How to Destroy a Rich Boy

Chapter One

Dignity - everybody knows that word. 

It is the feeling you get in life when you feel proud of who you are, and what you do. A state of honouring yourself, and respecting yourself enough not to do things that upset you. So, essentially, it is a state of being when you don't allow yourself to be treated like shit.

It is a good word, a positive one.

The only problem was, I didn't have any. Not even a drop.

And the reason for such all pointed back to one crippling reality - I was dressed like a sexy cat.

 Yes, a cat.

From the fake kitten ears threaded through my blonde hair; all the way to my tight leather black playsuit - I looked a definition of an inappropriate Halloween costume gone wrong.

And no, in case you're wondering, I wasn't dressed like this for my amusement. I dressed this way for the simple reason that it was a part of my waitressing uniform. A waitressing uniform at a strip club. 

 Most second-year university students choose to work at their local supermarket, or perhaps even the library, but not me. I was unfortunate enough to work here.

And before you freak out, I'm not a dancer here. I mean, I certainly don't have the dance ability nor guts to swing half-naked on a pole. I simply handed out the drinks. Nobody touched me, and I didn't touch anybody.

So, you may wonder what it might be like to work at a strip club?

And, well, to put it bluntly - it was traumatizing. From going through the uncomfortable experience of watching young boys and girls wiggle their naked arses around in your face, to having crusty old men openly request you give them a lap dance - it was hardly the life I envisioned for myself. I mean, don't get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a stripper or working here, but it definitely was a problem when you hated it. And I most definitely did.

But I had to do it for one reason alone - Money. 

Money was the reason I did everything I didn't want to. And by some twisted stroke of fate, this was one of the only part-time jobs that were hiring near my university, and for that reason alone, I took it.

Letting out a long whine of a groan, I pressed my forehead even harder into the storage cupboard wall before me. I couldn't help but wonder if I smashed my head hard enough against the wall if I'd be able to knock myself out. 

I mean, I'm pretty sure I would still get paid since it would be an accident at work after all...

When things got too much at this place, I'd lock myself in the storage cupboard and quietly get on with having a mental breakdown. And that was exactly what I was doing right now. 

Was this healthy? Definitely not. But it helped me get through the day while suppressing the urge not to strangle the perverted male customers.

Suddenly, I heard a furious tapping sound beat against the door, and I winced. 

"Sophie, go see your fucking table, hurry up," I heard my boss's voice snap through the door.

I gave him a dirty look through the door in annoyance.

Why couldn't he leave me in peace to have my hourly mental breakdown...

I willed my body to move, but it refused to move. I could hardly blame it, considering what awaited it. 

"Sophie!" he yelled again. 

My head struck up. "Fine, yes, I'm coming, sorry," I called back.