Chapter Four
Charley
Things are getting better. I’ve had my advance payment so have been able to buy some new shoes and other items of clothes I found in a goodwill store. I’ve got the window fixed on my car, and I’ve spent the last two weeks using the room Ellie gave me access to, practicing as much as possible.
For the first time in months, the band around my chest loosens a little.
There have been no more mishaps at work, nothing broken and Beast has not been so tense when he sees me walking by anymore.
They replaced Stella which bummed me out but they did need a dancer to take over. I couldn’t expect they’d wait around for me to be able to do it.
The only outstanding problem is where I live. I’m still not in a position to be able to change that so I’m not going to dwell on it. It’s better than sleeping in the car.
As if to prove me wrong someone starts yelling outside my room, making me jump and almost burn my hand on the curling iron I’m using.
Another voice joins in, then some thumping and a crash. I get up and double check the dresser I’ve dragged in front of the door. It’s heavy as hell, no one is moving that from the outside unless they’re Hercules. It takes me enough time to drag it back and forth as it is.
I stand still watching the door with my fists clenched, and jump when something crashes against it. There is more yelling, then the sound of feet running down the stairs. Everything fades back to silence.
Maybe I shouldn’t have bought new shoes and a window. I should have got a hotel room. But that requires a lot more money to keep up. At least here I just hand over a weekly cash payment. Chewing my lip I decide the risk isn’t worth it. I’ll find a motel somewhere when I get my next paycheck.
At least that way I have my own space and there is some element of security, even if there are shady types frequenting a motel.
It’s not the same as living with a bunch of drug addicts, pimps and their girls and all the other dregs of society that have found themselves here.
It takes me another five minutes to finish my hair, grab my bag and put all my valuables in the lock box I carry around with me. I’ve made the mistake of hiding things under my mattress before.
The drive over to Elegance is busier than usual because of rush hour traffic, the less time I spend in that house the better, even if I just get a coffee and bagel and sit in the room Ellie said I could use.
Leo is there when I arrive today, Walker works the late shift. He’s not as friendly as Walker and grunts more than talks, not that I want to hang around and make conversation. I grab a coffee from the break room by the offices, then head through to the private room.
Everything is so opulent here, the change in environments can be jarring. After breakfast I take a quick shower, careful not to mess up my hair and head back to practice.
I lose all track of time as I dance. It’s been a dream of mine since I was a little girl to be up on stage dancing. My dance teacher when I was younger told me I had talent, she nurtured me, spent more time with me than her other students because she was sure I was going to make it.
Then mom died, dad re-married less than six months later to a woman with two daughters a little older than me and a son the same age. It felt like I became an unwanted visitor in my own house. Dad never stood up for me. He was the only thing I had left and he let me down.
I’m not sure professional dancing will ever happen for me. Being here at Elegance, fighting to be able to get up on the stage and dance isn’t going to help. But I get to dance. It’s the only thing that I have anymore. After my step-mother put an end to all of my dreams.
Then when the accident happened, everything changed.
Fighting those memories becomes impossible.
The mangled metal, screams, the scent of gas and fire, melting flesh.
I crumble to the floor clutching my chest as panic takes over.
This is supposed to be getting easier, and it has been, but now and then the memory takes root and it's impossible to push it back into the recesses of my mind where it belongs.
I’m fucking horrified that tears are filling my eyes, and I lay down on the floor to catch my breath. If I thought I could, I’d go and make sure the door is locked but my legs have buckled, my heart feels like it is going to explode and my fingers have gone numb.
The medication I got when it first happened ran out months ago, I’ve had to deal with it the only way I can, letting it wash over me, until my body remembers that it’s safe now. Until my mind quietens and the memories fade.
My skin is clammy when I eventually come back to myself. I’ve learned ways to control my mind, if not my body, when these attacks happen. If it happened when I’m at that house I know everything could fall apart. There is no way the people there wouldn’t take advantage while I’m incapacitated.
It’s not easy but I drag myself up and go over to the corner to get a drink of water. I need another shower but no one can see me yet. My eyes are still a little wild, my hair a mess and it will be impossible to hide there is something wrong.
Something wrong with me.
That’s all I heard for years. So much so, I started to believe it.
“You’re not there anymore,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “No one can hurt you.”
After a few deep breaths I turn back to the small stage with two poles. It’s a private room but there is space for a small group to watch. Lily says it’s usually bachelor parties or businessmen who use these rooms, two dancers work in tandem, routines have to be practiced.
That sounds like something I’d be happy to do.
Swallowing down the fear, panic and anger, I stomp back over to the stage and grab the heels from my bag. It’s time to get out of my usual mind set and into that of a stripper. Like Ellie said, they’re called dancers, but that isn’t what they are, not really.
All the girls here have talent but at the end of the day they do it without their clothes. And if I ever want to be there, I need to practice. On my own, able to look at myself in a mirror and watch as I take off all my clothes, imagining having the eyes of a lot of men on me as I do.
Cranking up the music, I tug off my t-shirt but leave the shorts and bra.
For now. I’ve watched a lot of routines on the internet, and seen the girls here, worked out how the moves are slightly nuanced and different to what I’m used to, how to sway in a certain way, arch my body to maximize the effect.
Some of the girls bump and grind but I don’t think that is something I’m capable of. I have been practicing a certain routine though and I start to do it, working around the pole before jumping up and swinging.
There is nothing clumsy about me when I’m up here and I start to lose myself again, but pull back from the edge, long enough to let my feet hit the floor, twirl around the pole with my back to the seats and unhook my bra.
