Baby Valentine

1 | the beginning

// Soon you will be mine - Falling for you, The 1975 //

As a dancer, you were always prostituting yourself, whether you were spinning pirouettes at the prestigious New York City Ballet before hundreds of eyes or working as a dancer in a nightclub on the Las Vegas Strip. You were always screwed, selling your body either to the state or to paying, lustful men who enjoyed bare skin just as much as dogs enjoyed a raw piece of meat. 

If dancing was the only thing you had ever truly learned, it often boiled down to one of those two career options. I couldn't say for certain which one was better, although I knew both the spotlight on the grand New York stage and the thundering applause, as well as the greedy looks and obscene comments of married or divorced lonely men at The Pearl, Sin City's most famous strip club. Both options had their pros and cons, making it hard to choose. However, if you were willing to trade handcrafted costumes and pointe shoes for tight leather outfits and high heels, life as a stripper tended to be better. 

Not only could you enjoy more freedom, you also made significantly more money. At the theatre, most of the income went to the government rather than the dancers. At The Pearl, however, every penny you made went into your own pocket – or rather, your bustier – making you completely independent. Plus, you rarely had to attend rehearsals and got spared the tough auditions before a grand jury. You were metaphorically free, not just physically but also mentally, if you stayed away from the drugs, that was. 

There was an abundance of deals every night at The Pearl, punctuated by the occasional clink of glass vials and the rustle of bills exchanging hands. Sometimes, small plastic bags of white powder or colourful pills scattered onto the floor like discarded dreams. At times, they accidentally fell into the hands of once hopeful, naive twenty-year-olds who had dropped out of school to become big-time dancers. There were plenty of such failed girls at The Pearl, and their empty eyes and emaciated, naked bodies always frightened me anew, making me swear never to swallow to give in and get high. 

Although the temptation was great some nights when the mood didn't really get going, my self-discipline, honed over the years as a ballerina, was greater than the urge to get stoned into oblivion. It was probably also why, even after two years, I still kept my distance from the other girls and didn't seem to fit into the club's establishment, though I had become its most popular dancer over time. In fact, the guests loved me, despite me being too serious and aloof, just as we were taught at the ballet theatre. For years, I had learned to be graceful and float across the stage like a feather, not how to move my body to the music in short, sharp beats. Yet, it seemed that this very elegance and my long swan-like neck were what the crowd liked so much. Especially tonight, when The Pearl was once again bursting at the seams and an electrifying buzz filled the air. 

 I was incredibly hot, and I felt the lace-covered bodysuit sticking to my bare skin just as much as the eyes of the men, who mostly enjoyed our show in groups at their tables, but occasionally also with their wives or girlfriends. Their gazes were both repulsive and arousing, and yet, in the seductively velvety darkness of the club and the warm glow of the dimmed lighting, it was the only thing that felt truly real. Everything else, the music, the sweaty, half-naked bodies of the other girls on stage, seemed far away and almost entirely out of my reality's grasp. I felt nearly trance-like, moving as if my body was guided by a foreign energy. 

Sweat beaded on my forehead under the blonde bangs of my wig, and as I spun around my pole again, I closed my eyes, focusing for a moment solely on the pounding of my heart. It seemed to pulse in perfect sync with the bass, undeterred by the abrupt change in music. Upon opening my eyes again, I bent my knees slightly and sensually swayed my hips. At the same time, I tossed my hair over my shoulder in a seductive gesture and peered into the crowd, whose eyes were fixed on me and the other dancers.