Noon drew closer, and the backstage area filled up with shapely women. Jewell bounced offstage and greeted Mary after her latest set.
"It's getting crowded back here," Mary observed.
"Lunchtime, this place turns into a zoo. Every day lots of guys come here for 'business lunch', so a lot of dancers come in part-time from noon until two," Jewell explained.
The extra dancers looked like a security blanket to Mary. If so many other girls would be on-stage at the same time as her, there would be less chance that Mary would get singled out and jeered if she did a bad job at first. This looked like the right time to step forward.
"Jewell, I think I'm ready to go on."
"Really? Rock on, sister! Let's go pass the news on to Belinda. Did you come up with a stage name yet?"
"I sure did."
"Lay it on me."
"Virgin Mary."
Jewell's head snapped back a bit in surprise. She pondered the name then said, "Isn't that, like, a little bit sacrilegious?"
"No, not 'The Virgin Mary', just 'Virgin Mary'," Mary clarified. Jewell shot her another skeptical look, so she continued, "Look, Mary is my given name. And you said it yourself this morning when we were picking costumes; you gave me white to wear because I'm a 'virgin' dancer. Besides, even if the name were a little bit blasphemous, what guy coming in here would care?"
"You would be surprised, honey. I've seen very religious guys and even men of the cloth in here before. With a stage name like 'Virgin Mary', it might be hard to get tips from the super-religious ones."
"Or, it might be extremely easy. After all, what good Christian doesn't absolutely adore the Madonna? With a name like that, how could they not fall at my feet?"
Jewell shrugged and conceded, "Well, whatever. It's your call. Let's go tell her royal highness."
The girls approached Belinda, and Jewell shared the news that Mary wanted to take the stage.
"'Bout time," Belinda gruffly intoned. "Gimme your stage name so I can pass it on to the deejay."
"Virgin Mary."
Belinda shot her a nasty eye, begrudgingly grunting, "Well, I guess it's better than 'Bloody Mary'. You'll be on center stage three."
"OK," Mary nodded graciously. Then, lowering her voice so Belinda wouldn't hear her, she turned to Jewell and asked, "Where's center stage three?"
Jewell made a sour face. "It's the crappiest stage for tips – the one farthest away from any of the bars, on the far side of the club. It figures that Belinda would start you out there, but no worries. Just follow me."
Mary followed her down a hidden backstage hallway to a side-stage area smaller than the one from which she had watched Jewell dance earlier. Two other dancers stood there, a blond who hardly looked a day over twenty-one and a muscular, older-looking brunette. Mary felt fairly confident that the blond was the girl she had observed dancing in the Catholic school outfit the day before.
Jewell made the introductions. "Mary, this is Cynthia and Babs. Girls, meet Mary. She's about to do her first stage dance."
The blond, Cynthia, made an excited face. "No way! I just did my first dance last week. This is so exciting!"
Babs rolled her eyes. "Dammit, Jewell, why do they keep sticking me with these newcomers? It makes me look bad. At this rate, I'll never get off stage three."
"Not with that attitude you won't," Jewell spat at her.
Mary detected some open hostility and decided not to step between Jewell and Babs. Instead she turned to Cynthia and asked, "Could you do me a huge favor? If I do anything stupid, would you please tell me?"
Cynthia smiled. "Don't worry, you'll do just fine. And if you need any help I'll be dancing right next to you."
"And I'll be offstage left," Jewell added.
Mary breathed a sigh of relief. But before she could get too comfortable, the deejay's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Gentlemen, welcome to lunch hour at the Foxxy Laydee! Please give a big hand to our dancers on stage four, Icy, Blondie, and Finola!" From offstage, Mary could hear applause and catcalls from men in the club.
"Next, give it up for our stage three dancers. We've got one of your favorites, Babs, as well as newcomers Virgin Mary and Cynthia Sweetheart!" Mary froze like a deer caught in headlights.
"That's your cue!" Jewell shouted, giving Mary a gentle shove. "Go on!"
Mary stumbled onstage and found her mark between Babs and Cynthia. The deejay announced the dancers on stages two and one, but Mary heard none of it as she stood on the stage, transfixed by the spotlight.
"Mary," Cynthia's voice seemed to come from out of nowhere. "You can start dancing now!"
