Paige
I swallow hard and continue on my way with my tray trying my best to steady the drinks.
He’s here again tonight.
Why?
Is this a nightly thing for him? But he was watching me. He looked like he’d been staring for a while too.
I glance up to where I saw him standing and notice he’s not there anymore.
Where is he?
I get back to the table with my VIP guests. I’m supposed to entertain them for the evening. It’s five football players in their mid- to late thirties. None are wearing masks, so I recognized a few of them. Dad used to love sports and followed it religiously. I can’t remember names, but I know they play for the Ravens and would have played for many years.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” I ask sweetly as I set the tray down with their drinks.
“Yes, how about a lap dance for me and my friends? And take your clothes off,” says the guy with the spiky dark hair.
Oh my God… I’m in hell.
I am in hell. I forgot, or maybe I was confused. I thought that because I was out here, I wouldn’t have to take my clothes off. But I’m so stupid. They asked for me because I agreed to do anything.
“Oh… um… sure,” I rasp. My voice quivers.
Mimi told me too that these types of opportunities always garner tips in the thousand dollar region.
Imagine one thousand dollars or more just to give a few lap dances and strip. Strip right here where everyone can see me. Naked.
What else will I have to do?
As if in answer to my question, I look to my left and see Maria, one of the waitresses who started with me yesterday, having sex with some guy in the VIP section across from me. She’s not even wearing a mask. She’s riding his cock while another guy sucks her breasts.
My head feels light, and tears sting the backs of my eyes.
“Come on, sweetheart,” says the spiky-haired guy, snapping me from my thoughts. “Something wrong?”
“No,” I answer.
“Then take your clothes off,” he orders and shocks me by reaching for my ass so he can squeeze it. “You’re not shy sweetheart, are you?”
“No.”
I swallow hard and wish he would take his hands off me. I know I’m supposed to do anything, and I agree to whatever I’m asked, but there’s a limit. This feels like I’m at that limit although I haven’t done anything yet. I just don’t want to do any of it.
I get past it when the guy on my left runs his fingers over my left breast and gives me a leery smile.
What did I get myself into?
“Dance for us and strip while you do it.” I don’t know who says that because I’ve zoned out and tried to block out the horror— the man with his hands on my ass and the other guy groping my breast.
“Okay,” I say and back away from the torture.
Pulling in a breath, I will myself to do it. I think of Mom and the end goal. I remember I only have to do this for six months.
That thought makes me sway.
A club mix of the Lambada is filling the room. Since I can dance to anything I try to stay focused on the music and not the situation. I try to get lost in the beat.