The Alpha's Stripper

Chapter 1

I was casually walking around the club, minding my own business, forgetting I'm half naked. I wasn't even going to dance today, but drama still came my way.

"Hey you whore, get off my man," another angry girlfriend comes into the club, yelling at me.

It was only a lap dance, but judging by her face, it might as well have been sêx.

I can't help that her man likes my âss rubbing against him. He pays me well, and he's been coming to the club for me, for three months now. So if she had a tighter leash on him, she wouldn't have this problem. And if she pleased her man enough, he wouldn't come to the club to see me on the pole.

I get off him, and give her a death glare. She taking away my pay check. But of course, as a stripper, we learn to find details about a person. And as my eyes caught a nice diamond ring on her left hand, I knew I was dealing with his wife. And those are the worst.

"John! How could you?! Have you been having sêx with this tramp?!"

That's when I intervene, "Who you calling a tramp, bîtch?"

John heads over to his wife, trying to ease her anger. Telling her that we never had sêx, that this is a one time thing, this is his only time coming. All bullshît.

Yes, we've never had sêx, but my lap dances are not a 'one time thing' deal, and him coming just this once is all a complete lie.

"I cant believe you would do this to me! Me, your wife!"

Rolling eyes, I walk away from John and his physio wife. Cant women understand that their man going to the club is a stress reliever. It helps them wine down, get away from drama. For both of them.

Like most of the times I'm called to a private room, we usually just talk. They express their problems to me, and since they're paying me, I stay. And unlike therapist who charge way too much, they give me all the cash in their wallets at the time. And if they want more time to talk, they're an ATM right outside.

"Hey Kitty, what was that all about?" Dallas, one of the strippers who works here. I don't know her real name, but that's just because at the club we're not aloud to call each other by our real names.

"Nah, it was nothing. Just go tell Dony another wife came in and is in the third quarter of the building," I instruct her.

Dallas isn't new around here. But she's not a Veteran like I am.

Dallas and many other girls, including me work at The Rabbit Hole. It's the more fancier version on a strip club. It's in Miami, Florida on the more wealthier side.

I get paid around 10K a month. But most new girls here get a lot less. If you're a Vet, like myself, than you get a lot of benefits. Like Newbies cant go to the VIP section. Newbies cant get extra time on the pole. And like Vets have our dressing rooms, Newbies have to change at their house or in the bathroom stalls of the building.

Once Dallas walks off, I go to my dressing room. I need to get ready for my new job interview. And I know most strippers would think I'm crazy for leaving this job, but I'm not. Meaning I'm not leaving The Rabbit Hole. Ever since my roommate had that baby, we've been needing to have a bigger place. And we've found this really nice condo, up the street from here and with enough rooms for all of us.

I just need a little bit more of cash, then we can finalize the paper work.

Slipping on a v-neck and a pair of jeans. The interview is for a place called the Pack House. I read it in the daily news paper, all they really need is someone that can help around the kitchen. Like someone to do the dishes and maybe make a meal or two. The actual cooks are looking for assistants. So here I am, ready for the job.