by A. C. Arthur
“Yeah, but those are not the ‘heads’ you’ll be dealing with,” Eva quipped. “At the end of the day they’re still men paying for sex. They won’t respect you any more than they do when you shake your ass and collect the dollar bills they throw at you.”
Kenya sighed. “Since when did you become so cynical?”
Eva breezed past her as she headed out to the living room. “Since my parents died when I was seventeen, leaving me and my brother who celebrated his tenth birthday two months earlier to fend for ourselves.”
“You mean leaving you to become a stripper just like me?” Kenya added as she followed Eva into the kitchen.
Eva yanked open the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water and opening it. She took a long gulp before looking at Kenya again. “I did what I had to do to make sure Makai was taken care of. You know that greedy Ruby wasn’t about to let him go as long as she was still receiving that check from the state.”
Kenya nodded. “That’s right, I do know. I was there. I saw how easily you made the decision to work at TEASE and make triple what you were ever going to make at that sport’s bar. You did what was best for your situation and I supported you all the way. That money you made financed this apartment, put Makai through private school and it paid the first two year’s college tuition for him. You go to work just like any other person in this world. And when I go to The Corporation tonight, I’ll be doing the same thing.”
Kenya was absolutely right. Eva had told herself this same thing since the day her parents died. Everything that she’d done, each time she’d stepped on that stage as the illusive Eva Romaine, dancing and swaying to the music, while removing her clothes, she knew exactly why she was doing it. First, it was to save herself and her brother from their mean and greedy neighbor turned foster mother, and then it was to give Makai the life and advantages that she knew their parents had planned for him. So how could she stand here being so hypocritical with Kenya?
“I just want you to be safe,” Eva said. “You have other options now.”
“Like what? Get a nine to five? I’m too young to collect social security and they don’t usually pay out to strippers anyway. What else can I do besides shake my ass? Answer phones and get coffee for minimum wage? No, thank you. I enjoy my lifestyle and since there’s no man I deem good enough to allow him to put a ring on this finger and kids are not my cup of tea, this is the perfect life for me,” Kenya told her with a definite nod.
Eva could only sigh. “I hear you,” she told her friend. “I hear everything you’re saying.”
“Good,” Kenya snapped her fingers quickly. “Now, you’ve got one hour to get dressed. I’ll pick you up and we’ll head into the city. It’ll be fine. You’ll be there for support only and when I’m set for the night, you can leave.”
“How am I supposed to get back if you pick me up?” Eva asked, hating that she was even remotely considering this.
Kenya was already walking out of the kitchen and heading towards the door in the living room. “I’ll pay for your cab ride, just be ready in an hour.”
Chapter 2
Eva’s first thought upon walking through the glass doors was that there should be music. Something light and classical like Bach or Chopin would add to the sleek mix of contemporary furnishings and crisp, bold colors.
The receptionist—no, Eva was almost positive the woman with the wide expressive gray eyes and pouty mouth could not be described as just a receptionist. She looked professional enough wearing a black pant suit. The jacket had a single button that closed the material around her rib cage. Beneath it she wore a red lace bra and around her neck a leather collar with a diamond at her throat. She was chic and sexy and polite as she spoke with a faint British accent.
The walls were painted black, which could have either made the room too dreary or—the look that they’d actually managed to pull off—become a bold statement. The spherical shaped white marble desk was meant to be the focal point of the room, with two large red rose arrangements in crystal cylinder vases. There was nothing else, no phone, no computer, nothing but the beautiful woman and her alluring gaze. She held a tablet in one hand and there was a slim clear earpiece at her ear. It all gave Eva the impression of something out of a James Bond movie.
“This is for you,” the woman said to Eva as she handed her a red rose pin. “This should be clearly visible to all the members and staff. It will let them know that you are a guest for the evening.”
Kenya had not been given a pin. Instead she had passed her leather jacket to the woman and slid a black card through a side slit on the woman’s tablet. That was a far cry from the old ragged time clock on the back wall at TEASE.
