as she handed me the clothes.

  “So,” she began, turning the chair so that she was standing directly in front of me. “When you go into the private room, he’ll be in a chair, or on the couch. Your performance should begin as soon as you enter the room. First, walk slowly, purposefully, your eyes locked on him. You can look him up and down, your face conveying that you like what you see, that you think he’s hot … Even if you don’t, but always bring your eyes back to him and maintain eye contact. Once you get a few feet away, touch yourself. Push your hair back off your shoulders, run a hand down your body, casually brushing against your breasts, but not lingering. Tease him.” Ginger began to mimic her instructions as she spoke. She walked up to my chair, stopping once our legs were close enough to touch. “The music will begin, then, do what feels natural. Let the rhythm flow through you, and move.” Ginger started swaying to an imaginary beat. Her hands roaming, pausing to cup her breasts and lift them, before trailing down and along her stomach.

  I began to get uncomfortable, and was sure I was blushing, but Ginger kept talking. And moving.

  “When you can tell he’s turned on, and you’re ready, straddle him.” She put her hands on my shoulder, leaning in so her hair brushed across me, as she lifted herself up and over me. She kept her hand on my shoulder, but pulled back enough to look down at me, then she began to move. “Be careful to get close enough that he can feel the heat of your body, without actually touching him. The guys aren’t allowed to touch us, Big Mike will make sure of that, but you want to give them the illusion of sex.” Ginger began to writhe back and forth, swaying her hips and causing her breasts to bounce perilously close to my face.

  I suddenly realized this was the most action I’d had in twelve months.

  “I’ve got it,” I said hoarsely. I cleared my throat and looked into Ginger’s eye and repeated, “I’ve got it. You can get off.”

  She looked hurt at my rebuff and quickly got off my lap.

  “Thanks, Ginger,” I said softly, hoping to appease her. I started changing clothes quickly, before anyone could walk in and see me. “You really helped me a lot. I’ll do it just like you showed me.”

  At my words, her face cleared, and her sweet smile returned.

  I was about to ask her how old she was and how long she’d been working here, when a big bouncer type walked into the room, pointed at me, and said, “Big Mike wants you out front. You’re up.”

  I turned widened eyes to Ginger, who was smiling encouragingly at me.

  “You’ll be fine,” she assured me. “It’s just one dance.”

  I took a deep breath and stood, squeezing her hand gently, before following the unnamed bouncer out into the club. Big Mike was waiting at the end of the bar, so I walked right up to him, and hoped he couldn’t hear my terrified heart beating its way out of my chest.

  “I found the perfect guy, Belle,” Big Mike said, putting a beefy hand on my shoulder. “He’s in room two. Clean cut, youngish guy. Green as you are … Shouldn’t be too much of a hardship.” He squeezed my shoulder and leaned in little closer to my face. “I already got his money, so don’t chicken out. Once it’s over, Ginger will have your purse, and we’re square.”

  He handed me a glass with what looked like two shots of whiskey in it, and I knocked it back eagerly, wincing as the burn slithered down my throat.

  Once I had it down and my watery eyes began to clear, I nodded, worried if I opened my mouth to speak, vomit would spew out.

  Big Mike waved his hand, indicating I should follow the bouncer, so I quickened my pace to keep up.

  We stopped outside a closed door with a large 2 on the front, then the bouncer turned to me and said, “Music will start in one minute,” before turning and leaving me behind.

  I stared at the door for a few seconds, wondering what the hell I was doing, and if there was any conceivable way to get out of it, before putting my hand on the knob and turning it gently, as if I could just sneak in unnoticed.

  I walked in and shut the door softly behind me, before turning and locking eyes with the man who I’d be in a mutually objectifying relationship with for the next five minutes.

  I channeled Ginger and walked slowly, prowling toward the handsome man in the backwards baseball cap. He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties, and almost as nervous as I felt.

  That fact made me pause, but when I saw his eyes travel the length of my body, then back again, I continued my prowl. I stopped a few feet away, close enough to see his face was striking, but not close enough to see the color of his eyes, and began to caress myself as Ginger had instructed.

