Hello, this is based on Fifty Shades of Grey, but the story and the characters have little to do with it, except the physicals and some phycology's similarities.
Any way, hope you enjoy it.
Anastasia P.O.V
The dim in the club always let my eyes conflicted, it takes me an extra second to adjust to the lighting; the music is really loud, but I'm not even capable of identify the artist all I ear is noise and my ears just feel numb towards it, I'm too much accustomed to notice it.
It's a packed night, that's for sure, I can see expression of pure happiness - all of them fake of course - but none of that seem to matters to the clients, they just want to have a great time, see pretty women, drinks some alcohol and have fun with their buddies; yes, all they see in us is an accessory to their own amusement, just something to fulfill their entertainment, a little piece of meat, candy for their eyes exclusively for their pleasure, for their sight. They don't care if we are here because we have little kids at home that need nourishment or if we don't have a family and need to survive on our own or if we are illegal immigrants that just happen to be conduct to this place and forced to work in here... Nop, none of that really matters as long as we just stand here looking hot as hell, shaking our body, rubbing ourselves against disgusting bulges and don't ruin their little fantasies, yep... Pretty much how it works.
Yes, I'm a stripper and I don't always have this passive-aggressive anger inside me, but some nights I'm just a bit more irritated than others; why do I even do this? Long story, guess I can categorized me as someone who really doesn't have anyone and needs to make a living, so I definitely found here my own income. It's not as bad I as put, I can confess that much, a least not in here where I work; bosses aren't pushy people and treat us all okay, never pushing anyone to prostitution - even though a lot of girls do it from their free will; the club is nice - more specifically a club for the rich society to come and have fun; and our work schedule isn't any kind of exploration either.
I work every day from eleven pm to four am - though let me just tell you it never truly ends at four, Sundays we are closed and every girl get one rotating night off during the week, the money is very good so all and all things just aren't so bad. I guess it just pissed me off see this elitist group of men looking at us, appreciating our bodies, trying to make us fulfill all their fantasies and still think of us as the scumbag of society, like they are just so much better them us that they give as their own money almost for pity, almost trying to rub it on our face how much better they are because of the crazy amount of money they can take out of their pocket and throw at us, showing us that they live the perfect live, with the perfect family, perfect house, perfect cars, perfect empire, perfect self - expect of course none of that is perfect and we see right through their bullshit.
That's way I have the most unbreakable rule as long as can remember: never, ever sleep with any client. I may very well have to take my clothes and show my body but I have some dignity and I'm the one that decides to whom I share my intimacy and bed. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a totally innocent person, I'm a full grown woman who can enjoy sex and there's plenty of temptation going on around here, but I always manage to get a hold on myself and not succumb to any of that, the whole thing of not spiting where you eat and so on; plus it's just necessary for these men to open their mouth for my libido to go kill itself by the amount of ignorance that comes out of it. Always trying to objectifying us, always trying to make us feel like we are just something they just can take home (well, usually its hotels), use and abuse and get rid off when they had enough, like that's just what we are meant to be, some toy.
But here we where, the club is incredibly packed I guess it must be happening some kind of celebration, but I don't pay much attention to it since I'm starting to get ready for my performance. Every girl gives a show on the pole, there is a lot of secondary poles trough out the divisions, but I'm talking about the one that's right in the center of room, I'm talking about the main show; there's always two or three of them during one night, from different girls depending on the requests from our viewers.
In the benign, when I started working in here, these shows terrified me. I felt very ashamed, all eyes set on me, analyzing my moves, watching me expectantly with greedy and lustful stares, it made me feel uncomfortable and self-conscious of my own skills even though nobody wanted nothing more than for me to continue doing what the hell I was doing. Eventually I started to enjoy it, to feel more confident and I grew accustomed to it and started doing it every now and then. It most certainly helped the fact that I was being requested more frequently than any other girl if I may be honest; and with the passage of time I start to be called for it every night and now, I just love it.
When I'm on the main pole, it's just me and the music, nothing really matters and that's why I like it so much, not because of the compliments I get or the looks from the men watching or even the amazing tips I get, no it really is because I just feel like I'm in a world of my own. I feel I can disconnect from everything and I give the best show it can possible be given, not for the clients in the audience but for someone who only exists in my mind; someone who's not only looking at my tits and ass, but at my femininity, at my whole body as an epitome's of the female form, as a little piece of art that it is there not only to get a man an hard-on but to provide the most erotic performance that is able to seduce the mind first and for most before it gets to the body. It helps me get trough my work and it helps me feel good with myself, like I'm not just some vulgar girl who's selling their body for dollars but some respected and admired performer.
So, this person that I imagine I dance for doesn't really exist, I least I thought so until I stepped in the stage tonight. I started my dance, on my own rhythm, not even notice the whistles and winks and kisses that were being send to me, I don't really care about it I'm shut down and just look for the vague space between sits imagining my mysterious man as usual, nothing really different going on until I glance at the most beautiful and hypnotic grey eyes I'd ever seen in my entire life.
I felt almost sick with that fix stare that I was getting and try so very hard to look any other way but I just couldn't, it felt like I was trapped in that grey sea, that was just mesmerizing, that felt like a storm and yet had the almost calmness and control to it; it was disturbing, during the whole time his eyes never leave mine, never once looked at my almost naked body, like that didn't even matter, like my boobs and legs where not the attraction in here.
I don't remember ever feel so vulnerable, it wasn't like the feelings I would get when I first started – the shame, the self-consciousness – no I just felt exposed like I never felt before. I didn't even notice his face I was so caught on in the eyes. When I heard the music stopped, I felt conflicted I needed to get the hell out of here and calm myself down but at the same time I just wanna to keep dancing to this mysterious eyes that just so happen to made my fantasies real.
Fortunately I managed to get a hold on myself and leave the stage in one piece the fastest I could, strippers aren't allowed to drink during work time and I never felt the urge to break that rule, but tonight I just needed a freaking shot of tequila, or maybe two.
When that was checked, I was still holding on to the bar when I felt a hand grabbing my shoulder. I felt shivers up and down my spine I didn't see who it was but my mind just flick to the pair of grey eyes that I saw and I felt almost dizzy, was it he? Who was this person? How in the hell was he able to make me feel like that just by looking at me? What would I do, did I wanna know who's this mysterious man might be, but then… No, I could not break the rule! Maybe it would be better if I just said a polite hello and scape while I can, would I manage to do that?
I finally got the guts to turn around and see to whom it belong the hand that was still holding on to my shoulder… Well, here goes nothing.
