Fighting Wrath

by Jennifer Miller

  We laugh and then I look at her expectantly.

  “What?” she asks.

  “You never told me what your name was the other day.” A strand of blonde hair falls forward from behind her ear and my fingers itch with the desire to tuck it back in place.

  “No, I didn’t,” she replies full of spunk. I like it, but she’s killing me.

  “Come on, what’s your name?”

  “Why do you want to know?” she asks.

  “Well how am I supposed to ask you out properly if I don’t even know your name?”

  “Oh, you definitely don’t need to know then because I don’t date.”

  “You don’t date?” I ask her raising my brows in surprise.

  “Nope.” She starts banging the end of her pen on her notebook repeatedly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t have time.”

  “You don’t have time to date?” I repeat dumbly. What is it with conversation and this chick?

  “No.”

  “Well that can’t be true.” She nods and shrugs. “Well I promise you if you have just one date with me, you’ll make time for a second.”

  She laughs and looks at the books in front of her. “Oh, you think so?”

  Leaning closer to her across the table, her eyes meet mine again. When I bite my bottom lip, her eyes drop to my mouth and flare. Gotcha. “Yes. Yes I do.” Her eyes don’t move from my mouth as I once again ask, “What is your name?”

  Her eyes remain on my lips, “Sydney,” she says dreamily. “My name is Sydney.”

  My smile widens triumphantly. “Sydney, can I get your number? I’ll call you and we can set up a date and time to go out.”

  Sighing she shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Oh come on. I’m not going to stop asking you out, so I’d like your number so I can call you constantly until you say yes.” She laughs, but I’m serious. When she begins packing her notebooks, pencils, pens and books into her bag, I’m uncertain what to say next. Electing to stay silent, I watch her and wait. When she’s done, she hitches her bag over her shoulder. “It was nice to see you again, Tyson, but sorry, there’s nothing you can do to get me to change my mind about going on a date. You have a good night.”

  She walks away and I’m left staring at her backside, completely baffled, but feeling intrigued to know more. With a big smile I watch her move through the store to the exit all the while thinking that half the fun, is the chase.

  Placing my things in my locker with a protracted sigh, I tire at the thought of another long night at work. I’d give almost anything not to need to be here. As I slowly remove my jeans and t-shirt, I eavesdrop on the conversations around me. When I hear Nikki laugh, I cringe inwardly as I hear her conversation with another dancer, Tracey. Tracey’s nice enough, but she’s basically one of Nikki’s little minions. I don’t pay her much attention.

  “I mean, how dare he!” Nikki exclaims. “Here he is coming onto me, clearly giving me the I-want-to-fuck-you-in-the-bathroom signals the whole night, right? Then, we’re getting it on, he’s got his hands on my tits¸ and he says some other girl’s name! Can you believe that shit? I was so furious. I even tried to keep going, because he was hot and I’m not dead, you know? Well anyway, he wasn’t interested.”

  Trying my best to cover a snicker, I look around the room for Rena, but don’t see her yet. Looking down at my black lace bra and thong, I repeat my sigh. There are times when this whole exotic dancer gig gets old. Yeah, Freddy treats us great, it isn’t that, but it isn’t like I went out looking for a job to objectify myself, or to have guys hit on me constantly. Some women are clearly meant for this line of work, and more power to them. I’ve seen women shine on stage, they soak up the attention and it’s almost as if they bloom like a flower before your eyes under the lights and adoration. I don’t feel that way. I feel like I’m faking to make it half the time. I shake my tits and ass in more men’s faces than I can count. I don’t ever feel completely comfortable and rarely enjoy it. For me, it’s all about the money.

