CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I know it’s your first night, but don’t freak out. The main thing is to just look good,” said Angela, picking through outfits hanging in the strippers’ dressing room. “If you look good, it don’t matter how you dance. The guys pay to watch booty like yours.”
Julia felt out of place in the bustle of all the strippers.
The dressing room was laid out like a cut-rate hair salon with mirrored stations lining the walls.
Girls in various stages of undress jiggled around her, walking, primping, and rubbing lotion over their bodies, their boobs glowing in the harsh light.
The hardest part was knowing where to look.
Julia couldn’t help but stare at the tits and thighs and hips and lips and eyes and hairstyles of all kinds.
She felt out of her league. People had always told her she was pretty, but these girls were unreal.
How was she supposed to compete with all these girls who looked like they’d just walked out of a Playboy centerfold?
And the nervous flutter in her stomach wasn’t helping matters.
She felt like she had to go pee again, and she’d already gone three times.
She turned her attention to Angela, who was picking through the rack of outfits along the back wall.
“This’ll look good on you,” said Angela, holding two hangers. Julia followed her over to an empty mirror.
Angela hooked the hangers on the back of a chair. Julia looked at the clothes as she stripped. A black fur bikini top and a metallic gold G-string. “What’s with this?” Julia said, picking up the furry bikini top.
“Just put it on,” said Angela. “And the G-string too. We’re going on in a minute.”
“You sure?” asked Julia, making a face.
Angela took the hanger with the G-string off the back of the chair and held it up. “Either put ‘em on or go out there naked. Me? I’m wearing whatever I can. They pay to have us take it off, you know.”
Julia slipped into the G-string. Angela helped tie the bikini top. A girl whistled from across the room.
“Damn, Angela,” the girl said, teetering in spiked heels. “Tell your girlfriend to stay off my stage unless she wants trouble. I ain’t sharing my booty tips.”
“Ain’t your stage, Shalonda,” snapped Angela, looking the girl up and down.
“And if you want trouble, you know where to find me. I’m here every night.
” Angela tapped a foot, hand on hip, and held Shalonda’s stare until she walked away muttering under her breath.
Then Angela turned to Julia. “Don’t worry.
She runs her mouth but never backs it up. Just relax. This is gonna be fun.”
Julia nodded. She looked in the mirror. Angela had done her makeup and hair before they’d gotten here.
Her dark, shoulder-length hair fell in big shiny curls over her shoulders.
Her mascara and eye shadow were thick enough to ink a newspaper, but somehow Angela made it work.
The only thing Angela hadn’t been able to do was cover her scar.
No matter how much foundation Angela put on, the scar wouldn’t disappear.
But other than that, Julia thought she looked crazy sexy.
She slipped her feet into a pair of black high heels and pursed her lips in the mirror.
The bassline of a heavy, funky beat vibrated up from the floor, through her feet, and up her legs.
“Let’s go, girl,” said Angela, grabbing Julia by the arm. “That’s our music.”
Julia followed Angela through a curtain. The bar’s strobe lights blinded her for a moment. She could barely hear the announcer’s voice over the music.
“Welcome, Cookies and Cream!”
Wonder which one I am, Julia thought, as she followed Angela sashaying across the stage.
Angela said they’d dance together tonight.
Julia wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was out of her body at this point, moving on autopilot.
Whatever Angela told her to do, she’d do.
She just wanted to get this over with. She stepped across the stage, felt Angela’s hands wrap around her—her hips grinding against her—then Angela whispered in her ear.
“Remember, it’s all an act. Just follow my lead.”
Julia nodded. The music filled her head.
A hand reached up, stuffing something in the back of her G-string, followed by more hands grabbing her legs, shoving money in her G-string, Angela’s mouth was on hers.
The music swirled around her in a kaleidoscope, mixed with yells, cigarette smoke, and groping hands.
Angela licked her neck, then slipped her tongue into her mouth.
She kissed Angela back, letting herself sink into it, her body swaying, every nerve ending firing.
She came up for air. Men held money toward her, their pupils hard black pinpoints anchored in swirls of cigarette smoke, focused on everything but her face.
She watched Angela kneel in front of her, throw her head back, and flick her tongue in the air.
