Sierra
Chapter three
The heat is unbearable, and beads of sweat slowly drip down my face as the sun beats down on me.
What a waste of a shower. I barely make it to the bus stop in time to jump on before it takes off, thanks to Sam’s lollygagging getting together what she wanted to take to Mrs. Butler’s tonight.
The sweet woman tried to convince me to let Sam stay the night, but I couldn’t, especially with her demanding she stay on Sunday night.
I needed to know I could take care of her and do what I needed.
I needed others to know it as well, especially when it came time for me to petition for custody.
It was another reason I’ve been working so hard, knowing I was going to need a shit ton of money for a lawyer.
There’s no way my aunt would give up the free money the state was giving her for us being her wards.
When the bus pulls up to the stop closest to the club, I stand and make my way to the exit doors, waving goodbye to Julie, the driver, as I step off onto the sidewalk.
Checking my watch, I know I have five minutes to make it two blocks.
I take off running, hating every minute of it, knowing I’m only going to sweat more.
“Cutting it close, aren't we, Lilac?” Rico croons from where he’s poised at the bar as I rush in, passing by him. I have a baseball cap over my head so no one can see what I look like without my wig on. Hell, with the amount of makeup I cake on and the wig, I’m unrecognizable.
“Sorry!” I holler over my shoulder as I rush to the back. I can hear his laughter booming over the hip-hop music currently playing through the speakers.
Busting through the doors to the dressing room, I rush straight to my locker, open it, and toss my bag inside.
“Girl, this is the closest you’ve ever cut it. Be careful doing it, if ya don’t want anyone to know who ya really are,” Jasmine, one of the other dancers, warns me.
“I know. Just got out of the house late and almost missed the bus.”
Reaching into my locker, I pull out my outfit for the night.
A policewoman it is. I get busy caking my face in makeup.
It helps to give the illusion that I’m older.
Once I’m done, I put on my wig, making sure it’s secure for when I do the one or two tricks I’ve actually figured out how to do.
It’s long and purple and fits well with the name Lilac I use here.
I hate dancing; each time I get on that stage, I feel like I’m about to throw up. The only thing that helps is thinking about Sam, knowing I need to provide for her.
“Okay, ladies, time to get out on the floor. Those who aren’t on the stage need to be mingling in the crowd, working to get private lap dances.” Rico opens the door, sticking his head inside but keeping his head turned down to the floor and shouts at us.
I internally groan, taking back what I said. Lap dances make me want to hurl the most. It takes everything in me to slap on a seductive, flirty face and grind on these men. Each time I do it, I feel like a piece of my soul is slowly dying.
“Lilac, make sure that look on your face is gone when you step out onto the floor,” he warns before turning and heading back out to the floor.
“Girl, you’ve been here a year. Figured you would’ve gotten rid of those nerves by now,” Porsche says, handing me a bottle of water that I eagerly accept.
I would’ve thought that, too. I can make it through the dance, but it's when I’m grinding on someone that I see flashbacks, so quick that I can’t make them out, but I have a sinking feeling I don’t want to know either.
“Girl, just suck it up and get out there,” she tells me as she stumbles out of the room. Someone should tell her to learn to walk in heels. My voice sounds really catty in my head as I sneer at her.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I’m doing this for Sam. I’m doing this to keep us together. After reciting this mantra over ten times, I finally head out to the floor. Let’s do this.
The night’s been going good. I’ve made decent tips off the lap dances I’ve done, and I made it through my one private dance. My first set is coming up in twenty minutes, so I’m in the dressing room mentally preparing for it. I only have three hours left for the night. I can make it.
“Woo, girl, there’s a group of silver foxes out there spreading the money around. Make sure to get you some,” Candi purrs as she steps through the doors to the dressing room in nothing but her G-string, counting a wad of bills in her hand.
“Are they being handsy?” I rub my hands nervously.
“Girl, you want ’em that way. More money for you. Unless you’re not in the business of making it?” She stares at me for a second before dropping into the chair at her vanity table, continuing to count the cash in her hands.
