Damaged Goods

Chapter Five

The next couple of days passed quite quickly, me and Dan saw each other a few times around the block and sometimes walking about in the city and even on rare occasions in University. I was pretty shocked if I'm honest, badboy Dan goes to University! Haha.

However, it was quite awkward I mean I practically broke down on his front step. Of course he was all to kind about it, but it's only because that's what any decent human being would do! If you saw a girl crying you wouldn't just walk past, right? Exactly.

Tonight I have work. My job is 3 days on the weekdays and Saturdays, so basically part time. I hate it with all my mite, but I can't do anything about it. It pays the bills after all.

I am a pole dancer and occasional lap dancer when they need a spare. It all comes down to my dancing, I could never get a job as a dancer as there was never in my area or close by (I had to stay around New York for University) but there weren't any and one day when I was walking down the street I saw a poster for this job, so me being me I said fuck it.

Nobody knows... Not even Phoebe. And I would Jolly well like it to stay that way. I can't even imagine the look on Phoebe's face if she found out. No, actually I can. It'd be pure disgust and I would know her thoughts too, 'what a dirty whore'.

I pull the leotard sort of outfit up my legs and over my shoulders. It's black with big patches missing showing my skin, one patch showing the right side of my stomach and going around to a bit higher than my last few ribs then just above my breasts there's another patch of skin showing that goes round to the right, also.

It's okay I guess.

I then slide my skinny jeans that look pretty good and a tight black crop top around my chest but loosens when it gets to mid stomach. Grabbing my denim jacket I rush out the door.

My slot is at 7:30-10:30 with a half and hour break, I'm pretty lucky tonight (Monday) because normally it'll be 7 ish till midnight or sometimes even later and only one 45 minute break. It wares me out that's for sure.

I reach the Bar, where my job is situated, in the nick of time - 6:59. Shrugging my denim jacket off my shoulders and pulling the skinny jeans, that let me tell you are terrible to get into never mind get out of, looking like a bunny as I hop around pulling one side of then the next.

Eventually my outer clothes are off and I'm left in my leotard and black high heels.

For the next few minutes I do a warm up consisting of stretching (head to to and side to side) and a few others before heading to my position behind the large, black, sheek curtain that hangs behind the stage, hiding the dancers from the crowded audience. There are 3 poles all in all and you can do your routine with 2 others or solo. Normally, I enjoy solo as you don't have to worry about keeping up with them and vice versa.

After a minute or two of waiting I hear the music that a different women was using fade out to a almost eery silent.

"Next up we have Mist, undeniably sexy and the best we have here, give a round of applause for this angel!" My gay friend shouts in a microphone. And yes, he is actually gay - I'm not homophobic.

I strut out swaying my curved hips and the curtains part allowing a clear path for me to walk down.

Once I'm out I turn to Alex the presenter person, whatever you call it, and blow a kiss before winking and turning back around.

I slowly make my way to the end of the stage before turning sideways and dropping like a squat, but much much lower. You could call it a slut drop, lets be honest. I hate it as much as the next person but this is the consequences of this job.