“Thank you,” Eva managed to say as she took the pin from the woman. Tucking the small clutch purse she carried under her arm, Eva slipped the pin onto the lapel of the black hipster jacket she’d worn.
She noted that Kenya wore all black tonight, a form-fitting dress that fell to her ankles, a dangerously sexy slit up her left leg that ended high on her thigh. Her shoes were black, with straps going up her bare legs. The dress dipped low in the back and hugged her ample breasts in front. Eva, who hadn’t been sure what to wear to such an establishment—considering she wasn’t one of the working women here—had opted for a royal blue wrap dress that accentuated her best parts—the round firm bottom that came courtesy of a deadly amount of squats on a daily basis and her pert, if small, breasts. She’d thrown on the jacket because it was chilly out this evening, but she’d matched it with leather ankle boots with four-inch heels. Her hair fell in a curly tail over her right shoulder.
“Let’s go to the lounge,” Kenya said reaching for Eva’s hand and pulling her along. “Since I’m new I don’t have any special requests yet.”
“So, the men just get to pick you out of the other women in the room? Is that how it works?” Eva asked as they walked through a long hallway of more black walls, but with small white spotlights shooting up from the floor.
“The available ‘hostesses’, that’s what we’re called, are wearing all black. If the members have not already made an appointment with someone for the night, they’ll know where to look to find a partner. Once they make a selection they’ll let the floor attendant—the gorgeous British woman we just met—know. She’ll compare the member’s requests and assure that the hostess that has been selected is suitable to his needs. Then, the evening proceeds,” Kenya explained.
“Wow,” Eva replied with a nod. “Sounds so organized. What if you don’t like him?”
They’d come to a larger room now, this time the dour black walls were highlighted by crisp white tiled floors, and black leather chairs. There were straight backed contemporary seats, some single and double, and chaise lounges placed throughout the space. The entire back wall was comprised of windows, floor to ceiling giving a skyline view of Manhattan lit up in all its glory. Again, Eva listened for music, something classy and elegant would fit nicely here. It would also take her mind off the fact that there were more than twenty men in this room at the moment and just a handful of women. That shouldn’t have been alarming to her considering she was used to a similar ratio when she worked at TEASE, but then she was up on a stage performing. Tonight, she had no idea what she was doing.
“It’s not my job to ‘like’ him,” Kenya informed her.
Eva nodded. “Right. Just like dancing. Get through the performance and get done.” She recalled another bit of advice Kenya had given her years ago.
“Exactly. Now, let’s get a drink and mingle,” Kenya continued, leading them toward one of the far walls where three women wearing all white stood.
“Where’s the bar?” Eva asked.
“Right here,” Kenya said as they approached the women.
“Good evening, Kenya,” the tallest of the women with platinum blond hair that added an unmistakable pop to her all-white attire, said, “I’ll get your drink. And what will your guest have this evening?”
Kenya looked at Eva g
iving her a huge grin. “Tell her what you want and she’ll get it.”
“I’ll have white wine, please,” Eva said before clearing her throat.
There was no bar in sight so she wondered if these women were magical and that’s why they were dressed in all white. Would they pull a glass and bottle of Chardonnay from the air?
The woman nodded and stepped away from the line of the others. Kenya turned away also. “Come on, she’ll bring the drinks to us.”
“How do you know all this if tonight’s you’re first night on the job? This place seems like a covert world that we’re trespassing in,” Eva said while looking around at the men dressed in business suits.
Expensive suits, she might add. Each of them were wearing expensive suits and shoes. They didn’t get this clientele at TEASE often, but every now and then they’d been known to host a bachelor party or some other type of get together for a celebrity. Over the years, Eva had come to notice the quality in clothes, shoes and cars. Not that any of this meant the customers she dealt with during these special events were any less crude or misguided as the regulars.
“They told me everything when I came for orientation. I had two interviews, a background check, a physical that checked for things I didn’t even know existed and even a credit check,” Kenya informed her.
They’d come to a stop near the edge of the windows. Eva sat because the cute booties she wore were hell on her toes.
