by Laura Lee
I start to back away when the bell rings, signaling the end of the period. Students begin flooding the halls.
“Kat, wait.”
I turn away and step out the door. “I’ll see you in class on Monday, Mr. Cooper. Have a good weekend.”
“I CAN’T DO THIS.”
I’m shaking and nauseated, standing in the dressing room at work. Tonight’s supposed to be my first performance in front of a live audience. I thought I was ready. I thought I had accepted weeks ago that I would be undressing for dollars, but when the time comes, I don’t feel anywhere close to ready.
“Sure ya can, lass,” Shawn assures me. “You’ve got this. You’ve been practicing for weeks and you look incredibly sexy.”
It’s Friday night—one of our busiest of the week—so the club is packed. It was full when I walked in earlier, but twice as many seats were filled when I peeked my head out the door a few minutes ago. I dab my lipstick in the mirror and look at my chosen outfit for this momentous occasion. I’m wearing a red vinyl mini dress that loosely laces up both sides. In the front, my breasts are pressed together, practically popping out of the top, and in the back, the deep V opening exposes the barest hint of my ass. A discreet zipper runs along the side for easy removal. A thick rhinestone choker wraps around my neck and clear 5” stilettos adorn my feet. My eyes are smoky, my lips are red, and my dark hair falls to the middle of my back in thick waves.
Shawn thought my signature color should match my stage name so she’s outfitted me with a complete line of red costumes. Halloween is next week, which she says is a crazy night, and she’s insisted that I’ll be dressed as Slutty Little Red Riding Hood. I’ve just let her run with it to this point because I know nothing about dressing for a striptease.
I meet my reflection and sigh. Normally, I wear little makeup; usually a swipe of mascara and lipstick is all I need. Tonight, my face is painted in heavy stage makeup. It’s supposed to highlight my face better in the darkened room. I look like myself, but older and a lot more sexed-up, which I guess is the point.
“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“Ah, lass, that’s normal. First-time stage jitters. No one’s actually puked on stage.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” I mutter.
She releases a hearty laugh and squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, love; I promise.”
I hear Trina’s song ending and know that my time is almost up. When the first few beats of Ciara’s “Body Party” starts thumping through the sound system, Shawn pushes me out the door.
“Break a leg, Kat.”
“DJ Annie has a special treat for all you lovely ladies and gents tonight. Take out those wallets and let’s give a warm welcome to our newest Princess, Reeeeedddd!”
The song kicks in as I take the stage and the room erupts in applause and drunken catcalls. Don’t make eye contact, I remind myself. I detach from the situation as much as possible and grab the pole. Smile, I chant inwardly. Look sexy. Be charming. Focus on the music and the routine.
As Ciara sings about the boy she can’t get off her mind, I swing around the pole, thinking about the man who occupies mine. When she croons about how tired she is of fighting their attraction, I mourn the possibilities of what could never be. Sliding to the floor in a perfectly executed Fireman, I tell myself it’s for the best. I’m unconvinced as I lower the zipper suggestively and step out of my dress. The regret is suffocating me—of what I’ve done, of what I’m doing. No one seems the wiser though. Now clad in a bright red bikini, my body glides fluidly across the floor, captivating the audience. I have them in a trance as the spotlight follows my every move, proudly putting my curves on display to feed the hunger that thickens the air.
I forcibly numb myself as the song ends, crawling on my hands and knees to collect my reward. Fingertips linger on my hips as bills are stuffed under the straps of my G-string. Since this is my first dance, I’m not fully nude—that will come on the next set. The slower the seduction, the better the pay, Shawn’s voice rings in my head. Entice them, make them desperate for more as the song nears an end. The men will be lining up for private dances. They’ll want to set their eyes on your naked body before anyone else. If you stage it properly, they’ll pay for an extended session. They know they can’t touch you in those rooms; but they can fantasize about it. We’re in the fantasy business, Red. And you’re their walking wet dream.
I’M EXHAUSTED AS I LEAVE THE CLUB, but I made it through the end of my shift so I’m calling it a success. I can’t help but smile as I pull my purse over my shoulder, thinking of all the money I currently have stuffed in my wallet. I made over three hundred dollars tonight. Marcus was right when he projected a new face would cause quite a stir. All of the girls leave together so we’re lining up at the door waiting to be escorted to our vehicles. As I step outside, I hear my name being called. I look for the source of the familiar voice until I spot him standing with his foot propped against the side of the building. Nick, the big bald guy I met during my audition, tries holding him back but I let him know it’s okay as I head toward my friend.
“Dylan, what are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “I couldn’t get inside…the bouncer took one look at my fake ID and laughed at me. I’ve been standing here for hours because I had to make sure you were okay. Bree told me you were really nervous about going on stage.”
I instantly soften when I see his expression. Equal parts remorse, concern, and affection color his face. I can’t even find the will to be mad at Bree right now.
“Don’t I look okay?”
He takes a moment to assess me. “You look…good. Really good.”
I’m dressed in sweats but I haven’t washed my makeup off or tamed my hair yet.