I have to admit; she looks to have a lot, and I think about the bills it could pay. Standing slowly, I head to the door, knowing it’s almost time for my number.
Walking up the steps, waiting for the emcee to announce me, I slip the mask on my face.
It’s a black and silver Mardi Gras type mask that covers the upper part of my face but has openings for my eyes, so I can still see.
I made a deal with Rico to wear the mask.
He saw it as a novelty; it matched the purple wig and helped to make me stand out from the other dancers.
To me, it was just another way to protect my identity.
The first beat of my song, Partition by Beyonce, kicks on.
Just as the emcee announces me, I make my way onto the stage.
I take my time, swaying my hips with exaggerated steps as I walk to the pole in the center of the stage, and strike a pose.
Letting the music overtake me, I try to black out everything in the room.
Only when I get closer to the edge of the stage, for some of the dance moves, do I acknowledge the people crowded around it.
Men are piled against the stage, some holding out money, encouraging me to step closer so they can slip it into my thong.
While others just have their hands out, trying to touch me.
I spot the group she was talking about out of the corner of my eye.
Older men dressed in suits, easily tossing money around like candy.
Awkwardly, I turn, so my back is to the pole and slowly slide down it until I’m squatting on the floor with my legs spread wide, showing off my barely covered crotch.
I go down on my knees and untie my shirt, arching my arms back, so it can slide off them.
My eyes are drawn to the group, to the one in the middle, who could easily realize who I am.
I just pray my attempts to hide my identity work.
I keep rubbing my hands over my body, cupping my breasts and pussy, enticing the men to toss more money on the stage.
The last time I caress my boobs, I undo the front hook to my bra and remove it, exposing my bare breasts.
Leaning forward, I get on my knees and seductively crawl over to the group, like the other girls had shown me.
I’m nervous the entire time he’s watching me. The way his tongue darts out of his mouth and glides over his lips as he leers at me makes me sick to my stomach, but I need to make it through this.
When I reach the edge of the stage, I lay back, propping myself on my arms and fan my legs out, placing my pussy front and center to their prying eyes.
Thrusting up and down, I reach forward and slide my fingers along my g-string right through the center of my lips.
It must be the right move, as they all break their necks trying to reach me to place bills into my underwear.
All except him. He just stares, like he can see through the persona I’m attempting to hide behind.
My song finally ends, and I hastily scoop up all the money on the stage before making my way off to head back to the dressing room. I almost make it until a warm hand wraps around my arm, halting me in my escape.
“You looked amazing up there,” he tells me in a husky voice.
Not wanting to say anything. Afraid if he didn’t already know who I was, my voice would give me away. “Thank you,” I mumble softly, a slight raspy hint in my voice from the smoke used while I was up on the stage.
“I’d love a private dance.” His hand is still firmly gripped around my arm, refusing to let go even when I attempt to pull away.
“She’s booked for tonight, and you’re not allowed to touch the dancers,” Cyrus the bodyguard announces as he steps in to intervene. “Lilac, head on back. You need to get ready for your next one.”
“Thank you,” I whisper to him, thankful for the save, as I rush off. But not quick enough, because I can still hear him when he calls out to me.
“Lilac, some other time. I can’t wait to see you again.”
I rush to the back, straight to the bathroom, barely getting the lid lifted before dropping to my knees and expelling all the contents of my stomach.
I hear a throat clearing behind me, but I can’t stop heaving.
“You okay?” Cyrus asks as he reaches down, taking my hair and holding it back for me.
Feeling as if there is nothing left in me, I sit back, and he drops his hold on my hair.
“Yeah, just didn’t expect to see someone I knew,” I confess.
“Do I need to be worried? I didn’t like how he had his hands on you. Next time, call out for me,” he says roughly. “Clean up and get back out there. Don’t want Rico to notice you’re gone for too long.” He turns and heads for the bathroom door.
“Cyrus?”
“Yeah?” He stops and looks back at me.
“Thank you.” He doesn’t reply, just turns and leaves.
Standing slowly, I head over to the sink, rinsing the vile taste from my mouth before heading to my locker to stash my money and put on another outfit.
Please, just let me make it through this night.