  The amount of money I earn in a week is staggering. I reminisce about the days when Rena and I were waitressing at a once-popular burger joint that turned into a big teenager hang out. That meant our family friendly clientele who had provided us decent tips turned into snotty ass teenager’s drinking water, ordering soup, and leaving pennies for tips, if anything at all. The little shits. Holly, a fellow dancer worked with us. She got hired here first, and was nice enough to tell us about it since Freddy was looking for more girls. It didn’t hurt that Holly was offered a cash bonus for each recruit she brought to him and that was hired. Rena and I stewed on it for a while, bouncing the pros and cons back and forth. Actually, I suppose it was more me that stewed on it than Rena. Rena is more a jump first and ask questions later kind of person, where I generally mull things over for a while. After all, I have more than just myself to think about and so I must weigh everything carefully, fully, heavily. Getting burned does that to you; makes you more careful than you’d like to be.

  During my decision-making process, Rena told me if I didn’t want to take the job, given the money she was likely to make, she’d pick up even more of the rent. Knowing the other responsibilities I have, she wanted to do what she could to make my situation less stressful, and I loved her for that, but hell, she’s putting herself through college too. Ultimately, the idea of steady cash flow and how it would certainly relieve some of my anxiety and stress won out, so I gave in and accepted the job. Truth be told, I really couldn’t pass it up. It would have been stupid. So we went and met with Freddy, danced for him, and he offered us a job on the spot, and we accepted. That was almost a year ago.

  Rena’s face popping up in front of mine shakes me from my thoughts and I give her a tired smile. “Hey, I was looking around for you.”

  “Here I am, tootsie. In case you didn’t see, Freddy has you on stage tonight,” she informs me.

  “Oh yeah? Before or after the queen of dance?” I ask referring to Nikki making Rena giggle.

  “Before, but I really wish it was after.”

  I shrug, “Aw well. I could care less.”

  “I figured as much, which is why I brought you this.” She holds up an outfit in front of my face and shakes it around.

  “All I see is scraps of white. What is it?”

  “Oh, just an outfit that will make the guys lose their shit. When they see you up there under the bright lights, your hair and eyes shining, you’ll rake in the tips.”

  “You think so, huh?’

  “I know so. Go put it on.”

  Taking it from her, I smack a kiss on her cheek and duck behind a changing screen. Most of the girls change out in the open, but I never do. I’m not a prude by any means, they’ve all seen my tits, but some things are just private. It takes me a minute to figure out which appendage goes where, but once I figure it out, I step out from behind the screen to face Rena, and twirl around.

  She whistles and smiles, “Told you.”

  I walk to her and turn looking at myself in the mirror. I’ve gotta admit, it looks good. A white two-piece set that features a very low cut racerback crop top with a high collar. It’s held together by three snaps under my ribs. The booty shorts match and have three snaps holding them together on each hip. My body does look good in it. My boobs are tempting teases if I do say so myself, and my blonde hair and blue eyes are somehow shining against the white. My hair is down and flat ironed straight. I did my hair and makeup before I arrived, so I just grab a lip gloss from the vanity bar and swipe it across my lips.

  “Alright, I’m going to go back stage so I can go out and get this over with.”

  “Good idea. You’re up second or third once the dances for this shift start, I can’t remember, but it’s soon.”

  “Thanks for looking out for me,” I smile at her.

  “No one loves you like I do, babe.”

  “Shake it, babe.” I tell her.

  “
Shake it, love. Talk to you later.”

  With a smile I head out the door that leads to the back of the staged curtain area. Freddy has a large board hung back here where he jots down the featured dancers for the night on an hourly list. The Pink Kitty opens at eleven in the morning and closes at two in the morning. He divides the day into three five-hour shifts. It’s pretty nice actually, especially since that’s about as long as my feet can handle the four inch heels before I’m ready to call it a day, or night as it were, anyway. Freddy likes a dancer to be on stage at the top of every hour. He’s lenient about what song we dance to and what we wear. After we perform our song, other dancers come out on stage and just hang on the poles and dance to random songs, but he expects the featured dancer to put on an entertaining performance.

  Looking at the schedule for second shift, he has me going on second, so I serve drinks until it’s time for me to head back stage and prepare for my turn. Walking up to a new group that just sat down, I flip to a clean page on my pad of paper. “Hi, welcome to Pink Kitty. What can I get you to drink?”

