CHAPTER ONE:

BELLA POV

As I took my place on the darkened stage, I could hear the conversation and laughter of the customers as they socialized with the other girls and each other under the bass of the song that was beginning to play. As the song started to pick up, the overhead lights brightened, making my form visible on the stage. This was one of my favorites, and it didn't get overplayed here, so it wasn't easy to get sick of hearing. The Arctic Monkeys were usually a good choice, especially when the night was just starting and things had yet to pick up. The customers tended to enjoy the sensual dances earlier in the night as opposed to the more eccentric ones that were normal once the night wore on and more people were in the club.

I had been so bad when I first started dancing. I had minimal upper body strength, so I stuck to a lot of lap dances until I was able to get more practice in with Rose, who was a favorite amongst patrons and a pro on the pole. It took about a month for my strength and flexibility to build up enough to actually start dancing on stage. I felt like a seasoned dancer now, though, especially compared to some of the newer girls. Rose was definitely the best of all of us, considering she was here the longest, but I'd like to think I was just behind her. After all, she had only been here a year longer than I have.

The song continued and I kept on dancing, and I could see the money fluttering in the air and settling on the stage. Seeing the bills scattered on the floor made me smile. I loved knowing that people like what I do, like the way I move. There were a few regulars here that liked me so much they asked for private dances after my set on stage was over. There were rooms in the back of the club that had poles in them for the girls to give private shows to customers that wanted them. Sometimes it was only one guy, but a lot more often it was a group of guys, usually for a guys' night out or a bachelor party. We even get bachelorette parties quite often, which is always fun. Women always smell a lot nicer and act a lot friendlier than men.

As the song came to a close, another one started up, seamlessly blending into the first. Hats off to tonight's DJ. I was used to the DJ here on the weekdays, who was a bit subpar. Not awful, but definitely not this guy, who obviously knew how to work the music.

I danced for another two songs, enjoying the rush it gave me as people watched me and flung their hard earned money onto the stage. When I was able to stay in one place for more than a split second, I spotted Rose in a booth across the way, sitting next to one of her regulars and smiling up at me. She sent me a wink and I winked back, telling her that I saw her and appreciated her silent encouragement.

Once I was done, I thanked the men immediately around the stage as I picked up ones and the occasional fives that littered the ground around my feet. As I stepped off the stage, a few of the men called me over and put more money into the band of my blue shimmery boy shorts. It was the weekend, and I knew I was going to be here well into the wee hours of the morning, so I chose to wear something comfortable yet sexy. Most customers had no complaints about my ass hanging out of the bottom of the stretchy material, especially when my rack was on great display in my matching shimmery bra that barely covered my nipples. I knew the top was bound to come off sometime later in the night, so it really didn't matter that it did the bare minimum of covering the goods.

I sauntered over and plopped down next to Rose, kissing her on the cheek as she slung her arm across my shoulders. People who regularly came here quickly figured out that Rose and I were kind of a package deal. Where one of us went, the other usually wasn't far behind, and our regulars loved it. They probably thought we were lesbians, but, hey, more power to us. A lot of men have a thing for lesbians, which meant we were booked together for private dances more often than not.

Leaning across Rose, I greeted the man next to her with a pleasant smile.

"Hey, Marcus, how are you doing tonight?"

Marcus was a regular to both Rose and me. He started coming in about a year ago and instantly took a liking to Rose. When he realized how close the two of us were, he happily asked for dances from both of us. Now he comes in every weekend when we're both working. He stopped getting private dances a while ago, but he still tipped us like he did. I realized pretty quickly that Marcus really just enjoyed our company more than anything else. He was an older man, in his mid-fifties, and he was a widower with grown kids who didn't visit often. Rose and I were more than happy to sit and talk to him for a while when he came in, especially the way he paid us. It wasn't about the money, though. Marcus was genuinely good people, and he made it a great night if it was especially shitty beforehand.

"I'm great, Bambi. How are you?" I smiled and nodded to tell him I was good, and he continued. "Barbie was just telling me you turned twenty not too long ago."

I nodded. "I did, just on Sunday. I'm finally not a teenager, anymore." I huffed. "Still can't get a drink around here, though."

Marcus laughed with Rose. "You're time will come, Bambi," Rose said, throwing me a smile. I rolled my eyes at her. She loved to abuse the use of my stage name. I'd get her back somehow.

One of the other dancers, Tanya, or Sierra, as our customers knew her, walked up to us, smiling kindly at Marcus. She sat down beside me in the booth and whispered in my ear.