She backed up against the pole in the middle of the stage and closed her eyes, leaning on the pole while she danced.
Angela stood and stepped behind her, massaging her breasts.
The crowd yelled. None of it mattered. It was all part of the game.
She relaxed, letting Angela grind into her. It was okay.
As long as it paid, the world could suck her dry tonight.
* * *
“You did a good job out there.”
Julia looked up at Billy Kelley. He smiled, flashing his gold tooth. She turned back to the mirror and continued touching up her makeup.
“I mean it, really,” said Billy, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Bet you made a couple hundred,” he said, rubbing her shoulder.
She stared at her reflection, saying, “Mm-hmm,” as she lined her eyelid with a mascara pencil. Billy’s hand slid down to her chest. She froze.
“We killed it out there.”
Billy lifted his hand. He turned toward Angela, fanning herself with a stack of bills as she walked the length of the dressing room.
“What are you doing here, Billy?” Angela said, stopping next to Julia. “You ain’t supposed to be in our dressing room. I could turn you in for sexual harassment.”
“Just stopped in to tell Julia she did a good job,” said Billy, as he walked out of the room. He stopped at the curtain that led into the club and pointed at Angela. “By the way, you got that customer coming in for a lap dance in five minutes. Don’t forget.”
Julia watched Billy disappear through the curtain into the club. She looked up at Angela. She’d come blowing in here like a diva, fanning herself with that handful of bills, and now it looked like the air had been taken out of her. Julia touched her hand.
“You okay?” she asked.
Angela stared at the curtain that led into the club. “I’m fine.” She smiled and held up the money. “Why wouldn’t I be? We got something going with this girl-on-girl act.”
“I guess,” said Julia. “When do we go on again?”
Angela rolled her money, rubber banded it, and put it on the table in front of Julia’s mirror.
“We’re dancing solo the rest of the night.
You know, jiggle around, bend over—that kind of thing.
Our act is a once-a-night thing. Don’t want them getting bored with us.
” She held her hand out. “Give me your money. Billy will hold it for us. These girls will steal anything that ain’t attached to you. ”
Julia handed her cash to Angela.
Angela rolled Julia’s money, banded it, and put it on the table next to hers. “I gotta do this lap dance. Wait here until I get back.”
“One of the other girls said I should mix with the crowd,” said Julia. “She said lap dances are where I’ll make the real money.”
Angela nodded. “Yeah, but you do the wrong thing with an undercover cop, and he’ll toss you in jail. Just take it easy. I’ll be right back. I’ll show you how to do lap dances tomorrow.”
“Good,” said Julia. “I’m wiped out anyhow. Feel like I ran ten miles.”
Angela laughed as she walked toward the curtain. “It takes some getting used to,” she said. “I’ll see you in a bit. Just relax.”
The curtain closed and Angela was gone. Julia turned and cursed under her breath. Angela said she was going to give their money to Billy for safekeeping, but their rolls of cash were still on the table. Julia picked up the money and hurried after Angela.
The club seemed different from when she was on stage.
Everything moved slower. The music wasn’t as loud.
The lights weren’t as bright. Even the men seemed less...
less...hungry looking. Now they just seemed like regular guys.
She weaved through the tables, noticing that some of the men were polite, even cordial, as she walked through the club. Two guys in biker cuts nodded at her.
“Nice job up there,” said one as she walked by their table.
Julia glanced back and saw that their cuts were from The Locos biker gang.
She flashed a peace sign and said, “Live hard.” Both men lifted their bottles of beer and yelled, “Die young.” She smiled and moved on.
Everyone in Massey knew The Locos’ creed, but she’d never said it to any of them before.
That was reserved for members and their old ladies.
She grinned. And now, hot-ass strippers like me.
She kept walking, feeling more relaxed with every step.
She was a stripper, and damn if it didn’t feel good.
Angela’s lesbian act on stage freaked her out, but based on the money these men were throwing at them, Angela knew what she was doing.
Billy Kelley was a little too handsy, but all in all, this job wasn’t bad.
She walked toward the white curtain that ringed the private lap-dance section of the club, gripping the thick rolls of cash.