Her ears suddenly picked up a song with a mid-tempo, rolling bass beat emanating from unseen speakers nearby. She quickly recognized it as the R&B song "Independent Women" from the Charlie's Angels soundtrack, which she figured was as good a song as any to start off with. She began to shake her ass just a little bit, and then she turned around to show it off to the rest of the club.
"Oh yeah!" she heard a male voice from behind her. She had no way of knowing whether the man was looking at her when he shouted it, but regardless it inspired her to shake a little bit harder.
Then she bent over and grabbed her heels, continuing to shake her money-maker. "C'mere honey, I got somethin' for ya!" she heard from the edge of the stage. From her upside-down position she saw a shaved-headed twenty-something man waving a bill in her general direction. She lifted her torso upright and stood again, then bounced to the front of the stage to accept the money with a smile.
"Oh no you don't," the man pulled the money away. "This is for her!" he nodded in Cynthia's direction.
"Aw, thanks, darling!" Cynthia said sweetly as she accepted the five from the man and unceremoniously removed her top. She then leaned down to shake her modest, pointy breasts inches away from his face.
"Woo yeah!" the man yelped, waving his arms a bit in celebration and spilling some beer from the bottle in his right hand.
Dejectedly, and with more than a bit of embarrassment, Mary backed away from front stage and continued to bounce with as much enthusiasm as she could still muster. The spotlight took a brief break from blinding her, and she glanced around the club. Most men's attentions were focused on the main stage, where six dancers now commanded attention. However, about eight men sat in front of stage three enjoying Babs, Cynthia, and her.
"Well, one guy shot me down, but there are still seven to go."
She smiled at a table where three men sat drinking Coronas. One of the men smiled back and nodded at her. She wiggled closer to their table, putting some extra bounce into her chest as she advanced.
"What would Jewell do?"
Mary began tossing her hair a bit. Then she turned around, put her hands on her knees, and dropped and raised her rear end repeatedly as if it had a spring under it. She looked behind her to gauge the table's reaction and realized that the man who had smiled at her was trying to put a dollar in her bikini strap. He was having difficulty, much to her chagrin, because she was shaking so fast.
"Sorry," she said as she slowed down and stuck her hip out for him to tip her.
"That's okay," he said in a mild-mannered voice. "We were kind of enjoying the show."
"Oh, thank you," Mary said sweetly as she turned around to face him. "You know, that's my first tip."
"No way. You look like you've done this before."
"Well, I did a private dance earlier, but that's different. It was a lot easier."
"Oh yeah? Maybe my friends and me will ask for a private dance later on."
Mary smiled. "I'd like that. I'll check back with you after I'm done with this set."
"OK," the man said before returning to his seat.
Mary felt a sudden surge of confidence as she backed up and started dancing again. She had just earned her first dollar on-stage, and it had been all her own doing. Jewell, her security blanket in the booth, had not even needed to help her this time.
"I can do this after all. I am doing this."
For the rest of her three-song set, Mary bounced, shook, and thrust her way to five more dollars in tips. At the end of the set she, Cyntha, Babs, and Jewell convened off-stage.
"Way to go, Mary. You were really putting it out there," Jewell congratulated her and handed her a towel to dab off perspiration.
"Yeah," said a still-topless Cynthia. "I was afraid you were going to end up stealing away all my tips."
"Bitches," Babs hissed spitefully as she turned to walk back down the corridor toward the dressing room, leaving the girls behind her. However, instead of hating her for being so nasty, Mary felt sorry for her as she noticed a complete absence of dollars from Babs' garter.
"Man, it must suck to be all washed up like her," Cynthia said nodding in Babs' direction.
"Washed up? But she doesn't look like she could be much older than thirty," Mary said.
"Honey, in this business? Thirty is ancient," said Jewell. "And plus, she's just as nasty to the customers as she is to us. I don't know what makes her think they'll tip her with an attitude like that."
"Yeah, but I saw you talking to that first guy who tipped you, Mary. You were so sweet to him; you had just the perfect attitude. Most guys don't like to be intimidated," said Cynthia.
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that guy! He told me he and his friends might want a private dance."
"Really?" Jewell looked excited. "Well what are you standing around here yapping with us for? Go on out there and get 'em!"
"OK!"
Mary hustled down the corridor and out into the club area, but was disappointed at what she found in front of stage three. The men who had been potentially interested in a private dance were gone, their half-empty bottles of Coronas the only reminders that they had ever been there at all.