“All that to sleep with men you don’t know?” Eva asked. She was immediately sorry for the question and looked up to Kenya offering a slow smile.
She was there for support, not to criticize the decision Kenya had made for herself. Eva, of all people, knew exactly how it felt to have her back against the wall and to make a decision that would probably be frowned upon by others. She’d spent the last seven years of her life ignoring anyone else’s thoughts about her and what she did for a living, because that’s what she needed to do to survive. Kenya was her best friend and had been a very instrumental part in getting Eva to where she was in her life. She owed her much love and respect and vowed to give it to her, no matter what critical thoughts she might be having.
“He looks nice,” Eva suggested.
“Which one?” Kenya asked.
Kenya wore her hair longer tonight, sparing no expense for the extensions she often used, and it swayed behind her as she turned her head quickly in the direction Eva was looking. As they both danced at TEASE, they’d learned long ago that appearance was everything. So from their sexy costumes, to the expensive monthly spa treatments—manicures, pedicures, waxing and massages—to the careful way in which their natural hair, and the hair they purchased, was styled. They’d made money off this package, so it stood to reason that they would invest a lot of time and money into it.
“Both of them, really,” Eva replied in reference to the two guys that were not too far away from them.
One wore a modern fit suit that accented his slim frame and the other a suit that may have been tweed or wool that gave him a mature and debonair look. The tall, slim guy was white with piercing blue eyes that brightened as he lifted his glass and nodded towards Eva and Kenya. The other was of Latino descent with his dark eyes and even darker hair. They were both really handsome and Kenya smiled her reply to Eva’s comment instead of actually speaking.
“I’m going to say hello,” Kenya said a few seconds after the blonde lady arrived with their drinks.
Eva took a sip of her wine. “Is that what you’re supposed to do?” she asked while still sitting. The wine was excellent. Eva thought if she had to sit here for the duration of the night having free drinks, she’d be just fine with that.
Kenya smoothed down the front of her dress and squared her shoulders, an act which made her generous breasts even more appealing. She was a butter-complexioned bombshell. Her waist looked extra small in the black material, spanning out to curvy hips and ass, which were her signature when she danced. As for Eva, her waist could be considered small, but that was because she was only five feet four inches and worked out religiously because her eating habits were in direct contrast to the life of a dancer. Kenya hated the gym and preferred her waist trainer, juicer and salads for breakfast, lunch and dinner instead. The word ‘bombshell’ would never be used to describe her, but she had the moves and flexibility that made even her ‘B’ cup breasts and size twelve body look sexy as hell as she worked that pole on stage.
“You know I don’t have the patience to sit and wait for anything,” Kenya said tossing Eva a wicked smile over her shoulder.
Eva chuckled as she brought her glass to her lips once more. Kenya definitely lacked patience. Unlike Eva who was perfectly content sitting here, at least until Kenya had found her beau for the night. Then Eva was heading out of the posh sex den, and going back to her apartment where she could top her night off from work with a good chick flick and some mint chocolate chip ice cream. Makai would most likely be out with his friends. Friday was the one night of the week that Eva didn’t raise hell about him going out. At twenty, Makai definitely felt like he was grown, but until he had that college degree and a good job, Eva still felt every bit as responsible for him as she did the day after her parents had died.
“Good evening. Could you come with me?”
Eva’s head snapped up at the sound of the female voice. It was the blonde again, but this time she wasn’t bringing drinks, which was a pity because Eva had almost finished her wine.
“Excuse me?” Eva asked.
The woman simply smiled, her hands folded neatly in front of her and asked again, “Could you come with me?”
Eva frowned. “Where?”
Kenya had assured her all she had to do was stay there until she was done, nothing more.
“To a more comfortable room in the back,” was the woman’s response.
She also lifted an arm as if to guide Eva in the direction which she wanted her to go. Eva didn’t move. Instead she looked around the woman to see if she could spot Kenya. When she didn’t see her or the men that Kenya had gone over to speak to, Eva’s frown grew. On a huff she came to a stand, extending her hand with the just about empty wine glass toward the blonde.
