MARS - A GAY NOVEL

CHAPTER TWO - POLE PRINCESS

POLE PRINCESS 

The bass is heavy, radiating from the club's speakers. Milky Way Playhouse just opened, and it's already hype with energy. The Weekend raps about making bitches wet and fucking her friends while women dance topless over men. It's dark in here, illuminated by pink, purple, and blue neon lights. The only white lighting raised over the bar where a lady mixes up a cocktail. A redheaded girl with moles and large breasts in a bikini takes center stage. She lifts her body up the pole, platform heels to the air, and shakes her butt to the crowd. Mostly men watch her dance, throwing dollars on the stage. This is the lower level, and it's always busy downstairs.

On the second level is a different story. Cardi B slow raps over a heavy bass. The main lights are purple, blue, and green, especially around the sign 'THE LGBT LEVEL' above the main stage where a black man with long dark dreads twerks in front of a pole. Before him are both women and men and those in between, much less in density than the lower level.

Guys in speedos holding drinks walk around men groping other men. A pale young man with no eyebrows and a single light contact on his right eye handles the few customers at the bar. As he mixes a gentleman his cranberry vodka, a man's high-pitched voice blares through the heavy door behind him.

"No fucking way, Dante!" A sign is posted outside saying, 'DANCERS ONLY'. Behind the door, a black twink in only jean shorts paces around, cursing and shaking his head.

Another larger man lighter in skin tone with a cheetah jacket and puffed shoulders stands before him. His arms are folded and his red lips pinches into his cheek. "How many times do I have to tell you, Troi! It's 'The Dante'. Why you pressed, bitch? It's twenty more dollars! Telling me your broke ass can't pay a stage fee?" His extra curly and shiny hair slaps his face when he moves his head.

"Eighty dollars is reasonable, but a hundred is ridiculous." Troi Mahogani stomps his converse on concrete to his locker where a naked nonbinary person brushes their pressed, light purple hair. "Right, XTC?" Troi points them.

XTC cocks their bushy brow. "I can afford it." They puts their hair up into a tight ponytail, staring blankly at Troi.

"Exactly, bitch! Quit complainin'." The Dante Jenkins whips his hair then body and struts to the office, passing other men changing into thongs and tight boxers. He swirls around to ask everyone, "Anyone else wanna bitch about a stage fee?"

"Nope." XTC answers for everyone.

"Then pay up, whores!" The Dante holds his hand out. Troi snatches his Gucci wallet from his matching purse and pulls out a crisp hundred dollar bill. He drops the wallet inside before slamming the graffitied locker and walks across the dressing room. The door opens as he passes.

The Dante snatches the bill out of Troi's hand and looks at the man in a black track suit and sunglasses as he wonders inside. He smiles at his headliner, "Happy birthday, Mars." A few other guys say the same.

I take off my sunglasses. "Thank you."

"Stage fee is a hundred dollars." Troi points at me. "You okay with that?"

"Why did it go up?" I go to The Dante with my hand in my purse.

"Don't worry about it." The Dante holds his hand out. I give him a hundred, looking down on him. "Today is the day, babe. Your little birthday special. I can't wait to see what you got."

"I mostly dance from the heart. So, I can't wait either."

"You're kidding right?" Troi tilts his head down.

"Mostly."

The Dante humphs and faces the office. "That's why you're an OG."

Troi and I go to the large, graffitied lockers. Mine is on the end next to XTC's. These are the OG lockers because we've been here more than a few years. They're decorated with slutty stickers, crude sharpie drawings, and mirrors. I greet XTC, who slid up leather shorts.