14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
brADY
I sleep surprisingly well that night.
In fact, I wake up with a new lease on life. I’m a badass! I grew a pair! I went for what I wanted and it was spectacular!
Today, I get to meet her at the studio for the tow yard thing and to spend some time together in the daylight with clothes on, like normal people.
I feel great . I head out for a run, go to the bank to make a huge deposit in my checking account, and hit the fitness trail at the park, where I bang out push-ups, crunches and chin-ups.
I have no idea if I’ll keep dancing or not, but keeping my body in shape is important to me either way, if for no other reason than to acquire the endorphins I’m chasing.
I go home, shower, change, eat. Later in the morning, I get another call from Steve checking in.
He says he heard good things, and while he doesn’t have anything immediate for me gig-wise, if I want him to, he’ll gladly keep me on the roster for upcoming stuff.
Given the fact that I was able to accumulate over $1,800 in two days, I tell him I’d be happy to have him consider me for future work.
I run to the grocery store; no more of this popcorn and ramen bullshit if I might be having company in the near future.
I get real food, stuff I can cook, produce, meat, and seafood from the perimeter of the store that doesn’t come in cans or freezer bags.
Items with expiration dates. I spend over a hundred dollars, something I haven’t had the luxury of doing since I lived here.
Also, I buy a jar of pickles, just so I can say that I have my own now.
At 2:30, I leave to head up to Cosmo. It’s a gorgeous day out; I feel bad that Gretchen has to spend it holed up in a dark warehouse. Maybe tomorrow, she’d like to hit the beach with me. I’ll ask her , I decide.
There are four cars in the parking lot when I arrive.
One of them, I’ve come to know, is Gretchen’s ridiculous little Ford Fiesta.
There’s also a Lexus, a BMW, and an Acura in the lot.
Those cars are all gleaming white, reminiscent of new veneers in the mouths of wealthy summer people, lined up all neatly on the gravel like that.
I park my car next to Gretchen’s and head to the door.
When I open it, music spills out, wrapping around me like a blanket.
It’s a slow song that I don’t recognize, something very reminiscent of Nine Inch Nails’ Closer but sung by a female voice.
“How do you want me?” the breathy voice asks.
The music and the darkness work in tandem to make me feel like I’m entering some kind of sex den.
Which is right on trend for me in my mesh shorts, flip flops, and Hog Island Beer Company t-shirt.
When my eyes adjust to the light (or lack thereof), I spot Gretchen swinging from a pole, attached by long, black silks.
The silks come down in a pair, and she has wrapped them around her waist in some kind of knot so that, with one foot against the pole, she can use languid, deliberate movements to hoist herself into a fully reclined position.
Straight as an arrow, perpendicular to the pole, she lifts one leg up and grabs it with her free arm, and she slowly spins in a beautiful circle, silks careening off her back like something out of a dream.
My. God.
“Oh, hey!” she calls.
I walk towards her as she maneuvers her way out of the silks, landing as gracefully as a bird coming down from the sky, all wings and feathers and floating.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I say. “That looked really cool.”
“Yeah, they’re fun,” she replies. “Pole silks – but they’ll burn your skin something fierce if you’re not careful.” Gretchen shows me the inside of her forearm, where she has what looks an awful lot like a rug burn.
“Ouch,” I say. “That just happened today?”
“Uh huh. I’m still learning,” she smiles, sheepishly.
Gretchen grabs a bottle of water that’s in the floor over by the wall of mirrors. The light shines neon purple all around us. “Want some?” she asks, holding the bottle out to me.
“I’m good, thanks,” I say. “What time did you get here?”
“About 30 minutes ago,” she replies.
“How was your brunch?" I ask.
“It was great, thanks. How was your morning?"
"Busy, but good. Got some errands done." I try to sound nonchalant, as if I didn't spend all morning thinking about this moment right now.
“So, are you working the party tonight?”
“Nope. But Steve – he’s the guy who organizes everything – he said he’d keep me on the roster for the future.”
“That’s nice. I honestly can’t imagine keeping up the pace of doing this beyond the summer. It’s a lot.”
“Well, sure, I mean especially if you’re dancing all night long. I only have to humiliate myself for under an hour. You guys have to do this all night, right?”
