At my entrance, Soldier boy stood and walked towards me. I closed the door; whether it was to gain more privacy or to make him stay I have no idea. But as soon as the door closed, I turned back around and looked up, for soldier boy was not even two feet in front of me and he was at least six' one" to my five' two".

"I thought you left." I whispered, before I could stop myself.

He shook his head and placed my mask, which I didn't realize he still had, into my shaking hands. My fingers curled around it tightly, like it was my life line, before I said, "You were supposed to keep it… Think of it as a memento that will make you come back to see me."

I started to hand it back, but soldier boy had other ideas. He leaned in and surprised me by speaking, "I'm in no need of a memento, for I will never be able to forget you. However, it appears that you are in need of one, to remind yourself that this is something you do not wish to continue to do."

His voice was captivating. It had a southern drawl to it that would make any lucky girl faint over his cowboy boots and follow him around, like the cattle I'm sure he raises. But on top of that the way he said something, instantly through me into the time of Jane Eyre, and made me wish I had more clothing on in his old fashioned presence. That is until I finally gripped a comprehension on what he said.

"What makes you think I want to stop?" I answered a little louder than a whisper, but still a little quieter than my normal voice.

"Trust me you do." He nodded, confidently. "I saw the rejection fill your eyes, as I walked away from you. I knew that you were not used to that feeling, for it is quit easy for a siren like you to drag in men by their knees. I also know that you are in the mind of an innocent, that you aren't thinking about these men's sexual needs, you are only thinking about the money they bring to feed you and keep you healthy, which they are doing a poor job of by the size of your ribs peeking out of your costume."

"Which also begs the question," he leaned into my face and whispered, "how old are you, little girl?"

I straightened up and snapped into my character, I reserve only for my clients, before answering, "How old do you want me to be?"

"Ah even more proof of your innocence, as you quote a line from Julia Robert's fairytale of the prostitute. Tell me," he asked, "is that what you are waiting for? To be swept off your feet by some rich man looking to be laid, and taken care of for the rest of your life?"

"I don't need to be 'taken care of'" I snapped, anger fueling my next words, "I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you very much. And if you are here to insult me and my line of work, save it, for I already have my preacher neighbors to do that for you."

I turn to leave, but a hand shot out and placed itself on the door, "Clearly, I have crossed a line. I apologize, for I had not meant to. I only wish to understand you a bit more. Perhaps if we sat down and…"

"I'd rather stand." I interrupted before shaking my head, "And as for understanding me, it appears that you already have a good idea of what I'm like. I'm here to dance exotically, not to find a husband. To answer truthfully, if I did meet a man at my club, I would never be his, for I know that he only likes the sight of me bare and not the personality I possess. Now if we are quite finished with all the chit chat, I'd like to get back to my job now."

"Very well," he said leaning into me, forcing my eyes to connect with his blue ones, which until now I had not noticed the small specks of gold he had as well. "But my time is not yet up, for I have asked for you for the rest of your shift."

I balked as I know that that price is extremely high, almost seven hundred bucks in one setting, "Why? Why would you pay for that time, if you only wished to converse with me? I know you don't like my dancing, so why…"

"I never said I didn't like your dancing." He interrupted my questioning, "I only hate that you do it for other men, especially at your age. You look like you are at the ripe age of sixteen, and yet you seemed so experienced with your profession that you would think this is your fifth year of doing it."

Well he was almost right.

"I am not sixteen," I say.

"Then how old are you, because I know you are not eighteen" he asked.

I sighed, "Now we are back to the age thing. Look are you some undercover cop or something? You asking me all these questions are making me uncomfortable."

"No," he replied, "I'm not a cop. What is your name?"

"Izzy Bells." I answer automatically.

"Not your… dancer name. Your real name?" he said

"That, sir, is a question you may not ask. For all I know you could be some creepy, stalker, psycho person, that will look me up all over the internet until you find out where I live." I said.

"I'm not creepy." He answers shortly.

"No, I suppose you're not." I whisper. "Just very inquisitive."

"Guilty." He nodded a curt nod.

I sigh, "Are you just going to ask questions I won't answer all night? Or can I get to work now?"

"You are working," he replies. "You are pleasuring me with your presence as you are supposed to, but if you are uncomfortable you may turn on some music if you so wish."