  When I finally make eye contact with the man I’m speaking to I momentarily freeze. He’s the guy that was with Tyson the other night. “Yeah, that would be great darlin’.” They order a few pitchers of beer and while he’s getting the consensus on what they’d all like to drink, I look around quickly seeking out a familiar face.

  When I’ve got their final order, I walk away feeling a sense of relief mixed with disappointment that Tyson isn’t with them. I can’t decide which feeling is more prevalent. I’d be nervous as hell to dance in front of him. And he doesn’t seem to have remembered me dancing for him. I don’t know… something within me doesn’t want him to know I work here.

  Waiting for Russell to fill up the pitchers of beer, I shake out my arms and stretch my neck trying to shimmy the thoughts of Tyson loose. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going to date him, I can’t. So all of these feelings are a waste of my time. Delivering the drinks to their table, I bring my tray back to the bar, then make my way back stage to get ready for my dance, deciding at the last minute which song and number I’m going to choose.

  “Hey, Syd. Whatcha’ dancing to tonight?” Mark our DJ asks me as I appear back stage.

  “I’m going to do “Gimme More” tonight.”

  “Ah, a little Miss B, huh?”

  “Yeah, I’m in the mood for dancing on the pole tonight,” I laugh with my words, but it’s true. Instead of just dancing on stage, I’ll do a routine on the pole.

  “You got it.”

  As soon as the singer’s laugh rings out over the music, I make my move. I come out from behind the curtain and strike a pose before moving one foot at a time down the catwalk. I’m wearing four inch tall platform spiked heels tonight. They lace up my leg a little way, and somehow manage to make my legs look longer. I make my steps slow and purposeful on the way to the pole. The lights are bright and shining in my eyes. I can make out the shapes of those around me, but not details.

  Once I’m at the pole, I wrap one hand around it and let my weight fall to one side. I eye it and take a deep breath, letting all thoughts of anything but the music in my ears fall away. I begin by running around the pole in two circles to gain momentum before I lift one leg and wrap it around, the pole behind my knee, one hand on the pole and swing around. Then I let go and swing around with only my one leg supporting my body’s weight. When I slow down, I reach out for the pole directly across from me and push off of it, which pushes me around several more times.

  This time when I slow down, I pull myself to standing with my arms and walk around the pole a few times, moving my body against it seductively. Flipping my hair by rolling my neck around, I smile out at the crowd not really seeing anyone, just feeling the music. I hear some cheers and claps, but I tune it out. After making my way quickly around the pole a few times again, I use my arms to make my body go sideways and pull my knees to my chest, as I spin around. When I come to a stop I stand, straddle the pole and lower my butt to the floor, then lift it back up again. Turning my body around, I face the crowd, but have my arms grip the pole behind me, as I spin this time with my body facing the crowd. When I stop, I face the crowd again, pole behind me, and slide my butt down the pole then back up again as I flip my head making my hair fly around my head.

  Reaching above me I use the strength in my arms to lift my body upside down and open my legs in a split and hold it before then wrapping them around the pole and sliding down. Walking around the pole a few times again, I dance independently from it, moving my body to the beat of the music, teasing at the snaps on my top. I unsnap one, then the other snap teasing the crowd, before taking it completely off. I hear cheers of appreciation, then do another twirl using my legs. When I land, I do several more spins and moves shaking my body, then pose against the pole as the song ends.

  Breathing heavily, as I head back stage, I can feel the muscles in my stomach burn from the dance. When I hit the dressing room, Rena is there and excitedly gives me a hug, then helps me into my top. “That was great! The best dance yet.”

  “Thanks. I just let myself get lost in the music and didn’t let my brain get in the way.”

  “Well it worked for you.”

  “You up next?”

  “Yep!”

  “Have fun!”

