Author's Note: Interestingly enough, there is an article in this month's issue of Glamour magazine entitled 'No One Should Have To Be A Stripper', I just thought that was crazy for it to come out the same day that I update this story. Anyway, the article will be used as inspiration for the next glimpse into the club life that Christine has had to endure for the past 6 months. Please read and review, but most of all, enjoy...

Christine woke the next morning with a slight tension in her stomach. Erik had given her gifts the night before- a fine coat with a pair of gloves and an embroidered scarf to match. Paying attention to detail, he'd had her initials sewn into the scarf ends. She knew that the man had noticed her shivering early on and he'd silently obliged to both have a fire ready and raise his apartment's thermostat for her.

Whether it had been his way to further apologize for his abrupt demand the night before last, or if the gifts had been a tool meant to coax the acceptance of his invitation out, Christine didn't care to analyze closely. What was most important to her was that Erik had taken the time from his day to arrange the gifts for her. He'd noticed a need and fulfilled it. She was warm because of him.

Her kiss had been a show of gratitude, as had her swift departure- Erik hadn't been able to give her the night's payment. Christine was glad- she had wanted to hold onto the memory of a pleasant evening, the money would have cheapened things, tarnished the small amount of peace that she had in her life.

Christine had learned early on that money, or society's demand of it, had a way of ruining the simple pleasures of life.

She lay in bed for several moments, staring at the coat and scarf that she'd hung on a hook in the wall. The gloves were on the table in the tiny kitchen. She rose up from the bad and took a quick, icy shower before dressing for the day. Out of habit, she reached for the worn sweatshirt but stopped herself and slipped on the coat, wrapping the scarf around her throat.

Erik must have been waiting for an opportunity to give his gifts, the scent of his home- clean musk, hint of vanilla mint and man- still clung to the material. Christine left her apartment and hoped that the scents of New York City would not overpower Erik's lingering traces just yet.

Foolish hopes, for she had a very long walk ahead of her.

Tawny had not been much of a girly-girl when she'd been in high school. Sure, she'd dated and gone to parties, and she had worn makeup but she was by no means an expert in the field. False eyelashes were beyond her realm of expertise- her experience was more or less limited to liner and mascara.

"Shit, I can't stand these things," she muttered as she tossed them aside in frustration. Glancing up, she saw Diamond walk into the dressing room. "Hey, you're here early,"

The slender blonde shrugged. "I, um…I know I am. I actually wanted to catch you before we went on stage tonight," she admitted as she took her seat at the counter and brought out her makeup bag.

"Oh, yeah? What's up?"

"Nothing earth-shattering," Diamond replied as she selected her colors for the night. "I was just wondering if you had a dress I could borrow,"

Picking up a brush, Tawny ran it through her hair. "A dress? Well, I probably have something that would fit you, I guess we're about the same size. Oh! I have this great fishnet mini that would look great on you,"

Diamond had been dusting bright color onto her apple cheeks, but she stilled her hand. "I'm sure it'd be great for the club, but I meant something a little different,"

"Different like how?" Tawny asked. Other girls were filing into the dressing room, all the rest preparing for the night's show.

"Well…I don't know. Fancier. Classy. I need a nice dress, you know, something that won't bare all. I was thinking something black and very simple."

Tawny nodded. "A little black dress?"

"If you have one,"

The girl rolled her eyes and couldn't help but scoff, "Of course I have one, what woman doesn't?"

"I don't."

"Well, that's because you're a weirdo. I think I might have about five, and I've been eying a sixth at Barney's. Anyway, sure I'll loan one to you. Why do you need it? Got a hot date?" Tawny asked, up for a little gossip.

Diamond slicked on bright pink lipgloss. "I'm not sure what to call it. I'm going to an opera pretty soon, and I want to look...presentable."

"The opera? Those put me to sleep, and most of them aren't even in English. You should go see a Broadway show instead, The Producers is one of my favorites. If you want to look presentable then it's only because you want to look presentable for someone. So who's the lucky guy? Or girl?" Tawny asked with a teasing edge to her voice.

Diamond sent her a mocking glare. "He is a friend who just happened to have an extra ticket. I might be a pole-hugging lap dancer, but for once I'd like to look and feel like a lady,"

Tawny nodded. "I know the feeling. I damn near dropped dead when this cute guy opened a door for me at the bank the other day. It's the job, it makes us forget that on some distant planet there are still a few decent men out there. Not that we'd ever find them."

Diamond looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm? Oh, I just meant that strippers don't hook up to good guys with manners or steady jobs. I've been doing this to pay my tuition at Columbia University. I don't know about you, but there is no way in hell that this will become my career like it has with Cinnamon. She's 34 years old and hasn't done anything else a day in her life. It's pathetic. I've never even told anyone at school where I work but I think my roommate is picking up on my hints."

"Your hints?"

