Savage Love

1. Dance with me

The low booming of music from outside mixes with the sound of chattering girls in the changing room. It's a hip-hop song playing in the background, mindlessly I bop my head with the beat as I do the finishing touches on my makeup.

I'm wearing a silver tassel bikini set, transparent platform heels and a silver choker. For my looks, I went for smoky eyes type of makeup. I had curly brown hair which was a little longer than shoulder length. I had a generally slim body frame, diamond-shaped face and long legs, I was exactly 5'10, not any shorter nor taller.

After taking one last look at myself, I smack my lips to ensure the red lipstick is evenly distributed, adjust my bra cups and I'm ready for tonight. I stand up to take a full view of how I look. Camila walks toward me making it a point to casually smack my bum as she begins to adjust her hair "c'mon girl, it's show time."

All the girls performing for tonight file out to get on the stage, Angels is a very popular club in Vegas. The place is usually so packed that each time we performed it felt like performing at a concert.

There are three poles on stage, each girl taking them in pairs of two, Camila and I were paired up, no surprise there. We often made an amazing dance duo, there was just something about the energy radiating from two best friends dancing together.

The music begins to play as we start with the catwalk and some people begin to cheer, the majority being drunk or high. Swaying my hips to the rhythm I latch on to the pole and effortlessly elevate my body. I do a split and turn my legs in a clockwise motion, then I proceed to do the carousel spin, with Camila and I having a steady interval.

I would never understand why people sexualised pole dancing, it was a skill which required grace, energy and poise. As we continue with some hooks and spins, the tempo of the music changes, we all leave the poles and lay on the floor in a knee bridge then following the tempo of the song we begin with waist work, by now it's already raining dollar bills.

As per usual men who want to show off just how long their money is, come forward with fat wads of money in their hands ready to keep making it rain. Balancing in a squat-like position I open my legs still Swaying with the rhythm of the music, unanimously we all stand up and turn around following an already practiced routine.

I raise my arms above my head and my palms connect, slightly Bending my knees I begin to whine my body, then going lower in a squat and pushing my arms forward I jerked my lower back and begin to twerk. The fringes on my waist jiggle, adding to the aura of perfection. Taking calculated steps backwards we began to thrust our upper bodies, the unified choreography earned appraisal from the people in the club.

The next few hours go by quickly and it's already 11:00 pm now. The girls have left the stage and are now mingling with the crowd. 

A man walks up to me while I was by the bar. "Hey, pretty girl," he says. I down my tequila shot and face turn to face him.

"Hey," I respond.

He turns to the bartender whom I've come to know as Liam, "two tequila shots please," he says with a warm smile then turns to me, "do you work here?"

I plant my elbow on the slab and run my fingers through my hair, fighting off the tipsy feeling. "Yeah? Do you want a private performance? I don't do-"

"Can you give a lap dance?" He interrupts me. I give it some thought, and just then the bartender slides two shots of tequila towards us, he reaches out to grab one and I follow suit. "Sure that'll be fifty bucks," I say as the shot glass meets my lips, the sweet citrus taste lingers in my mouth before I swallow, leaving a warm trail of tequila on my insides. Maybe it's the drink, but I don't think anyone would pay 50 dollars just for one lap dance session.

"Okay, that gentleman over there he's the one receiving the lap." He points to a guy seated in the VIP section, then digs his hands into his pocket and brings two 50-dollar bills.

Scratch that thought.

With a deep sigh, I follow the stranger in front of me to the VIP section. A bouncer unhooks the bell top of the red rope from the stanchion, allowing us entry. It's a bit spacious here, there are fewer people and the chairs are mostly empty, well empty except for the one guy I'm supposed to lap dance sitting by the corner alone.

I walk towards him, he has his head down swiveling a glass of red wine in one arm. My heels clack on the floor as I approach, making him tilt his head backwards. Our eyes meet for a moment, and though the disco lights flashing don't allow me to see his face properly, I could identify a few features. His olive-skinned face was practically glowing under the neon lights, he was nicely dressed in a blue round-neck shirt and a black latex jacket, he wore black ripped jeans, white sneakers and an expensive-looking gold chain around his neck.

Not knowing what to do I just stood there in front of him, staring blankly until he cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. I inhaled sharply, "um, somebody paid for a lap dance... him." I jab my thumbs towards the man from earlier, "so, let's get this started." He flashed a warm smile, his former icy countenance was replaced with a friendlier one. "Well, I'm not exactly in the mood for a lap dance." His voice comes out raspy. He gulps the remaining content of his glass, then sucks his teeth.

I push some hair away from my face, "well your friend just paid me 100 bucks for a lap so what do you want to do instead?" He stands up eliminating the space between us. "Hundred dollars is a bit too much for just a lap you know?" My chest tightens, and I take a step back. It's not like I've never been in situations like this where clients want more than just a lap dance, but still, I found them very offensive nonetheless. I fold my arms, "so what do you suggest we do?" I say in a stern voice already contemplating returning the money, it's not like I didn't make some cash from tonight.

He laughs again, "dance with me," he says.