The night was popping along as usual and as the hour drew near, I sat down on my little stool in the dressing room and began my ritual.  I stand in front of the mirrors, all lined up and bright with vanity lights, then strip my t-shirt and shorts off.  I do it slow, seductive, all the while watching myself in the mirror.  A shift of the hips. Back and forth. Back and forth, until the shorts fall down to my feet so I can kick them away. I gyrate my body to sway like a tree as I peel my tight t-shirt off past my stomach, over the hills of my breasts then finally over my head. Smiling, I playfully toss my shirt to the imaginary patron in the empty chair across from me. It landed with a 'slap' onto the chair and I laugh.  If there would've been a patron there, he would've had a face full of t-shirt. So I stood there bathed in the light with only my nude colored thong covering me. I stare at my body for a good thirty seconds, which, to many people is a long time to stare at your own naked body.  But I'm not ashamed of it.  I can't be ashamed of it. It's the only body I'll ever own, and so far, this body is making me a shit ton of money. 

About 2 years ago, Antonia proposed a business venture with me. Something that would make use of our business sense, but allow us to spread our wings as dance and theater performers. Neither of us was cut out for the prim princess type of dancing. I was, for lack of a better word, a punk. I was a bonafide bubble gum chewing, tattoo-clad, body piercing little freak. I liked riding in cars with boys, kissing girls and breaking hearts.  I'm not gonna lie, I was a huge flirt and even at 25 years old, I'm still a little freak.  Antonia always liked productions like Cabaret and Chicago where women played strong, sexual characters. They were teases and had the whole 'look but don't touch' vibe to them. 

After working for a few years at another burlesque revue in Chicago, Antonia came down with what she learned and told me she wanted to start her own. At first, I thought she was just joking, because Antonia had a million ideas, just never was big on execution.  But after weeks of trying to convince me, she showed me a business plan and the space she was looking at leasing downtown. That whole day I remembered staring at her, convinced that some alien must've taken over my BFF's body. 

After my father passed away, I got an inheritance that my mother put into a trust fund until I turned 18. I used a little for college, but I am my father's daughter. So I took the rest and invested it, making myself a little change as I went to school. Now, I'm not flush with cash, but I'm comfortable. Rent's always paid, I have a nice car and I make a great living.  

I had tons of estranged family and friends hit me up when I turned 18 about investing in some weird endeavor or other. Some just boldly asked for money, so I was pretty desensitized to it by the time Antonia came around.  But after that day, she appealed to not only my entrepreneurship, but my passion to entertain.

A lot of folks will tell you, it's not wise to do business with your friends. But honestly, I couldn't imagine saying yes to anyone else. She was my sister from another mister.

Staring at myself, I flinch as the door burst open and Antonia rushes in. "Shit, Charlie! Why aren't you dressed yet? You seen Bobbie?" She asked looking past my nakedness to the back wall of vanities. "She hasn't showed and she's part of the number after you."

I grab my under bust corset and pull it taunt around my waist, shaking my girls away so I can fasten it properly. "I haven't seen her back here yet. But when we went through rehearsal, she did say she would be here." I grab the black tape and pull some strips off. "I wouldn't worry, my number lasts a bit and should give her time if she's late." I fashion the strips carefully in an "X" over my nipples and areola, smoothing it on firmly so it didn't peel away. 

Antonia sighed. "One day, we are going to switch jobs, dammit."

"What are you talking about? I dance, do the promotions and recruiting the girls."

"Yeah, but I MC, do the outside bookings, accounting and stage direction. Maybe I wanna dance?"

I laughed as I sat down on the stool and rolled up my black and white striped thigh highs. "You wanna take my place, Toni? I don't mind doing the stage directions and MC if you want." I playfully bit my tongue at her.

Antonia gave me a smirk. "You know damn well I don't have the tits to dance anymore and I hate doing promotions."

I pouted with sympathy. "Toni, you have great tits."

She fanned me away. "You just say that cause I'm your friend. I have humongous areolas. There's no way I can just tape those fuckers up and you know it."