“Actually, I’ll be leaving now,” she said.
“Please, miss. There is someone who would like to see you in the other room,” the woman replied, taking the glass from Eva who immediately began shaking her head.
“Oh no, you’re mistaken. I don’t work here. I’m just a guest.”
When the woman only continued to hold that smile—which Eva was now convinced had to be painted on her face—Eva touched the lapel of her jacket, lifting it higher so the woman could see the red rose pin that signified her as guest.
The woman nodded and this time touched a hand to Eva’s elbow. She was still smiling as she began to guide Eva across the room.
“I know who you are, Ms. Eva Romaine,” she said as they walked.
“How do you know my name?”
“At The Corporation we make sure we know as much as possible about everyone.”
“But I don’t work here,” Eva said again, more insistently than she figured she had before. “I just came with my friend. She’s the employee. This was her first night and she was feeling a bit nervous.”
Funny enough, Eva thought she was the one sounding nervous as they left the lounge area and headed down a dark hallway. It was in the opposite direction from where she’d come in, which Eva figured wasn’t a good sign. The vibe had immediately shifted from having a carefree drink in a luxurious establishment to feeling as if she were walking into something she would not be able to get out of. With that thought in mind, Eva stopped walking and turned to the blonde, who was, yes, still smiling at her.
“I didn’t come here for this. I’m not…I’m…this is not what I do,” she said in an attempt to say as nicely as she could that she was not a piece of ass for sale.
“Going into this room does not commit you to anything, Ms. Romaine. It’s just a
meeting. When you’re ready to go, you leave,” she said, more seriously than she had said anything else tonight.
Eva didn’t know why but she believed her. This place was nothing like TEASE, where the back rooms meant lap dances and much more depending on how much the customer had to spend. In all the years she’d worked at the club, Eva had never been in one of the back rooms. She showed up for her shift, took the stage, danced, grabbed her tips and left. Staying later to have a drink at the bar was only something she’d done once or twice. Dancing in the sex industry was her job, it did not define her life. She was sure to tell herself that every day. It was what got her through.
A black door opened in front of her and Eva walked through. She heard it click shut behind her only seconds before she heard the music. It wasn’t loud but the effortless sound of the bow against violin strings echoed throughout the room, pulling her immediately inside, regardless of her previous hesitation. There was a soft scent in the air as she inhaled deeply. Something light and floral maybe. Soothing. Her first steps led her deeper into the dimly lit room. These rooms weren’t black, but covered in a cream colored wall paper that glowed like soft gold in the light. The furniture, two couches and a high-backed chair were dark brown leather. The rug was plush, with a geometrical design. The light came from lamps on either side of the room. There was a doorway to what she assumed would be a bedroom. She quickly turned in the other direction.
It was warmer in here than it had been out there and as she stood, still looking around, Eva removed her jacket. She draped it over the back of a chair and dropped her purse onto its seat.
“Hello?” she called out when she still hadn’t seen anyone after a few more moments.
There was no answer, but the music continued to play. She was swaying before she could stop herself. The memory of the classical dance class her mother had insisted she take the summer she was ten years old, as fresh in her mind as if it were yesterday. This had been her introduction to classical music and to the flexibility of her body. Sure, she’d taken ballet two years before, but she’d felt totally different when her movements had been choreographed to the illustrious and ingenious sounds of Mozart and Brahms. Her favorite, however had been, the clever and insanely exciting numbers she’d performed to music by Chanda Dancy. For Eva, dancing to music composed and performed by an artist that looked like her, gave her a tremendous boost in confidence. Three years later, after more dance classes, thirteen-year-old Eva believed that she could dance professionally and that even though she was on the short and curvy side, she would still be successful. Then her mother lost her job as a legal secretary and their household income rested on her father’s postal worker shoulders. Dance classes, as well as other extra-curricular activities stopped, and Eva’s venture into the cheaper and more solitary craft of art began.