I look up into his eyes to make sure he's serious, before nodding and crossing the room to turn the radio on. Once the music started playing, I let out a breath of relief that I didn't realize I was holding in. My body instantly relaxed from its unknown tense posture, as my body swayed to the soft beat.

She spends her days in the north park, watching the people as they pass.

My body swayed seductively as I slowly put my mask on

And all she wants is a little piece of this dream. Is that too much to ask?

I pull my top off again and start dancing as I would on stage only slower and more seductive, feeling myself in the song.

With a safe home, and a warm bed, on a quiet little street.

I slowly start to move my skirt down my hips, but I feel hands stop me and they spin me around to stare into gold speckled blue eyes. But now there seemed to be more gold than blue.

All she wants is just that something to hold onto (I wrap one arm around his neck as I grind my half almost naked body on him) That's all she needs.

I was so into the music, that when I felt his thumb wipe something wet off my face, I realized I was crying. Some music just did that to me. It spoke to me and seemed to be singing about me, and it usually hurt and tore me apart, but in a good way. A good way, because for once it felt like someone was actually listening and watching me.

If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day, in those shoes. If I could live like that, what would I do? What would I do?

Soldier boy pulled me to the love seat and pulled me onto his lap. I started dancing there as the tempo began to build.

If I could be like that, I would give anything. Just to live one day, in those shoes. If I could live like that, what would I do? What would I do?

I turned to where I was straddling his lap, wrapped an arm around his neck and leaned back, still wiggling my hips

Falling in…. I feel I am falling in this again.

When the lyrics stopped I pulled myself up and fell into his chest at the final cord, breathing heavily from the excess of emotions, feelings and fatigue I've had for five years. Soldier boy's hands rubbed my back and would even sometimes tangle into my chocolate loose curls that ran down my back.

The music stopped altogether as I realized Soldier boy had the remote to the stereo.

"I can see you seem slightly more relaxed than before." He whispered as he continued his ministrations on my back.

"Music just does that to me." I shrug too tired to stop him, and if I were being honest I didn't want him to. It felt good to have someone touch me kindly.

"I think that's what makes everyone captivated with your dancing. You don't just dance, you put yourself in the music and sprinkle your life into it. It's absolutely beautiful." He complimented.

I sigh and try to sit up, but he has different plans and pulls me back down, "Don't just stay here for a minute."

Instead of replying I lye back down and continue to feel cherished in this small moment. I feel my mask being slid off and my face moving upward, as he stares into my artificial blue contacts.

"There you are." He whispered.

I sighed, placed my head back onto his chest, as I whispered too softly for him to hear, "Well almost."

I felt him stiffen as my thoughts slowly turned to depression, because for once I didn't want to hide. I wanted to show my true self, but I knew I couldn't. And I shouldn't I've only just met this man, and yet he's making me feel like I'm somebody for once. Like I'm worth protecting and I'm safe from everything as long as he is near. But I knew better.

Men never stay. It's a phrase I learned at the age of fourteen, when I saw Jessica cry at the loss of one of her clients that she fell madly for. Turns out, the guy was married with three kids and one on the way, hence why he found Jessica, so his poor, tired pregnant wife didn't have to fill his overload of needs.

After I calmed Jessica down, I vowed to myself that I'd never fall for any of my clients, because in the end I was just their temporary fix from their life at home. And that was the hard life of a stripper. And a prostitute. And a drug dealer. All my house mates had to learn that at one point in the lives that we created for ourselves.

I looked up into the now completely gold eyes of soldier boy, and ran my finger close to his right eye, "Your eyes turned colors."

He sighed, stood up with me still in his arms and slowly placed me where he was just sitting. He straightened up and I then knew that this was good bye. I instantly wished I hadn't said anything as he walked towards the door and opened it.

I didn't call for him, as he left, for it would have been pointless. He wouldn't have turned around. He wouldn't have came back and held me, as he just did moments before. He would have kept walking, and I would have felt even more heartbroken and rejected than I already did. No, instead I put my top back on, finding he placed a hundred dollar bill on top of it and walked out of the VIP room. I stopped outside the door and handed Ben the full hundred dollars, not wanting to be reminded of soldier boy again and threw my mask away in the trash.

This is the sad life of a stripper. It's loveless, hurtful and full of rejection. But it's my life and I chose it. So I will endure it.