"You didn't do it before," I mused. "You just wore a sexy demi bra and the patrons did not seem to mind. Wink, wink." 

Antonia blew me a raspberry and passed me the private dance card request. "That guy is back again. Requesting a private dance."

I smiled as I gently took the card and slipped it between my garter. I knew exactly who she was referring to. 

He was who I referred to as "the gentleman". Every girl has a regular or a couple of regulars that continue to patron them. I have one as well. He never requested a private dance from anyone else but me. Even when Antonia would offer him a free dance when I happened to be out traveling or sick. It had to be me or else he would leave.  I got tons of shit from the girls and Antonia about him, but regardless of their jesting, I found him utterly intriguing. He wasn't much of a talker. At first, it drove me crazy, just curious of what he was thinking. Until time passed, and our encounters became sort of a routine, the only thing that changed was the days he would pop in. I never knew when to expect him, but I always knew eventually, I'd get the familiar dance request card passed to me.

Antonia shrugged. "Do you even know his name yet?"

I shook my head. "Nope. He's not much of a talker and honestly I never asked him.  I don't think he wants to divulge that kinda information. He looks like a William or Brandon, I'm guessing." I wish I could say that I didn't mind, but I did.  I've entertained countless men. Many I barely remembered their faces as they grinned, jeered and ogled at my body, but "the gentleman" was different. Always dressed in a suit, his handsome face, clean-shaven, his presence held an air of intensity and class. I never saw what he came in, but some of the girls said he drove a Maserati. I wasn't surprised. He was very generous with his money when he came.  Though we catered to all types of patrons, he really didn't seem to fit among the slew of people that typically frequent our place. I was terribly attracted to him, but my better senses just couldn't allow me to break the rules. Patrons were off limits--simple as that. But, it didn't mean I couldn't wear out my vibrator at home thinking about him, which I kinda did. 

"I'd watch out for him. The quiet ones are usually the weirdos," Antonia warned.

I brushed my hair back and began to carefully line my lips with my favorite raspberry ombre shade. Smacking my lips, I winked at her. "You know I like my men a little bit weird."

Antonia scoffed out a laugh. "Girl, I'm so done with you." She tapped on the counter. "You're on in fifteen."

"Thanks, I'll keep a look out for Bobbie." As Antonia exited the dressing room, I sat down to lace up my boots, lacing until I felt them snug against me. I finally stood up and examined myself in the long antique mirror that has been in my family forever.  Completing my nightly ritual, I rubbed fragrance  over my throat and breasts, shook my flaming red hair loose and blew a kiss. 

Just as I was heading out the door, I crashed into a frantic woman with wet, blonde hair. Stepping back, I immediately recognized it as Bobbie. She was still in her waitress clothing from that  local burger joint chain. "Bobbie! Glad you're here. Antonia was looking for you."

She shook her head, her eyes watery with distress. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. Some asshole bailed out early and the manager had to make me stay after." She wiped her eyes. "I tried to tell him I had to go. I was late to pick up little man from daycare and--"

I put my hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Bobbie, Bobbie calm down. It's alright doll. No harm done." When she blew out a nervous sigh and wiped her eyes, I continued. "Just next time if you get bogged down like that, just call Tony, alright?  We can switch stuff around if we know a little bit beforehand. 

Bobbie nodded and made an attempt to smile. "Thanks so much, Charlie. I'm so sorry."

I leaned against the door frame, even as I heard the music from the last number start to draw to a close. "Bobbie, why are you back working at that burger place?  I thought things were going well for you." 

Bobbie plopped her gym bag on one of the chairs and sat down beside it. She looked at me through the mirrors. "It was, but daycare is expensive."

"Do they have better benefits than what Tony and I offer?" I asked.  Irony saw fit for me to hear Antonia's yell for me to hurry up down the hall. "Just at second!" I yelled back.

Bobbie scoffed fumbling around with her makeup case. "Nope. I just need the extra income. I swear, Charlie, I'll still be here working.  I like it here and you guys treat us really well.  I just need more money." 

