The Maze

Luna

I can't believe he would actually ask about my Maze. That's not fair. Why would he give me that kind of hope? It's stupid to wish for a specific outcome of your Maze. That just leads to silly dreams and broken hearts. If I let myself wish for something, I'll just be disappointed. I huff loudly, causing a passerby on the sidewalk to give me a funny look.

I spent about an hour walking around in an angry haze, trying to calm down. It sucks that I wasted my free time in a bad mood but it's not a good idea to bring those emotions in with me. Before I knew it, it was time to go into work.

When I walked into the building, the club lights weren't on yet. The bar tender greeted me by shouting my name. I smiled and waved at him as I made my way to the changing room in the back. I stopped by the bathroom on the way back to clean my face so that it's ready for my later make up routine. I then made my way over to the vanity with all my stuff on it. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and slide my head band on to hold my bangs back.

I start by applying primer to my face so that my look lasts all night. I follow that by putting foundation on my brush and sweeping it over my face and blending it in. Normally I skip the concealer, but staying up most of the night is beginning to appear under my eyes. Contouring follows, then I find the shiniest highlighter powder I own and sweep it along my cheekbones and around the side of my nose. I dab a light amount of blush over my cheeks and make sure to blend it in enough that it doesn't stand out on my pale skin. I finish up my makeup by doing my eyes. Starting with a dark maroon eye shadow to make my blue eyes stand out, then a think sweeping winged liner and finishing with a couple coats of mascara.

Once I'm done with my makeup, I walk to the clothing rack and pull off my dress. The white satin fabric slid over my body easily and fell just above my knee with a slit that ran up my thigh on one side. The gold straps sat on my shoulders and fabric around my chest hung low, leaving my cleavage bear. There wasn't much to leave to the imagination. I took my headband off and let my hair out of its messy prison. After a bit of coaxing and a lot of products, it fell in messy waves around my face. I took a few strands from the sides of my face and twisted them back, pinning them together with a small, clear band.

"Scarlett, doll, you're up."

I took a breath and smiled at myself in the mirror before standing up and walking through the silk curtain.

Whistles and shouts greeted me on the other side over the loud, pumping bass of the music. I closed my eyes and sauntered my way out onto the stage. My hips kept time to the beat and I let my arms slide up my body and over my head. When I reached the pole, I turned to lean my back against it, hands loosely around the metal to hold myself steady, and dropped down to a squat and slowly back up. I let the music control me as I moved my body around the pole. I kept my eyes closed and let the pulsing beat fill my ears. Sometimes, I can forget that I'm dancing. I've been doing it for long enough that it comes naturally now and I don't need to focus on what I'm doing. I can zone out and let my arms pull my body around the pole and move in a way that would satisfy those in the audience. I opened my eyes to smile and wink at the men who were waving bills at me and throwing them onto the stage. I made my way over to them and leaned forward, making eye contact with one of them. He took that as an invitation to stuff money into my cleavage and I responded by running a hand lightly down his cheek. I then stepped off stage and made my way to someone sitting down. I straddled his hips and once again let the music control the movement of my body against his.

Once the music died down, I collected the money from the stage and walked back through the curtain. I collapsed on the leather couch, body heavy and sweaty. I pulled out the cash stuffed in various areas to combine with the money in my hand. One twenty all together. Not a bad night. I sigh and closed my eyes. One down, one to go. We perform in turns, to give each other a break from the prying eyes and hands. It's a smaller venue, so there's only three of us, giving us two dances a piece. I usually bring home around three hundred on a good night. I don't like it, but I have to get out of that orphanage. I have to find out where I'm from. And I can't do that if I'm broke.

Finding work before your Maze is hard. It's somewhat easier when you're pretty. I started dancing when I was 15. Not many places hire dancers at that age, but once girls finish their Maze, they don't normally come back. And since I have no parents to object, all I had to do was sign a waiver and everything was fine. I think the club also got away with it by a technicality. Since the position is an exotic dancer and not a stripper, you only have to be of legal working age and not a legal adult. I guess the Fathers decided they still needed their entertainment even though it's not a 'productive part of society'. Funny how that works.

I never intended to become a dancer. It's just one of those things that happened. I had been looking for a job for months when I came across a Help Wanted flyer. I guess being 5'5" and lacking access to enough food comes in handy. The red hair didn't hurt either.

After what seemed like five minutes, it was my turn again. I touched up my make up and got changed. I decided to go with a slower song for this dance. I wore deep blue, star sparkled pants with a matching crop top. One strap hung off my shoulder and the neck line hung low enough to show the lacy black of my bra. I wore glittery perfume to make my skin shine in the lighting. I snagged a shot from the table by the door and downed it quickly before putting on my fake smile and seductive looks. The shouts and whistles assaulted my ears once more for a moment before the slow melody drowned them out. It was later in the night and the crowd had doubled at this point. My movements this time around were slow and precise, hips dipping low around the pole. The cool metal felt like a relief under the hot lights that shone hard on me.

I noticed a younger man sitting alone at a table to the right of the stage. It wasn't uncommon for men to come in alone, or to sit during my dances. However, the air of superiority that radiated off him was different from those around him. It was like he knew he was better than everyone here and he wasn't afraid to show it. He uncrossed his legs and looked right at me, but not in a way that asked for a dance. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped between them. My eyes locked with his chocolate brown ones and my movements halted for a moment before I could regain my composure. I stepped off the stage and sauntered my way over to the man. He smirked at me and his eyes roamed over my body. Normally, men paid extra for personal dances, but I try to do at least one a night to pique interest.

I straddled his lap and put my fingers in his hair. This was the only way I could talk to him. Dancers aren't allowed in the main area while the club is open. If I didn't try now, I might miss him completely. I let my hips dance. He seemed to enjoy it if the stiffness in his pants was any indication. I leaned my lips toward his ear.

"What are you doing here, Ryan?"

"I can't enjoy the show?" He put his hands on my hips and began to move them himself.

"You can see the show any day."

He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. "It's the experience, Scarlett" He slid a large bill under the lace the peeked from around my top.

I rolled my eyes as I climbed off his lap. I let one finger trail down his chest and then back up. I slowly walked around the chair he sat in, my finger sliding along his shoulder. Ryan was a usual that frequented specifically on nights that I had sets. I don't know much about him except that he dresses nice and tips even better. And that he's one of the most beautiful men I've ever laid eyes on. He never asked for a private dance, but sometimes I wish he did. For more than the money.

I'd spend the rest of my set with him if I could. But the whistles of the men around me that I wasn't his to keep. I made my way back on stage, throwing a lingering look over my shoulder in hopes that maybe tonight I'd get some alone time with him. After my dance was over, I did get a few private requests but none of them were him. Actually, that was the last time I saw him that night. I left the club that night with a full bag of cash but still somewhat disappointed.