"Hey baby, you're on in five!"
Eve rolled her eyes and put down her lipstick. "Yes, I know, Mr. Priver; I've only been here eight years."
"Someone's in a mood today, isn't she?" chirped a voice behind her.
Eve glanced over at Lydia, reclining on the dressing room sofa and reading a fashion magazine. Eve didn't want to dignify her comment with an answer and instead adjusted her bra, disregarding the glitter that came off in her hands.
"You really been here eight years?" Lyds continued.
"Yeah, next month, remember."
"No, don't say that. That means I've been here ten years, and I can't live with that."
Not knowing what to say, Eve stood up and checked herself in the full-length mirror.
"Am I okay in the back?"
"Yeah, nothing'll come off until you want it to."
"Thanks"
She opened the door and reached the wings in time to see the conclusion of the act before hers. Then came the announcement, the musical intro, and the applause when she got onstage. She put on her stage smile; after eight years it came to her automatically, no matter how she was really feeling. She was met with a smattering of applause, which always helped her feel more relaxed. She started bumping her hips slowly in time to the music, then turned her back to the audience as the tempo increased. Originally, she'd done a little patter to go with the routine, but Mr. Priver had nixed it almost immediately, having told her that her voice and sense of humor took away from the "effect" of her act. Not that anyone had paid much attention.
The slow bump turned into a shimmy, as she unsnapped her bedazzled micro-mini skirt, revealing the delicate silver G-string underneath. It garnered her a few whistles, especially as she began unhooking her equally sparkly bra while maintaining the fast-paced shimmy. When the bra was off, she held it up before dropped it to the floor. As the music reached a crescendo, she turned towards the audience, who was always half excited by and half annoyed by the glittery nipple tassels she was twirling. That night, at least, most of them seemed appreciative. The rest of the routine mostly consisted of strutting, posing, and running her hands over her body.
The curtain descended after she gave a final bump, and she came back to the dressing room, after wishing Lydia luck as they passed each other in the wings. It wasn't long, though, before there was the familiar knock at the door.
"Hey, Evie; guy wants to see you."
"Is he cute?"
"He'll do."
"That's what you always say, Mr. Priver" she sighed as she opened the door.
"He's in the back, third room."
She nodded and strode to the room in question, vaguely wondering what it would be like. She knocked softly on the door.
"Come in, baby."
She did so, and looked at the man sitting on the bed. He was the usual clientele, early thirties, slightly scruffy, and smelling of beer.
"Hi" she offered. "I'm really glad that you enjoyed my-"
"Lizzen, baby, I don't got all night, can we just make this a quickie?"
"Of course we can, Mr. …" she quirked an eyebrow, hoping to get some name out of him. She gave him a few seconds, but he was too busy untying his shoes to catch on. "How would you like to do it?"
That question caught his attention, at least for a moment.
"Eh, just the regular way. Like I say, I got places to be, and I ain't got time for no fancy stuff."
"Oh, okay." She walked toward the bed and lay down next to him, while he started removing his pants. Reconsidering, she slipped her G-string off herself. Such a delicate piece of equipment could never be handled by someone who was in such a hurry they couldn't even take their shirt off. She lay in silence, until his pants were down and he was on top of her. He started pushing into her right away, forcing a kiss on her lips almost as an afterthought. A good thing too, considering the way he smelled. She allowed herself to be bounced around, and wondered what movie she'd see that week. She hoped there would be a good comedy playing; there usually was. She'd liked the one that had been on television the week before; but then again, she'd always had a bit of a crush on Peter Sellers, though she much preferred him-
The man on top of her started to grunt, and she gave the little gasping cry that signaled she was having a great time.
In his earlier movies, though there had been that really good one where—
The man came inside her, and she threw in another scream of ecstasy just in case it would mean a bigger tip.
"That was nice, baby." He checked his watch and hurriedly put his pants and shoes back on before digging his wallet out of his pants. "Twenty, right?"
"Twenty, yeah."
He placed a bill on the tiny nightstand.
"Well, see 'ya, baby."
"Yeah." She gave a little wave as he left, and stared at the forlorn twenty. At least Mr. Priver let the girls keep whatever they made from their hooking. Not that it was from any sort of kindness; he just knew that any strip club where the strippers could be fucked cheaply after their performance would be popular enough to make him rich off the cover charge alone, let alone the bar bills.
She put her G-string back on, and went back to the dressing room, grateful that the girls were allowed to leave after one guy. She eased her nipple tassels off with some cocoanut oil and put her clothes on, before checking out with the bouncer.
She walked to her apartment and after making sure the Rent Jar was full, put the twenty in an envelope, along with a note she had written her mother the day before. It was getting harder and harder to find new things to write about, but she knew that even the most boring Metropolis monotony would thrill her mother, not to mention all of her mother's friends.
She took a shower and getting into bed, then heard Lydia open the door.
"Hey, how'd you do?" she mumbled, half-asleep.
"Oh, fine, fine. Got a thirty dollar tip."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Lady said I was the best fuck she'd had since her girlfriend left her."
"That's nice." Eve rolled onto her side. "What're you going to do with it?"
"Buy food, probably. And if there's anything you need, I can get it, if you're hard up."
"Thanks, I'm okay." She wrapped the blankets tighter around herself. It had all seemed so exciting at first, going to Metropolis with no friends and no money. She'd had it all planned out; she would become a secretary and marry her boss. But then that didn't happen. She swore she would only try stripping until she got a real job. Then the swore she would only have sex for money once, just that one week when rent was due, hers and her mother's. Then there she was, eight years later, still doing both. She wanted to blame Lydia, who'd gotten her that first job, but she knew that it wouldn't have been different with any other roommate. There were thousands of seedy strip joints all over Metropolis, filled with girls like her and Lydia, so if it hadn't been Lydia at The Bobcat, it would have been Michelle at The Gold Standard who got her started. Part of her still wanted to go home, but she knew that wasn't an option. It would mean she had failed, it would mean taking a job at Mitch's diner until she was a hundred and five, it would mean marrying someone she'd been to high school with, and sending her kids to that same, stupid place. Probably not even that. There were only nice boys where she grew up, and nice boys didn't go for girls like her. No, she needed Metropolis.