Tawny shrugged, "Well, I come home every night with a purse stuffed with cash, way more than I would have if I was just waiting tables at night. The girl isn't as stupid as she looks, regrettably. It doesn't help that she's a Religious Studies major either, acting all high-and-mighty over me just because her daddy can afford to pay her rent. Still, I've never told where I work- the only dates I'd get would be from guys wanting a free show, you know what I mean?"

Diamond nodded and silently brushed on a thick coat of mascara.

"I'll bring the dresses tomorrow night and you can choose." Tawny said as she glanced at the clock- her shift was about to start. She moved towards the doorway leading to the stage and paused to look back at her. "Diamond?"

The blonde turned from the mirror. "Yes?"

"That's a really nice coat. He must be a great guy."

"No shivering, I suppose the coat set is working out well?" Erik asked as he stepped aside to let her into his home.

Christine smiled at him. "The coat is working out fantastically, thank you so much,"

Erik shrugged. "Well, I couldn't let you go on the way you had been. And besides, I always turned the heat up for you, add in the fire and my apartment was an oven at night. I think this suits us both better, do you agree?"

Christine nodded and glanced into his living room. "I do agree, but you're the one who still has a fire going."

"Force of habit, or maybe I just like it for the ambiance. Red or white tonight?" He asked as he slipped the coat from her shoulders and hung it in the small closet close to the front door. He'd rarely asked for her preferences in what they would eat or drink together at night, but he was determined to cement a relationship with her. To do this, Erik wanted Christine to understand that he valued her opinion in the goings-on of his home, all the easier to have her become a part of it.

She thought for a moment. "That depends on what you've cooked tonight,"

Erik almost expected to hear her stomach growl just then. "Oh, nothing exotic. Steaks, pasta."

"Then it has to be red," Christine smiled at him and Erik nodded before fetching the correct bottle. He watched from the kitchen as she settled on the sofa, the spot closest to the fire. She appeared comfortable, and also slightly tired. Understandable, given the hour. If he could find a way to lure her away from the club for good, they could meet and part at more appropriate hours- or better yet, they would not part company at all.

Erik moved from the kitchen with two glasses of wine and handed one to her before taking the seat direct opposite. It was foolish to be infatuated with a girl like her: half his age, living a secretive life, stripping for a living and yet she was barely scraping by.

Foolish or not, Erik didn't care.

He liked Christine and wanted her to himself- more selfish than foolish then, but he truly did want what would be best for the girl and he knew that a life with him had to be at least tenfold better than the life she lead now. Perhaps there was arrogance in his thoughts as well.

"Tell me more about your life," Erik coaxed.

Christine looked over at him and shrugged with an embarrassed smile. "Um, well there's not much to tell. What do you want to know?"

Erik returned her smile. "The simple things. Your parents, if you have any siblings, maybe a pet?"

Her gaze darkened a touch at his subtle questioning, but Christine blinked and cleared her throat. "Well. We had a little dog once, back when we were all in Colorado. She was so cute, this tiny little thing. She was mine, a birthday present from my dad. I named her Skippy, but he made me give her away after he decided to move us to Dallas."

Erik raised a brow. "Your father?"

"My stepfather. Dad, my real father died when I was younger, I was twelve."

"I'm sorry, Christine. When did your mother remarry?"

She stared into her wineglass for a few moments. "Dad wasn't even cold in his grave." Her voice was quiet, full of a sudden bitter loathing. "She's never been strong, I think she just needed a man in the house, otherwise she might actually have had to face her responsibilities. Stupid bitch,"

Erik's eyes widened slightly at that, he hadn't heard Christine curse before. The girl was no longer looking at him, instead her eyes were focused on the wall behind him, or perhaps they were not focused at all. "Christine?"

Her gaze snapped back to him, "I'm sorry, what were we talking about? I think I drifted off for a minute there."

"A bit more than a minute. Is everything all right?" He asked, concerned.

She nodded, "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just tired, that's all. You know how people get when they don't sleep very well."

Erik nodded. "I do. Let me check on our dinner," he said as he rose from his chair and went into the kitchen. He wondered over what was wrong with Christine, why her words became so colored with anger just then at the mention of her mother, and what memories could possibly be swimming through her mind.

The steaks and pasta were coming along fine, it wouldn't be long before they could sit down to yet another nice meal together- all the better to take her mind off of whatever thoughts had upset her so. Erik turned to look at Christine as she struggled to stay awake on the sofa. He understood- the exhaustive dancing so late into the night, followed by the weeks of visiting with him were taking their toll on her.

He watched as her lids drooped low and then finally closed. Her head would nod forward but Christine would catch herself, only to start the whole thing over again. Here there was an opportunity.

Erik left the kitchen and moved behind the sofa. He hesitated a moment before allowing his hands to rest over her shoulders, steadying her, warming her. He brought a hand to cup her cheek and guided her to lean back against the sofa. She fought against him with the smallest of movements, but Christine was too exhausted to struggle against him. His comfort, coupled with the heavy tide of sleep, was too much.