"There's a man asking for a private dance from you," she told me. Her long blond hair brushed against my chest, catching the eye of a man sitting in a table across from us. He licked his lips as his eyes zeroed in on the movement of her body touching mine. I internally rolled my eyes, silently laughing at this guy making innocent touches into something sexual. I mean, I realized I worked in a strip club, but not everything had to be sexualized. We were just two colleagues talking out some business deals.

"Have you set him up in a room yet?" I asked her, pulling my attention away from Creeper in the corner.

"Yeah, room three," she affirmed. "He's pretty hot, too. And he looks pretty loaded in the fancy suit he's wearing." Tanya backed her face away from me and winked.

I chuckled and shook my head at her. Tanya had always been big into checking our customers out. Typically our demographic was older men who weren't exactly in their prime anymore. Marcus was definitely one of the better looking guys, with his salt and pepper hair and his lean physique. He kept himself in shape, mostly because of his job in construction. But the kindness in his eyes was what made him attractive compared to the other guys. He was a gentle soul with nothing but love to give with no one to really give it to.

Tanya liked it when younger guys came in, especially when they were attractive. She liked to pay special attention to them and get a feel for how they'd act. A lot of times, younger guys were tightwads with their cash and didn't tip very well, so she'd let us know to steer clear of them. But, every once in awhile, she'd find one or a few that we were willing to tip just as much as their older counterparts, and she'd make it known to all the girls. When she found the good ones, it made for a pretty hefty payout for all of us. Tanya was probably the best hustler out of all the girls.

She stood from the booth and offered me her hand to help me up. I kindly took it and stood from my position next to Rose, bidding her and Marcus farewell. I followed as Tanya led me to the back of the club and stopped in front of room three. The door was closed and I could hear low music seeping through the crack near the floor. The customers chose the songs we danced to when we gave private dances, and they paid according to how many songs they wanted. The club charged a cover that was the same for each girl, but we kept the money at the end of each session. At the end of the night, we paid the club and the DJ their percentage and took the rest of the cash home with us.

"Good luck," she said, waving as she walked back down the hallway to the main part of the the club. A few of the other rooms back here were occupied and I could hear music coming from each one, but I couldn't really identify which songs they were. Sometimes, our customers had interesting tastes in music, so you danced to some really crazy shit sometimes. Luckily, I recognized the song that was playing in the room I was about to enter, so I hoped this was an indication of how this session was going to go.

I knocked three times on the door and a smooth male voice quickly told me to come in. I quickly entered, turning to close the door behind me before looking at the man sitting in the room. I was thinking about what Tanya said about him being attractive and possibly tipping heavily. Clothing was never a sure indication of how a customer was going to tip, but it was usually helpful in determining how much time they were worth.

Turning, I looked at the man in the room for the first time. His uniquely colored hair was the first thing I noticed. Even in the dim light of the room, I could tell it was a strange coppery color, and the strands were sticking up in an unruly fashion, looking like he had a habit of dragging his hands through it. His eyes were closed as he leaned his head back on the back cushion of the chair. His skin was lightly tanned, an amazing feat in Portland, Oregon, where we saw clouds more days than not. He was dressed in an white button down shirt, the red tie loose around his neck and the first button undone. His charcoal grey suit jacket was slung over the back of the chair he sat in, and it matched the slacks he was wearing. His dress shoes shined even in the low lighting, one foot propped up on the knee of his opposite leg. He held a glass of dark amber colored alcohol in his right hand, the glass propped against the side table next to him.

The man only opened his eyes to look at me once I started walking toward him, swaying my hips with each step. Tanya was right, this guy was really hot, with his pouty pink lips and sex hair. As I got closer, I could tell his eyes were a jade green color, so much more beautiful than my plain brown ones. He sat up slightly as I walked over to him, silently asking his permission to sit in his lap. Customers had a choice of lap dances or pole dancing, or both, when we were with them. We just did whatever the customer wanted. They weren't allowed to touch us during anything, but I always asked permission to touch them before I did anything. I didn't want to accidentally cross any invisible boundary.

He nodded and motioned for me to come closer, silently demanding me to dance for him. I straddled him, one foot on each side of the chair. I placed my hands on his shoulders, moving my body over his as a weirdly appropriate song began to play. "Dance for You" by Beyonce began to play through the speakers. I didn't hear the song a lot in the club, which was surprising because it seemed to be an obvious choice for a dance. In this setting, one on one with a customer, it seemed strangely intimate, especially given how sensually I moved my body on his. I was used to songs you'd hear out in the club, songs that were popular on the radio, which was a bit annoying after hearing them several times a night for three or four nights a week.