“Yeah…well, I feel good. I mean, not great…but I’m okay. Really. I already have half of next month’s rent. That’s what matters.”
He walks me to my car and leans against the door. “Would it be all right if I followed you home? I was hoping we could hang out. It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone together.”
“Dylan, I’m tired. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“C’mon, Kitty. I’m not trying to get laid. I really just want to talk to you for a while.”
He’s giving me sad puppy eyes again. He knows I can’t resist them. “Okay, but just for a little bit.”
Dylan follows me home and into my bedroom. It’s two in the morning but there are no signs of Cybil anywhere in the house. Hopefully it will stay that way. She’s on the lease until the end of the month, but she’s been staying with Marcus more often than not. Dyl takes a seat on the mattress and holds up the plastic bag he was carrying.
“I brought your favorite.”
I smile as I take the bag from him and peek inside. Oreos, gummy bears, trail mix, and a bottle of orange juice.
“Oh my God, you’re the best!”
I rip open all three bags and begin inhaling the contents as I take a seat.
“That is seriously the grossest combination of food I’ve ever seen.”
I take a swig of juice. “It is not! It’s perfect!”
He laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” He makes a face as I spit crumbs out of my mouth while talking.
I finish one more cookie before deciding that I need to get cleaned up. I smell like sweat and a mixture of scented lotion with various colognes.
“Hey, are you cool waiting for me to take a quick shower?”
“I’d be better if you’d ask me to wash your back.”
“Funny, Dylan.”
“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Well, that’s a nice offer but I think I can manage. I’ll be out in less than ten minutes. Make yourself comfortable.”
As I scrub the offensive odors off my body, I think about what Bree said—that Dylan’s interested in being more than just a friend. I haven’t had a boyfriend
since my freshman year; I don’t even know what that would involve or if I’m capable of it. But I can’t deny that things would be much easier if I could summon those feelings for him. We’re the same age, in the same grade, and we get along great. Could I go there? Would it stop me from lusting after my teacher? Would Dylan even want to be with me like that? What about his mom? It would no doubt put a strain on their relationship.
There’s definitely chemistry between us. It’s not nearly as explosive as it is with Gavin, but really, nothing is. Every time Gavin and I have been together, it’s like two forces of nature combining. It’s incomparable. Like you, his voice echoes through my mind. I’ve already talked myself out of it as I dry off and throw on a clean pair of sweats. I’m not willing to risk our friendship or his reputation by being with him in that capacity. I walk back into my bedroom and freeze in the doorway. Dylan is lounging on my bed, completely naked and hard as a rock.
“Um…whatcha’ doing, Dyl?”
He gives me a sexy smile. “You said to make myself comfortable. I thought you meant, make myself comfortable.”
I close my door and turn the lock out of habit. Dylan takes this as a good sign and perks up even more. He folds his hands behind his head and reclines back onto my pillows. A familiar stirring hits me as I take him in. His athletic build is the type that other girls want and other guys envy. He’s hung too; the perfect blend of length and girth. More importantly, he actually knows what to do with it. Not as much as Gavin does. I shake off the unwanted thought and wonder if I can resume a physical relationship with Dylan and not screw everything else up. I still haven’t moved so he stands from the bed and comes over to me. He grabs my hand and brings it down to wrap around his hardness. Together, our hands pump up and down until a drop of pre-cum leaks from the tip.
“Kat, it’s been so long.” He brushes my wet hair behind my ear and places a soft kiss on my neck. “This tension between us sucks. I think we need to sweat it out.”
I consider my options. Dylan is kind and knows how to make me feel good. He’s brushing his hand over my hip and kissing my neck, as I continue to work him over with my hand. I lean my head back as he pulls me into him and moves his lips across my collarbone. We’ve done this before—many times—and it’s never been awkward. So why does it feel that way now? Wrong even?
I release him and pull away. “Dylan, stop.”
He groans. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Well, I do. You said you wanted to talk.”
It takes him a moment for the lust-induced fog to clear. “I know, but I got so hard thinking about you all wet and soapy in the shower. We can talk after.”
I shake my head. “There’s not going to be an after. Please get dressed.”
“What? Why? I’m not seeing anyone, you’re never seeing anyone, so we’re free to take care of each other.”
“That’s not exactly accurate. I…met a guy. Someone that I really like.”
He scowls and grabs his jeans. Pulling them up he says, “What do you mean you met a guy?”
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory. I want to try being…exclusive.” The word sounds foreign on my tongue.
“Kat, you don’t do exclusive. You fuck them once and move on. All. The. Time.”
“Not all the time,” I argue.
“You’re right; only when I’m seeing other girls. And I’m not judging—I know you’re really sexual and you have needs. But those other guys don’t even know your real name. I do. I know the real you and I can make you come better than the rest of them.”
Not anymore. I don’t think he’d appreciate that remark so instead I say, “Dylan, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to fuck that up. I don’t think we should have sex anymore.”
“Ever?!”
“Ever,” I confirm.
He throws his shirt over his head and slips his shoes on. “So you’ll take your clothes off in front of strangers but not me—the guy who actually gives a damn about more than just your body?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. That’s different and you know it.”