I heard the determined footsteps coming down the hall, and knew it was probably someone to fetch me per Antonia's request. "I understand Bobbie.  Let's you and I talk later about opportunities for you to earn more here.  I don't like that you have to juggle two jobs and that just eats away at your time with your son."

Just then, Sonya's head popped in and looked at me. "Tony says 'now'!"

I laughed and winked at Bobbie.  I ran out the door past Sonya with a wave. "Gotta go, we'll talk later though!"

After my number was done, I took my rounds through the crowd, like the other girls. This is where we walked around and allowed anyone to purchase a private dance.  The little cards were on everyone's tables and they asked simply by slipping the card in their garters. I left it to the ladies who to select from their pile of requests who to service. This usually kept them on their best behavior. A patron knows they have a select chance of being accepted. I didn't do rounds as long as the other girls because usually there was some other work I had to do. Also, tonight, the 1st request of the night was the gentleman and I didn't want to keep him waiting. Seeing him was kinda the highlight of my nights.

I loped past the other girls as they exited the dressing room for the next skit, making my way to my chair to quickly change into my rhinestone corset and black ruffled panties. A fresh application of makeup before I made my way to the "moon room."

I entered the private room quietly to find him sitting down in the soft, blue and pink lighting. His drink was on the table, mostly likely whiskey on the rocks, and his long legs crossed as he leaned back in the leather circular sofa. The lighting cast a smooth tone across his skin and the gentleman's dark brown eyes looked up at me as I closed the door behind me.

I greeted him with a smile. "Hi."

The gentleman nodded. "Hello." His eyes looked over my body briefly and as always, I couldn't help but grin.  He tried so hard not to blatantly ogle, when in fact, I seemed to get off on it. Not just for anybody ogling, mine you, but like I said, the gentleman was different. 

His chestnut eyes were fixed on me that had an intensity I've grown to enjoy when performing for him. 

I stepped onto the platform and bent down to grab the remote for the music. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

I clicked on the music, and the room filled with one of my favorite songs to perform. I swayed my body back and forth, moving along with the rhythm of the slow, seductive music. I rolled my body around the pole, landing on my knees. My hands slowly moving from my throat to my breasts, finally meeting at the center of my body. As always, I kept a playful, flirty smile and watched him watching me perform for him. The gentleman was hard to read and for the longest time couldn't tell if he watched me dance because I aroused him or intrigued him.  

He obeyed all the rules and then some.  He didn't get personal. He didn't touch me and usually gave me an insanely generous tip afterwards, never during. The first time I danced for him, he gave me a $1500 tip and the next time he arrived, I tried to give it back to him. Sure, I was a great dancer, but I'm not Anastasia Sokolova! I'll never forgot his face that night. Such a curious smile he gave me at that time. Then that strange expression, where I wasn't sure if he wanted to study me or fuck me. Even then, he remained calm, letting his hands simply cover over mine and said, "Well deserved compensation for your performance." 

And that was the the 1st and last time he spoke more than several words to me and touched me. Now, almost two months later, we've found ourselves in a strange sort of routine with each other. He never touched me, not even to slip the dance request in my garter belt. He always had it delivered to me. I danced, he watched, paid then left. I took his tip and split it with the girls or put it towards our group spa day.

As my first dance performance drew to a close, the gears in my head began to turn. I wasn't really satisfied with our routine transactions anymore. What if he stopped coming? I wouldn't even know his name.  I know me.  I've always regretted something more of what I didn't do than something I did.  But maybe he had no intentions about knowing me.  That was a possibility, but I wouldn't know unless I talked to him. His mystery, though refreshingly welcomed, also drove me crazy with questions. All I knew was that he looked great in black, he always smelled amazing, he smoked cigars and didn't have a wedding ring. 

I stepped down from the platform and as he reached into his billfold, I held my hand up smiling at him. "May I ask for other compensation?" I asked him, finally breaking the unspoken rule between us. 

Continue to read on to Part 2 in next chapter...