  Suddenly the music came on and I started, then laughed, embarrassed that I’d jumped. Handsome man chuckled too, his grin boyish and very cute, which caused some of my tension to ease.

  The song was slow and sexy, so I walked closer and stopped in front of him, then began to ease one of the dress straps off my shoulder, moving my body in what I hoped was a seductive manner. I felt the heat of his gaze follow the straps descent, then follow my hand as I moved to the other strap. His rapt attention fueled my confidence, and as I moved to the music, the sundress floated to the ground, leaving me standing in front of him in only the tiny G-string panties.

  I placed my hands on his shoulders and eased myself onto the couch to straddle him, and only when I was settled above him, my breasts level with his striking blue eyes, did the situation hit me in the face like a ton of bricks.

  One second, the handsome man was a breath away from a mostly naked woman who was writhing in his lap, and the next he had his arms full of a woman sobbing uncontrollably.

  I totally lost it.

  His muscular arms wrapped around me, as if he were a friend rather than a stranger, and he murmured gently in my ear as I soaked his button down with my tears.

  When the wave of tears receded, I realized where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing. I pulled back, mortified.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said in a rush, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand and grimacing when streaks of black came off. “This was my first time doing this, and I kind of freaked.”

  “That’s okay,” the kind stranger replied, his hand stroking my hair. “It’s my first time too. I get it.”

  “I feel terrible. You paid for a lap dance, not for some psycho woman to cry all over you.” I let out a nervous chuckle, hoping to ease the tension a little.

  He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides, then shocked me by bringing his thumb to my face and rubbing the smudges out from under my eyes.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” he replied, causing me to laugh. “Look, I didn’t even want to come here, but my buddies and I are up to celebrate Jones’s birthday, and they dragged me to this club. It’s really not my thing. So when the big guy said he had a new girl that was available to dance privately, I decided to go for it. I figured it would get the guys off my back for a while.”

  “You promise you won’t say anything to Big Mike?” I asked, worried that I’d ruined the deal and wouldn’t get my belongings back so I could get the heck out of Vegas.

  “Scout’s honor,” he said, crossing his heart. “My name’s Luke, what’s yours?”

  “Belle,” I replied, then came to the realization that I was in his lap, practically naked, and his hand was caressing my back softly. It felt great, but it was time for me to put a stop to it, so I stood up, grabbed the dress, and pulled it over my head as quickly as possible.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Luke,” I said sincerely, then bent to kiss him on the cheek before scurrying out of the room and back to Ginger.

  Chapter 4

  “Want to get a drink?” Ginger asked once I had my clothes back o
n, and was laying the sundress across a chair.

  I turned to see her holding out my purse. I took it and shot her a sheepish grin as I opened it and checked the contents. Once I was certain everything was accounted for, I replied, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

  More so, I was starting to feel that clawing need in the back of my throat, indicating that I really needed a drink. The two fingers of whiskey were not cutting the mustard.

  Ginger beamed at my response and held up a finger. “Just give me one minute to get dressed, and we’ll head out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Literally a minute later, Ginger rounded the corner looking like a sexy co-ed, with her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and wearing jeans and a plain green T-shirt.

  “Ready,” she said with a smile, and led the way out of the dressing room, and toward the front door.

  When we passed Big Mike, he said, “Nice working with you, Belle.”

  To which I replied, “I hope I never see you again, Big Mike,” without a backwards glance.

  When we hit the street Ginger turned to me and asked, “Where are you stayin’?”

  “The Stratosphere.”

  “Coolio, there’s a bar there. Airbar. One of my friends bartends there, so we’ll have no problem getting in, and you’ll only be a short stumble away from your room.”

  “Perfect.”

  Ginger looped her arm through mine and proceeded to tell me her life story as we walked.

  “I’m from Dallas, born and raised. My momma worked two jobs to keep a full pantry for me and my sister. When I was twenty, I took a trip here with my boyfriend, and ended up staying. Bo left me a couple weeks later, and I haven’t seen him since. I met Big Mike when I was looking for a job, and a place to stay, and he took me in. I’ve been working for him ever since. I started out as a waitress, then a dancer, and now I mostly help hire and train the girls. I haven’t worked a pole in two years.”