Afterglow ❃ l.m.j

• chapter three •

Sometimes as a sex worker, you take L's.

Nights are slow, and money isn't coming in as much as you like. Or maybe after splitting all of your tips with the staff you're reduced to pennies. Sometimes clients are even irate and too touchy for your liking.

For me, I knew my previous experience with Normani was my loss of the week. But I knew how to bounce back.

Realistically it wasn't my first lust filled encounter with anyone - it was just my first with someone who made me feel... excited to know and learn them. She was exact but endearing. A little easily persuaded. Pretty as hell. And the kind of face you see once and just can't shake. You remember it even days after.

The way she stared into my eyes but was also so gentle with her touch... Fuck. And just so... straightforward. She said what she meant and meant what she said and it was very apparent. And obviously attractive.

But once I'd settled home that night with a glass of wine, a nice bubble bath, palo santo and some Ari Lennox, I was able to push that (and my nervous breakdown in the private room) aside.

Some days the way I felt about my own body crept into my workspace and I think this weekend was just one of those times.

But after the promotional poster flew around the venue and people heard about my set, I had no time to be self conscious. Everyone wanted a piece of me.

The Sunday after Sacrificial Saturday was no different.

I was clad in a skin tight slip dress that stopped just below my ass, and I honestly stuck out like a sore thumb. Majority of the other girls were wearing bikinis and two pieces. But all I had to say was that it was Sunday and I was taking a holier than thou approach and my conscience seemed to leave me alone.

The men certainly didn't seem to mind. Sundays typically ran slower but everywhere I turned it was like a guy was asking for a dance or attempting to strike up a conversation.

Playing the daily part of Peaches was a full time job, no matter how I put it. And I was clocking in steady hours.

"You are so fucking fine," My latest customer slurred, his eyes grazing me up and down as I sat in his lap.

His lips damn near dripped of Hennessy and I could smell it all on him. Not even the sweetest fake smile that I could muster was covering up my disgust.

One of the security guards was close by so I didn't feel too uneasy. But I was wary of his hands. They were currently rubbing on my ass and if I was lucky, he wouldn't try and go any further than that.

Even with the security here, men would still push their luck. I've heard stories of them grabbing other girls in different places and it made me groan every time. As grateful as I am that it has yet to happen much to me, I also don't like that it happens to them when I'm not around. I'll happily step in and stomp on someone's neck for fucking with one of the dancers.

I'm telling you, you don't realize how much men don't fear God until you start working in a strip club.

And it's not that they didn't really put themselves in a position for me to view them as ruthless growing up. I ran into ignorance. But the kind of catcalling and insults I ran into wasn't just men. It was all across the board. DL boyfriends, girls who picked me to experiment until they realized what was in my pants and decided I was too weird to take a chance on.