With more giggles, we hurry forward and a few minutes and several crowded blocks later, Pet and I reach our destination: Sanctum. The building isn’t much to look at from the outside, but that’s the whole point behind its understated design. It’s a huge, stone structure with shuttered windows and a small gated courtyard out front. It looks normal, and not at all like a den of sin, which is its true function.

The doorman holds the glass doors open, and Pet and I gratefully step into the main lobby, which is air-conditioned, thankfully.

“Dang, that was tough, and it was only four blocks,” I say.

“Yeah,” Pet remarks. “Come on, let’s get to the locker room.”

We make our way through the lobby, which is also relatively innocuous looking. Of course, there are marble floors and nice bouquets, but those are all par for the course in Manhattan. Soon, we’re in an elevator on our way up, and I turn to smile at my friend.

“Are you excited for the event tonight?” I ask, taking a deep breath.

Pet giggles. “I guess. To be honest, I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this because I don’t know anything about belly dancing.”

I giggle.

“Yeah, but you know what I told you before. This is Sanctum belly dancing, so it’s not exactly your normal wiggle of the hips.”

Pet nods.

“I’m intrigued I have to say,” she murmurs. “I had no idea it was even anatomically possible but then after you showed me those YouTube videos … woo hoo! It’s going to be crazy.”

I wink.

“You got that right.”

But then, the elevator dings and we arrive at our floor. Unlike the inconspicuous exterior and lower lobby, the private areas of Sanctum are at another level when it comes to decor. The elevator doors open to reveal a plushly carpeted hallway, along with glittering chandeliers and gold-tinted wallpaper. And this is just a hallway, so you can imagine what the rest of the club looks like.

Hurriedly, Pet and I wind our way towards the dressing rooms, our excitement mounting. Tonight’s going to be great, and as hostesses we dance, sing, drink with our clients, and make a lot of tips. Of course, what we do isn’t exactly above board, but that’s part of the thrill. After all, life at Sanctum is all about fantasies, and we like to indulge on occasion.

Once we get into the women’s locker room, we stuff our bags into our lockers and then shower quickly, washing off the stickiness of the New York heat. I pad toward my little nook in the locker room and quickly begin getting dressed.

“That shower was heavenly,” I sigh while slipping on a lacy bra. I scoop my boobs upward so that they look even perkier and stare at myself in the mirror. The lace is so sheer as to be practically transparent, and of course, it’s about two cup sizes too small so that my orbs spill out in creamy swells.

“I know, I totally needed it,” Pet agrees, her face contorted as she carefully applies eye makeup in the mirror. Then, she steps back and admires her work. “Girl, I love this eyeliner!” she raves. “This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it the best?!” I agree, nodding approvingly at her handiwork. “Estee Lauder has really outdone themselves,” I state, “and my employee discount is worth its weight in gold.”

After all, I don’t work at Sanctum full-time. Instead, my main job is selling cosmetics at a high-end department store, and then I also moonlight as a babysitter on occasion. I know, it’s so schizophrenic but you have to do what you have to do to get by in NYC because this place is expensive. For me, that means working three jobs in three completely different fields, and I like it actually. Each position is a nice break from the others, even if I have to focus to get my head in the right space sometimes.

“Your employee discount is pretty sweet,” Pet muses. “I wonder if I should start working at a makeup counter since I spend so much money on cosmetics. Seriously, I’d save so much money.”

I grin. “Yeah, Estee Lauder doesn’t pay a ton, but their commissions are okay, and the discounts are definitely a perk. Although obviously, it’s Sanctum that’s keeping a roof over my head. I don’t sell enough lipstick to pay rent. Not even close.”

Pet nods.

“I know, girlfriend,” she sighs. “My real job pays so little too,” she laments. “I think everyone at my level has a second job, to be honest. I mean, thirty thousand dollars? Who can survive on that in New York?”

I nod, sweeping my curly brown hair back from my face as I run a brush through it. The locks are glossy and full, and I rub some product into it to give it even more of a sheen.

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