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Chapter 2 - Alaina

It’s about an hour commute to the club, but we both like it that way. It means no weirdoes are likely to follow us home or find out where we live. By the time we get there it’s almost eight. The club has low, warm mood-lighting all around, and a slow, pulsing bass beat playing in the background, even when the girls aren’t performing, that automatically seems to make you think of sex. The large bar sits in the middle of the room. There are small tables dotted around with comfortable bucket seats at each table. It’s not like some seedy bars that you see in movies; it looks opulent and sophisticated. There are stages all over the floor, either in the centre of the room or against the walls, so that four or five girls can be dancing at once, and no matter where you are sitting, you’ll have a great view. We make our way inside and spot the manager, Joe, and head of security, Zane, chatting at the bar. Joe and Zane have always taken good care of Carley and I. They make sure we have a cab take us to the Subway after every shift, and anyone stepping out of line in the club or breaking club rules is swiftly and severely dealt with. We wave to them as we pass and head towards the dressing rooms to get ready. The place is still quiet but will probably be jumping in an hour, even though it’s only Wednesday.

I get to my dressing table and change into my emerald green silk bra and thong combo, which I know makes my eyes pop. I put hairspray in my hair, tip my head upside down and give it a good shake so that when I bring my head up it’s a wild and wavy mane. Then I sit at the mirror for makeup. I barely wear makeup when I’m not in the club but tonight my eyes are dark and Smokey. I highlight my cheekbones and paint my lips. I think of it as wearing a mask as I’m barely recognisable with all this war paint on, and it makes me feel free and more confident when I’m out there.

Joe pokes his head in to the dressing room.

‘Ten minutes, Miley,’ he calls to me and then he’s gone. I don’t use my real name here; all the customers know me as Miley. I finish off my makeup, give Carley a quick peck on the cheek, and I’m out on the floor. It’s beginning to get busier as I make my way to my stage. There are another couple of girls on other podiums dancing to the same track; we worked on the routine together. I hear the first couple of beats of ‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande, and I close my eyes and lose myself in the music. I shimmy my way up the pole, grinding my hips as I go and throwing my hair around like a wild mane. I work up a light sheen of sweat all over as I climb, then I swing myself down the pole with my legs extended and land in the splits at the bottom. There are about a dozen men sitting around my stage and I stay in position to allow them to tuck bills into my thong. A few minutes later and it’s all over; I step off my podium to a loud, enthusiastic applause and whistling.

I’ve worked here long enough to know a fair few of the regulars who come in during the working week, most of them just to unwind after a long day, or because they are lonely and appreciate the company. Fridays and Saturdays are more lucrative but consist more of stag parties and the like; they can be more difficult to manage. Tonight though, I wander around the tables closest to my podium, sitting on the edge of the guys’ chairs, whispering, and flirting a little in their ears. I allow them to slip bills in my thong and allow their hands to brush my thigh, and then I move on to the next table. I spot one of the regulars, Brian, sitting to the far right of my stage and I wander over. He always comes in alone a few nights during the week. He is pale, with sandy, lacklustre hair, grey eyes, and has a slim build. He’s incredibly shy and can usually barely speak to me or look at me; tonight, is no different.

‘Hi, Brian, how’s things?’ I ask as I give his arm a rub, which results in his face blushing furiously. Oh jeez.

‘I-I- I’m good thanks,’ he manages to stutter at me while looking mostly at the table. I perch myself so that my right butt cheek is pressed closer to him. He looks up at me and oh no, puppy eyes. He manages with trembling hands to slip a twenty into my thong, I give him a wink and a smile in thanks, and make my way to another table. The night continues this way, with a few more numbers on the podium in between, and before I know it, its 2am and time to call it a night.

By the time Carley and I get home it’s almost 3am and we are both exhausted. It’s been a decent night and we each made around $600, but right now all I care about is sleep. With a mumbled goodnight to each other, we head to our rooms for showers. I let the hot spray wash away all the sweat and makeup. I stumble my way through to my bed. Between the 5inch heels and the dancing my calves and thighs are killing me. I collapse into bed and I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

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