Thank you for the reviews and indulging me with this mystery. I haven't commented much. If I say too much I'll probably spoilt it. We're going to team up with Dempsey after this, he'll help us figure this out. *Effing hopes this works as I've never written a story like this*
There was nothing to report when she made the call. She was alive, well and nothing was not good, but not bad either.
It is late afternoon when she arrives at The Electric Lady dressed in shorts and a tiny t-shirt, her nails painted traffic-stopping red. The bag of barely-there outfits from an afternoon shop bumps her calves. She finds Faith on the stage with a dancer called Cristal like the champagne they giggle.
Cristal's hair is blonde today; it takes Sharon a moment to realise that her red hair was a wig the previous night. Her accent is broad Lancastrian and her smile bright. It strikes Sharon that nothing is real in this bawdy show and whilst it makes it harder for her, there is a unity in getting lost.
"I could take my top off about the first chorus?" Cristal checks in, turning her attention back to the moves.
Faith hums unconvinced and looks to the DJ booth, that's hidden by the lights. "Hit the music."
Cristal repeats her performance twice and reveals her breasts at different parts of the song. Sharon finds herself captivated by the dancer's light moves and grace. There's a compelling power in the motions.
Faith nods and looks at Sharon. "What do you think?"
Sharon feels utterly out of her depth and thinks fast. "What about some suspense, make them work a little more?"
Faith studies her for a moment; "Bet you don't fuck on a first date, do you?"
There's a moment when Sharon wonders what to say. Ordinarily, she'd walk out for such a remark; she considers it even though she can't.
Suddenly Faith grins perhaps realising her overstep of these flimsy boundaries, "I'm messing with you."
"Have you done a lap dance before?" Cristal asks, distracting them.
Sharon thinks back to a drunken night at a club with James Dempsey. "Sort of."
Cristal saunters over and pulls out a chair. "It's all fake, but you gotta make it look intimate and special like he's the only man and you care. This is big money, here and the VIP spaces. Let me show you what I mean."
She gestures for Sharon to sit down."Sometimes guys will be too shy to ask, or they might ask one of the staff for you. But you can also do this when you walk around the room…." Cristal weaves her thighs between Sharon's knees and brings her mouth down to her ear.
"Would you like a dance, honey?" She says in a soft voice, dropping her accent for fine upper class tones, and backs up. "Now, it's your turn."
"You want me to do that?" Sharon says, aware her eyes are saucers. This should be fine, and she's confident in her ability to move but the intimacy is terrifying.
"Have a tequila.." Betty shoves a glass in her hand.
OOOOOO
She's been in this life for two weeks. In her apartment the wall calendar is ticked off for fear of losing sight of herself. Each day she diligently practices her dancing. Each night she serves drinks from the evening until the early hours. On Monday she gets to sleep. Her body is bruised from the pole, and her fingers have fledging callouses. She's given almost everyone in the place a lap dance, and her fears are pushed aside. Once they dissipate, her body is free too. She's removed her top several times too; her scandalous wardrobe is no longer risqué.
Now she's on the stage. Her chosen song is blasting out, her audience are the dancers and the lighting is such that she can't actually see them. It makes this situation bearable as she circles the pole and catches it with an arm, and then a leg. The moment to tug at the velcro of the shirt comes quicker than she anticipated, and it is so well-rehearsed that it's a simple action. The move of her hip; the tilt of her bottom towards the audience and the slide of hand down her body is much like dismantling a puzzle. She takes a clinical view of it all. Soon she will flit away, and nobody will know her again.
These beliefs get her through and yet, unexpectedly, she's has relaxed and got confident about her body. Her waist is a source of admiration as are her muscles, curated in a life she left behind and honed in the early afternoon with hand weights. She misses the free gym.
She barely hears the applause as she strides off the stage to offer Faith a lap dance. Cristal watches on with almost maternal pride.
"Congratulations, Marilyn, you've graduated." Danny lopes over from the shadows, and she's surprised to see him there. "You wanna go on stage tonight, get it done with?"
By 2am it's over. It's been quite a night. She's grimy with sweat and glitter and desperate for bed but sits at her station and quietly counts out the money; it's over twice as much as she got serving drinks. The stage was surprisingly easy with the protection of its height and the rail. Lap dances were harder, she trusted her dancers, but horny men were entirely different. When one man placed a palm on her waist, her reflex was to knock him out.
Rusty's giant palm was quick, She had no idea the bouncer was even there. He took a firm hold of the man's arm and yanked him out onto the street. When Rusty returned, as cool as ever, he checked in. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." She was touched by his concern.
"He won't come back. Go take a break."
She seemed to attract the attention of an older man in a pin stripped suit who was apparently well-monied. He threw notes around but kept his hands to himself. A regular who knew the rules. A big shark with money to waste on strippers, it's a reminder that the people she knows outside this life were not as they appeared. Thankfully she's a long way from home.
She finds her little area next to Magic, whom she recalls is a therapist. She's a voluptuous woman with large breasts, a filthy laugh, and kind eyes. They make small talk about the punters as they remove their makeup.
"You got a fella?" Magic asks, fiddling with creams and wipes.
"I'm divorced." Sharon replies automatically, sticking to the facts.
"That wasn't my question." Magic smiles as she meets her eyes.
"It's a bit complicated." She replies. Immediately she thinks of Dempsey, who is really not her boyfriend even if he has kissed her and persists like no other man she's met.
"Ah." Magic wipes her eyes with a knowing smile. "You have someone in mind but he's not your man yet?"
She opens her mouth to object and then remembers that nobody here knows her, and she's no desire to deny it.
"What's standing in your way? Wife?" Magic asks. Sharon thinks she'd do well with interrogation, as therapists often do.
Sharon pauses. "He's a bit of a player. He is a work partner who drove me mad, but something changed along the way. Now, I'm not sure what I feel."
"He works here?"
"Oh no," She realises her mistake and rushes, "Not here - was - but if this doesn't work out, I guess I could go back."
"Do you see him in a romantic, rest of your life way?" Magic scrubs at her eyebrows and looks at her reflection, accepting her correction without question.
"I can't see myself settling for anyone else. They'd be very dull in comparison. I suppose we've been through a lot." Sharon looks through the layers of herself in the mirror for her authentic self.
"So it's him or a life alone then?"
She was suddenly struck by how simple it was from the outside looking in. She got a lot from James but did that mean a lifetime commitment to the man? Or was she simply missing him? Should she try a little harder with him, take a leap and see how it feels. At worst, he'll reject her, or they'll crash and burn, but she'll never know. It seems madness not to try.
That night she falls into bed, still damp from the shower, and dreams of James Dempsey arriving at the club and falling in love with her.