Erik's hands remained on her, one resting over her narrow shoulder, the other cradling her face. He stood over her, watching, for several minutes. Christine was asleep in his home now, but this was not how he'd pictured it to be. He had hoped to have her sleep in his bed, beside him, safe and warm. Disappointments aside, Erik lifted his hands and went to the hall closet to retrieve a blanket for her.

He chose a soft linen and draped it over her after removing her shoes and lifting her feet to rest on the cushions. The idea of moving her to the guest room came to him, but he banished it quickly. The last thing he wanted was for Christine to wake up and realize that he'd been carrying her to a bedroom- she'd never believe him even if he told her the truth of his honest intentions. What had the world done to this poor girl?

Erik no longer felt hungry so he cancelled their dinner by storing everything for another night and then retook the chair across from her. Christine was an ever-growing enigma to him. She interested him very much- she was bitter and filled with pain, a mirror of himself in a way.

Beautiful girl, sleep and know that you are safe. No harm will come to you while you are in my home.

Almost as if she heard his silent promise, Christine shifted, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat. Erik smiled and switched off the lights of the living room before retiring to his own large lonely bed.

The fire was still going; he let the flames keep vigil over the girl as she slept.

Erik's sleep had been restless, as he'd expected. One minute he was freezing, the next he was too hot. The pillows and mattress were never comforable. He knew the true culprit behind all this anxiety, of course: he was distracted over the girl. Christine was still sleeping in the living room. He knew because he'd gotten up to check on her several times already, only to find her in the same position.

His thoughts swam with different scenarios of how she would react upon waking. Given the circumstances of how they'd first met, Erik knew there was a chance that she might think the worst of him, that he might have drugged her wine or some other clandestine nonsense. He remembered the anger in her voice the night before- bitter, vindictive, condemning. Erik didn't want to hear that voice directed at himself, he didn't feel that he'd done anything wrong.

At some point he did fall asleep, for he dreamt a bit, though his dreams were strange. He dreamt that he and Christine were trapped together in a white room and to pass the time they told each other all their secrets. Erik shook his head and sat up from the bed. To him the dream only reinforced what he already knew: he wanted to know more about Christine and he also wanted her to truly know him. None of his other women had.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and he stretched his arms. His legs were sheathed in plain black sleep pants while he was naked from the waist up. Erik stood and crossed his room to use the bathroom, then he returned to his nightstand for his mask. Erik slipped the porcelain on, matching the indentions of the mask to the contours of the scarred side of his face.

'It wouldn't do to scare the girl out of her mind,' he thought as he padded down the hallway to find her still reclined comfortably on the sofa, the blanket still draped over her long body. Erik nodded to himself and crossed to the kitchen. He stood before the coffee pot and debated with himself; if he ran the machine, Christine would wake up and she might be suspicious of him, especially as he was not wearing a shirt.

Erik left the machine off and recrossed the living room, returning to his bedroom. An idea began to form in his mind, and he resolved to himself that for his morning's coffee he would endure the mile-long line at the Starbuck's café across from the university where he assisted in the research department.

He thought to himself for a few more moments about what he should do with Christine and then decided that he would do nothing at all. Whatever happened when she awoke would be completely of her choosing. Best if he remove himself from the equation altogether.

Nodding, and thinking himself very clever, Erik went into his bathroom to take a shower before he dressed for the day. He went through the motions of his morning routine very quickly, packing his briefcase with all of his notes and his laptop computer. When he left his bedroom Christine was still asleep, and he could not fault her for that- it was barely six in the morning, the sun was only just peeking over the horizon.

Erik left a note on the glass table before her.

Two hours later, at exactly eight o'clock, Christine woke up with a slight start. For a moment she did not recognize her surroundings, where she was or how she had come to be there. Thankfully, her mind had always been sharp, and she recalled with easy clarity that she was in Erik's apartment and, obviously she had fallen asleep.

Vaguely, she recalled gentle hands, one on her shoulder, the other on her face. Christine touched her cheek where the large, warm hand of a man had touched her. Erik. She rose to stand up and stretch her legs, and then she neatly folded the blanket that he'd put over her.

A smile absently swept over her face; Erik was the first man to treat her decently in months. Likely, he didn't know that, but Christine vowed that she would tell Erik when they next saw each other. Sitting down on the sofa, she tried to ignore the hunger pains in her stomach and she took up the folded paper on the coffee table marked with a large C.

Her brows raised as she read Erik's note- surprised to find that his handwriting was terrible.

'Christine,

I hope you slept well, I did not want to wake you. I have left to go to the university but I will be back at about noon or so for lunch. Eat something. If you choose to stay, then my home is your home but if not, then I look forward to seeing you later on tonight.

Yours, Erik'

At the bottom of the page he'd included both his personal cell number and the number for the research department where he could be reached. Christine mulled over her two options- she could either stay here in Erik's home, tempted by the lifestyle she could never have, or she could return back to her own dismal reality and face all that made her mierable.

Christine chose the lesser of two evils.