  Heading back to the bar, I walk around and get asked repeatedly to do lap dances. That’s the bonus to doing dances on stage. It gives the guys a taste and then they want more. The money’s in the lap dances they pay for because they want an up close and personal look. I’m pissed when I realize that a lap dance I’m paid for causes me to miss most of Rena’s dance. Shaking my bare tits in some drunk guys face, he tries to nuzzle into me. “No touching, Romeo.” I remind him.

  “Aw, come on, baby. I just want to give you a motorboat. Let me give you a motorboat.”

  “Sorry. Besides, you’re not two years old.” His friends around him hear me and laugh but it only seems to spur him on further. I push on his shoulders to get him away from me, but he’s holding on tight. Before I can say another word, Bruce appears like a magician doing a reappearing act.

  When I smile, Romeo thinks it’s for him and grins into my chest, but it falls from his face faster than bare feet move on concrete in an Arizona summer when Bruce grabs him by the neck and lifts him up. Moving off of Romeo, I give Bruce room.

  “No touching the girls. Get your shit and leave.”

  “Are you fucking serious, man? I won’t do it again.”

  “We don’t give second chances. I’ll be escorting you out now.”

  I leave while they continue to argue knowing that getting out of the way is a good idea. Catching the end of Rena’s dance at least, I’m able to cheer and whistle for her as she walks off stage.

  When the end of my shift comes, I couldn’t be happier. My feet are aching and I’m anxious to cram in a visit to Sammy before I go home to study. On my way to my locker, I see Nikki ahead and almost consider going the other way to avoid her. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, I look past her and keep moving. Until she purposefully bumps into me.

  “You looked like a slut on stage tonight,” she says hatefully.

  Smirking at her, I refuse to let her think she bothers me in any way. “That’s kind of the point, Nikki. Or didn’t you realize we work at a strip club? Besides, I suppose if anyone should know what one looks like – it would certainly be you.”

  “Oh, that’s hilarious.”

  Rena comes up behind me glaring at Nikki and my nose immediately wrinkles getting ready for whatever stink Rena’s going to throw her way. “Considering your vagina is rated E for Everyone, I don’t think you have room to talk.”

  Nikki glares at her and stomps away. I try to let her get a good distance away before I burst out laughing, I really do. But I fail. Giggling we make our way to our lockers together. “You heading home?” I ask.

  “Nope. I have a date.”

  “You do? Tell me
more. You’ve replaced Lenny so quickly?”

  “Well yeah, after Lenny was Joe, but he’s already done too.”

  I choke, “What? Why?”

  “He always made this really weird clicking sound in the back of his throat. Drove me crazy.”

  “Seriously?” I laugh. This girl, it’s always something.

  “Yeah. So, I have a date with Jesse. He’s got dark hair, brown eyes, likes leather. He’s got tattoos and he’s like wicked hot, Syd.”

  “Sounds like it. And where is Jesse taking you tonight?”

  “I’m not sure. We’re supposed to meet up for drinks later tonight.”

  “Well have fun. I’m going to visit Sammy and then head home to study. Which reminds me. Can you come with me to visit him on his birthday? I’m bringing a cake.”

  “You know I will.”

  “Okay, doll. See you later,” I wave at her and get changed. As I’m leaving, I stop when Rena calls out my name.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t wait up tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, I learned better a long time ago.”

  Walking out to my car I get inside, buckle up and wait for my car to cool off before I even think about touching the steering wheel. It’s nine in the evening and still almost one hundred degrees. I don’t know why the hell I live here at times like these. Putting my car into gear, I get going, hoping to give Sammy a kiss and tell him to have sweet dreams before he goes to sleep.

  As soon as I open my eyes this morning, Sydney’s my first thought. I grin, remembering that I was dreaming of her too, and enjoy the fact my dreams carried over into daydreams. Considering the fact I’ve only met her twice, this thought consumption is a little strange, in fact, it’s quite foreign to me. But I can’t deny what meeting her has done. Just thinking about her makes my dick twitch with need. I see her beautiful face, her smile, and her body, all of which makes the little hair on my arms and neck stand on end. Throwing my sheet off me as my whole body shudders, I practically jog to the bathroom so I can take shower.