As I continued dancing for this stranger, I silently thanked him for putting so much effort into his appearance and cleanliness. His hair, though unruly, was well taken care of and soft when I ran my hands through it briefly. He smelled faintly of a familiar cologne, but the scent of something strangely rugged and innately clean was more prominent. I silently thanked him for not smelling like B.O. or alcohol. His face looked like it had been shaven earlier in the day, but now there was a light dusting of reddish-brown hair along his jaw, the same unique color of his hair.

His eyes roamed from my face and down to my body semi-frequently as I danced, seeming to appreciate something more than just the way I was moving, which was refreshing. Guys were usually just interested in the feeling on my hips on their lap, so that's the area their gaze focused in on. This man seemed to be appreciating all of my efforts, even the small smile that I put on whenever he'd look up at me.

As the song ended and the beginning chords of another unfamiliar one started up, he motioned for me to go to the pole. This song was just as, if not more, sensual than the last. I started a languid dance on the pole, waiting for lyrics to come through so I could actually tell what song was playing. As Beyonce's voice came through the speakers again, I realized it was her new version of "Crazy in Love", the one she did for that BDSM movie that came out a while ago. I blushed as I remembered the scenes of the movie that Rose and Alice had forced me to watch with them. I may be a sex worker, but I wasn't exactly experienced in anything other than dancing. Watching those scenes had made my face so hot, and I'm sure my faced looked like a tomato the whole time.

I tried to squelch those memories, so the blush would fade. I focused just on the sound of the music, doing my best to appropriately dance to it. Whenever I caught a glimpse of the guy, I could see he was now leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, watching me intently as he sipped at his drink. He seemed relaxed in the chair, slightly smirking at me when he caught me looking at him. He knew that I was checking him out, admiring the way his shoulders strained against his shirt. I had gotten a good feel of his chest and back while I was giving him a lap dance, and he was definitely well toned under his fancy dress shirt, which was Ralph Lauren. I knew one of those shirts cost upwards of fifty dollars. I didn't even want to see the name of the brand on his suit.

For the next half hour or so, I danced more for him. As the sixth song ended, he stood from his chair, abandoning his drink on the small table. He reached into his jacket pocket and I could see the logo embroidered into the tag on the inside of it. I nearly choked when I realized it was Hugo Boss. Those suits were nearly always over a thousand dollars. Who the hell was this guy?

He pulled a stack of cash out of his wallet, handing me six bills. I was expecting fifties, since six dances was two-fifty and then a fifty dollar tip. I sputtered a little bit when I actually looked at the money. He had just handed me six one hundred dollar bills.

What the actual fuck?

I looked back at him, my eyes wide. He chuckled at me as he buttoned up the undone button on his shirt, tightened his tie, and slung his jacket back on. The sound of his laugh was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, and it made my stomach fill with butterflies.

He shrugged at me. "I like the way you dance…" he trailed off, looking at me to finish.

I realized he was asking for my name. I nearly gave him my real name, but I saved myself at the last second. "Be—Bambi," I said, tucking the money he'd given me into my bra. "My name is Bambi. Thanks for the tip." I chuckled and he laughed along with me. For looking so pensive during the dances, he was pretty laid back right now. Probably because of the alcohol in his system.

"Edward," he introduced himself, putting his hand out for me to shake. I took it, a strange look probably etched into my face. I wasn't used to shaking the customers' hands when they introduced themselves. We usually exchanged pleasantries while I was grinding my ass into their laps.

He must have noticed the look on my face, because he smiled at me reassuringly. "Just because I paid you to dance for me, doesn't mean I don't respect you. I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed your company, even though we didn't speak much." He winked at me.

Usually I'd be grossed out by a customer winking at me, but I could tell Edward was good-natured and just trying to joke around. I didn't feel like he was trying to get more than what he paid me for, which was usually the case with most other younger guys.

"Well, maybe that can change," I told him, shrugging one shoulder. I liked dancing for this guys, considering how respectful he was of the rules and of my body. Plus, if he kept tipping like that, I was going to make him my regular before any of the other girls could figure out how much cash this guy carried on him.

"I might be in next weekend," he told me, walking to open the door. He held it open and motioned for me to walk through ahead of him. I raised my eyebrows.

Loaded and a gentleman. Who would've thought?

"I look forward to it," I told him, laying my hand on his arm as I walked past him.

Damn, that suit is softer than the sheets on my bed at home.

"So do I, Bambi."