“Don’t you get sick of it, Kitty? Don’t you want someone to take care of your body and your heart?”
I really do. For the first time in years, I do want more than sex. I want it all—just not from Dylan.
“I think you should leave.”
“I’m not giving up, Kat. When this guy breaks your heart—which we both know is only a matter of time—I’ll be waiting. We’d be good together and you know it.”
The sad part is that he’s probably right…yet I can’t bring myself to stop him from walking away.
I’VE BEEN LIVING ON MY OWN for almost a month now and it’s going surprisingly well. I’m still pulling straight A’s at school and I’m doing so well at the club that I only have to work three nights a week. That gives me plenty of time to study and look into the college application process. I’m applying to several different schools in California as well as two in-state universities. I’m not picky; I’ll go to whichever place accepts me and gives me the most scholarship money. I’m thinking about majoring in business which I can do pretty much anywhere.
“Kat, my aunt said you’re welcome to come over for Thanksgiving dinner if you don’t have any other plans.”
“Thanks, Bree. I might take you up on that. I can’t remember the last time I had a big holiday dinner.” Yes, you can; it was with the Andersons.
“Hello? Earth to Kat!” Bree is waving her hands in front of my face dramatically.
“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”
“I’ll say,” she laughs. “So I’ll see you at my place tomorrow then? Aunt Carol said everything will be ready around three.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be there.”
Today is the last day at McKinley before Thanksgiving break. As we reach the parking lot, I realize that I forgot a book in my locker so I break away from Bree to retrieve it. Students are anxious to begin their long weekend so the halls empty out quicker than normal. School is almost tolerable when I don’t have to worry about all the assholes whispering behind my back.
“Miss Kennedy, I’m surprised to see you’re still here.”
God, I love his voice. Every time he speaks, I feel it in my bones. I imagine him saying all sorts of naughty things in that deep timbre, and it makes me uncomfortably wet. Even with our limited interactions, my body still craves his incessantly. Second period has become an exercise in self-control. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to be excused so I can rub one out in the bathroom stall. He probably thinks I’m incontinent.
I close my locker and hitch my bag over my shoulder. “Mr. Cooper, long time no see.”
He chuckles. “It’s only been about five hours.”
“Right…it seems longer though.”
“I know what you mean.” He gives me a sad smile.
We stare at each other in silence, yet at the same time, we’re conversing. I feel dizzy as I study gray flecks in his eyes that are slowly undressing me. He licks his lips and my knees go weak because I know that he’s thinking about tasting my bare skin. The whole conversation occurs within a matter of seconds but it feels like hours. The physical effect we hold over each other is disturbing. The way we’re able to communicate without words is disarming. No matter how much we resist, or how much distance we keep between us, we’re helpless to change it. We attract each other on a visceral level.
I force myself to snap out of it. “Well, I should probably get going.”
He clears his throat. “Right. Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”
“A friend invited me over for dinner.”
“Mr. Taylor?”
“No.” I feel a moment of sadness at the mention of Dylan’s name. He’s trying to pretend that nothing’s wrong but things haven’t quite been the same since that night at my apartment. “His mom wouldn’t let me anywhere near her house. I’m working tonight then I’m going to spend tomorrow afternoon
with my friend, Bree. Do you have any plans?”
“I do,” he nods. “I’m leaving in the morning to go back home for the weekend. It’s a quick trip but it will be nice to see everyone. I promised them I would try harder to keep in touch.”
“Tell Elle I say hello.”
He smiles. “I will. Have a good break, Miss Kennedy.”
“You too, Mr. Cooper.”
I’M AT THE END OF MY FIRST SET when I see him. His eyes are cold, assessing, without an ounce of their usual brilliance. He’s standing in front of the bar, radiating malevolence. I’m so caught off guard that I stumble as I walk off stage. My hands are shaking so violently that I have trouble working the combo on my tip locker.
“Lass, you were lovely out there, as usual.”
“Thanks, Shawn.”
“So much so, that a lad has already requested a private dance. An extended dance. They’re setting him up in the champagne room.”
Thank God. It will give me a chance to get away from that arctic stare. Maybe he’ll leave by the time I’m done. What’s he doing here anyway? I wouldn’t have pegged him as a strip club kind of guy.
“I’ll be out in just a few. I need to pick something to wear.”
I try calming my nerves while I slip a sheer red negligee over my bikini. I haven’t had the jitters since my first night on stage so why are they coming back now? You know why, I say to myself. You’re not nervous about performing; you’re nervous about him. You’re afraid he’s going to judge you like all the others. I throw my shoulders back and raise my chin. Screw it, I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I’m doing what I always do—I’m surviving. Besides, the champagne room is right next door so it’s not likely that I’ll run into him anyway.
I walk through the door with a sexy swagger and recite my standard line. “Hey, handsome. Are you ready to have some fun?”
“I’m certainly ready to see what you have to offer.”
Gavin sits in the cream leather chaise located in the center of the champagne room, named for its color scheme of rose, white gold, and shades of cream. A bottle of champagne is included with every dance. I walk over to the bucket of ice and pick up a flute.
