The Delicate Art of Living Off of Caffeine

Chapter 1

"This really isn't necessary," Dex stated as Biana smacked his face with a beauty blender. He could always expect this scene to play out once or twice a week, but it didn't make Biana's quest to perfectly blend his foundation any better to endure. "I'd need to be pretty stupid to not understand how to do this by now."

"And yet my makeup always looks better. Now, stay still." Dex wished he could argue, but there wasn't a point. There was a reason why on bigger show nights Biana and sometimes Sophie would step in to get everyone ready for the crowd.

Despite the, albeit slightly embarrassing, moral support, Dex couldn't help being insanely nervous. He'd been dancing for almost a year now, but due to the questionable legality of his employment, he'd never had a front and center performance on one of the big nights until now. It wasn't like he was doing any of the main events of the evening and he had worked the crowd like this before, but that was when the club was a third empty. All it took was one person to recognize him or question why one of the staff looked younger than the others and Dex would be out.

Biana started with her powdery products. "You need to relax a little! Not only is the stress on your face making my job more difficult, but you can't look like you're about to hurl on stage."

"Thanks for the understanding."

"Oh, come on. Cut him some slack." Sophie defended from her job of cleaning brushes. "It's an important night."

"But, he's got this!" At least one of them thought so.

Dex turned his head for the makeup artist to get a good angle for contour. "I'm not worried about the performing part of it." He mumbled.

"Please, you act like the whole CIA is after you." She pouted. "Just chill and no one will bat an eye, now get your costume on and we'll finish this after."

Well, the verdict was made. With minimum groaning about his 'caring friends,' Dex picked up his outfit from his area of the dressing room. Every once in a while, it smacks Dex over the head how desensitised he's become to all of this; five nights a week in the back part of downtown with everyone ranging from a few rotating-out drug addicts to some college student trying to cover loans showing up for work with all the same glitz and glam. No one exactly worked here as a first choice career option, but it wasn't the worst thing. God, wasn't that weird to think working at a strip-club wasn't the worst thing?

On the bright side, Dex pretty much had a changing area to himself. As you would expect, fellow guys aren't super common around here, leaving the male dressing space to just him, which could hardly be considered a down side. He glanced down at the clothing in his arms and sighed. It'd never get easier to change and then get seen by his closest friends especially when that included fishnets and tall stiletto heels in which falling could cause him to accidentally impale the nearest person.

Tights first, shoe last, Dex reminded himself as he pulled up skin-hugging shorts snug around his hips before lacing up the back of a shamrock green corset that ended just past his chest in a sweetheart neckline. Mirrors line the front wall of the room surrounded by lightbulbs as if this place was originally at the back of a classic theater, letting Dex see how the ensemble came together. At any other time, he would have said that this color scheme made him look like a glorified leprechaun paired with his freckles and parted strawberry-blond hair, but no little Irish dude could look this ready to step on someone. Time to hope the audience felt the same.

"Ok, sit." Biana ordered the moment Dex stepped back into the main dressing room. She had since put away her base products and had pulled out a whole pounds worth of colorful palettes that would make a hoard of preteens girls very jealous. She started by dusting a neutral tone on his eyelids as a base slowly working in deeper browns and copper glitters in his inner corners that 'really completed the look' as the artist would say. With an added touch of sharp winged eyeliner and mascara, the eye make-up was deemed acceptable judging by Biana backing up to check her work. "How's it look?"