“Not exactly. The way it works is the group of girls arrives and first we let them dance and hang out, just warm up, give them some shots to get them to relax, you know? Then we do a pole dancing lesson. That’s actually really easy because we show them a move and they practice it over and over for each other. ”
“That doesn’t get boring?”
“Well, sure, for us it does, but not for the girls. Most of them have never been on a pole before, so they feel like deviants even going near one. It takes a lot of time just for them to learn how to walk around a pole. Some of them have what Arrow calls ‘elephant feet,’ like, their step is just so hard that nothing looks sexy. So, we try to teach them how to walk, for starters.”
“Show me,” I say.
She laughs. “You want me to show you how to walk around the pole?”
“I do.”
“You’ve got no shame, huh?”
“Please. You’ve seen me in a baseball thong. Pretty sure nothing’s off limits with us.”
This makes her snicker, and the sound does something to my chest cavity.
“So, come on.” I grin. “Let’s see if I’ve got elephant feet.”
“Okay,” she replies, shaking her head. “First things first. Come stand here.” She leads me over to a different pole and directs me to stand in front of her. The pole is to my left. She taps on my left shoulder. “This is your inside arm.”
“Inside arm,” I repeat, raising my left hand.
“Good. And this,” she taps my right shoulder, “is your outside arm.”
“Got it.”
“So, scooch over a sec.” I shuffle to the side.
“When you walk, you want to hold the pole up high using your inside arm. Follow the natural flow of your body, which means that as you walk forward, you’ll automatically be moving counter-clockwise, like this.
” Gretchen takes a few steps around the pole. “Now, watch me.”
Gladly , I think.
“I’ve got good posture, right? Head high, shoulders back, and be sure you make eye contact with the audience.”
I try to imitate her posture, which makes her giggle.
“Now, for the feet. With toes pointed, you’ll start with your inside foot and take a step.
Then, you drag your outside foot behind you until it comes up in front, and again, toes pointed, slowly step into a walk.
Your hips need to sway dramatically and your free hand should do sexy stuff, like trace up your side or run through your hair – not that you have long hair, but you know what I mean,” she continues. “So, it would look like this.”
Gretchen pulls a remote control out of her sports bra and points it at the stereo, turning the music up a few notches.
It’s Body Party by Ciara (another great throwback).
The slow, sexy R&B rhythm reverberates through the space, charging the moment with electricity and heat.
She waits for the beat to drop and then walks exactly as she described, with her hips alternating out into each step, her toes dragging, her head swaying so her hair cascades down her back, and her free hand snaking its way up her torso, over her right breast, and into her tousled locks.
“God damn,” I cannot help but say.
This gets her chuckling again. She hops away from the pole and says, “Okay, big talker, Your turn now.”
“I can’t do that. First of all, I’m a guy. Secondly, that was hot. I’m, like, lukewarm at best.”
“Just try it,” she encourages me. “Remember, you asked me for this.”
I begin to walk, letting my performance exude the humor of the moment. Gretchen’s laughter is an elixir to my soul, so I play it up even more dramatically, and she hollers and catcalls at me in response. “Woo! Yeah, hottie!” she yells.
Finally, I stop walking and attempt to catch my breath from laughing so hard. “Who knew just walking could be so challenging?”
“See? So, you can imagine how the girls who come here take forever practicing it,” she explains. “Plus, they’re in groups, like three or four of them sharing one pole, so they all have to take turns, which sucks up a lot of time.”
“Gotcha. So, then what happens?”
“Well, then we teach them the most basic spin, which is called a dip turn. Ever heard of it?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Okay, so watch me first.” She approaches the pole again, in the same spot as before.
“Inside arm high, outside arm reaches across to grab the pole. Take one step with your inside foot, and then lift your outside leg and let it trace a nice big circle around the pole. Next, lift the inside foot and step it back through the space between your body and the pole. It’s simple and pretty, and you can make it very dramatic with the leg extension.
” She does the spin once, twice. “Nice, right?” she asks, when she’s done.
“Very nice,” I agree.
“You think you can do it?”
“No. But I’ll give it a whirl.”
Gretchen steps back, and I approach the pole. I follow the steps she showed me and inadvertently end up tripping over my own foot. I try again. Still no good. “Well, it’s confirmed. I think I have elephant feet.”
“Definitely not. It’s not easy,” she explains. “Lots of people assume it’s simple, but so much of it is core strength and honestly, like, basic gymnastics.”