My throat swells but I cast it aside, with a sexy flick that I’ve seen the other girls do, then I turn around, grabbing the pole and leaning my upper body back, my back arched, boobs thrust up to the ceiling.
I’m spinning, twirling and using the pole like it's an anchor when I spot my reflection in the glass.
It makes me stall and gasp to see my naked breasts. Get used to it, Charley. This is what you need to do. There is a place in my mind I can go to, muscle memory taking over when I dance. I just need to avoid the mirrors.
“Why did you stop?”
The voice startles me. I grab my boobs and look over at the door. Relief floods me when I see it’s Ellie. She must have crept inside while I was lost in the music, standing back in the shadows.
“Just overthinking.” I decide not to lie.
“You need to get out of your own head,” she tells me.
She looks gorgeous in designer jeans, knee-high boots and a tight sweater. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek pony tail and her make-up is perfection.
“It hasn’t gone unnoticed that you’re working hard, Charley but you still have some sort of mental block.”
“I’m working on it.”
“If you want to dance here, prove to Beast you’re worthy of a place on that stage, you need to do more than work on it. You will have to audition. It’s not just a given that you will get a spot.”
I didn’t know that. That’s a whole other layer of shit on top of the ever-growing pile.
“Come outside,” she says and leaves.
I put on my bra, and shirt and follow her, leaving everything else. Ellie has walked over to the main stage and is waiting for me. There is no one else around which I’m grateful for when she tells me to get up on the stage.
This stage is big, it has enough room for whole dance routines as well as the poles, and there are booths right up to the edge of the stage. These are the expensive seats, with higher backs than the rest of the booths to give the people who purchase them a bit more privacy.
The stage is high enough that people behind them can still see, but now I’m up here, it’s jarring how close those booths are.
Lily said they’re the men you want to dance for. Not just the owners who frequent them, but the men who have subscriptions here, who hand over hundreds instead of tens and twenties. It’s the Holy Grail to dance this stage.
“Do that routine,” Ellie said, leaning a hip against the booth. “All of it, from the beginning and then go onto the pole like you did back there.”
I touch my top and pinch my bra strap.
“You can leave that all on for now,” she waves a hand.
She reminds me of my old dance teacher, a little tougher and intense maybe, she’s very intimidating but if she didn’t think I could do it, she wouldn’t be helping me, right?
Sucking up the nerves, I move to the center of the stage. If I fuck this up, I don’t think Ellie will let me take it any further.
Think of the money, think of getting your own place, finally feeling safe, you can stop running, never look back, live a better life.
There is no music, but I hear it inside my head, counting down and starting to move. I don’t look at Ellie, I don’t worry about anything except getting this right, proving I have what it takes.
I’ve been used to dancing in bare feet or dance shoes but luckily with my practice over the last week I’ve gotten better in the killer heels and I nail every step and move, every twirl and bend.
When I move over the pole, I leap up and wrap my legs around it, spinning and arching upwards, then stretching out my legs and slowly dropping my feet so my back is pressed against it, my hand gripping at the top of my ass.
I bend my knees, roll forward and simulate taking off my bra, then I step around the pole and look down at her.
Her face is unreadable but I focus on catching my breath, breathing in and out. She is quiet so long I’m starting to think I fucked it up.
“You’re too good.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Ellie shakes her head, looking perplexed.
“Why are you here, Charley?”
“I want to dance.”
“You’ve already said that. And I understand that. What you did there, and what we do here, are two completely different things.”
“I thought I did what you wanted.”
“You did, and so much more. You should be doing this on a professional stage, not here.”
“But… I…”
Ellie holds up her hand to stop me stuttering at her. “You move beautifully, like you were born to do it and before you get excited, that isn’t a compliment. At least, not here. I could watch you dance for hours but the men who come here, that isn’t why they pay hundreds of dollars.”
“I can work on the routines.”
“I’m sure you can. Before you go any further with what you’re practicing, you need to stop and focus on a different style. Watch the girls, see how they do just enough to look like amazing dancers, but they pull back and add in what these men want to see.”
I nod, I can definitely do that.
“Then you need to practice more with no clothes, Charley. What I saw in there was a girl who is unsure of herself. Embrace your sexuality, let it empower you, not scare you. These men are here to watch you, maybe to get off on seeing naked ladies, but at the end of the day, we’re the ones with the power Charley.
You can’t forget that. If you don’t project that confidence, you’ll fumble, drop a tray of drinks,” she smirks.
I half smile at the analogy. With a determined look I nod at her. She stares at me for a good long while but I force myself not to look away, not to wilt. She is testing me and I will not fail.
“In two weeks, I want a different routine, I want you topless, and able to dance with people watching. I’m not a dance teacher, Charley. I’m not going to pat you on the back for a job well done. I am going to assess you. If you can’t do it, then I’m going to recommend that you don’t even try.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Go get ready, we’ll be opening soon. Eat something, I can hear your stomach from over here.”
I’d laugh if she wasn’t right. I’m hungry.
I watch her walk away and look around the room.
The heels are hurting my feet, so I sit down to untie the buckles.
Some of the girls might talk about her behind her back, but Ellie didn’t get to where she is now by being super nice to everyone.
She isn’t horrible at all, but she is exacting and wants everyone to perform to their best ability.
I never thought I would be disappointed in someone telling me the way I dance is too good. How insane is that?
Someone speaks and my stomach drops so fast, I almost throw my shoe into the shadows where it came from.
“What the fuck?” I cry out.