White Knight [Editing]

2.

As I slid down the pole, our eyes locked.

We held eye contact for a long time before he held up a band of cash wrapped in yellow, $1,000. It made me blush a little bit, I think I had the stupidest smile on my face. I love when the men come in here just for me. I finished my pole dance the person who picks up my money gave me what I had made. $500. "Well, that was a waste," I said to myself.

I tucked it in my bra and walked over to the gentlman. "How much of that do you have?" I asked seductively referring to his money, rubbing his leg.

I felt him trail his finger down my back and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I was turned on. He had a unique look to him. Face full of tattoos, not too tall, but built. Chocolate, and I love chocolate.

I don't make it a habit to mess around seriously with guys I meet at the club. Kenny was the first and last, and I don't have to engage in sex for them to pay me so I never am into any of the men. But this guy was different. I was intrigued by him.

I grabbed his hoodie strings and led him to a private room as I laughed at his pathetic attempts to make a joke.

I sat him down on the bed and began to gyrate while straddled on his lap. He unwrapped the band of money and began to drown my body in tens.

Seeing that got me excited and I started my dance. While in the midst, I realized how much more attractive he is than I thought. He pulled out another band of money but this one was wrapped in mustard, $10,000. This man is paying for a hell of a lot of action. And I'm beyond willing to tend to his need.

I stopped dancing and squatted in order to give his waist. He covered my hand that was now on his belt. He lifted my body up so that we were staring eye to eye.

He laid the band of money in my hand and nodded his head towards the bed. "Sex?" I asked confused. I shrugged and was about to strip myself completely.

"Nah, shorty. I wanna talk to you."

My eyebrows burrowed. Does he not realize I'm at work? Talking isn't my job necessarily.

"Listen. I'd love to but this is my job. Either take it or leave it." I said straightforward.

A lot of guys try to butter us up, thinking we want to have a whole relationship in one night. I learned early that getting straight to the point cuts out the bullshit.

He smiled at my statement and turned away. He left.

I looked at the money all over the room and the money he left in my hand. "What the fuck? Ridiculous. He wanted a conversation? Of all things..." I mumbled to myself as I cleaned up.

I checked the clock and I was completely late. I should've stayed a while longer, but I decided to wrap up the night after two more songs and head on home. Thankfully I did those last two songs because some Georges came through with the big bucks, all $100. Hopefully, I made at least $15,000.

I rode up in the driveway and walked in the house quietly trying not to wake the girls.

"Mom!"

What causes children to be allergic to sleep nowadays? I do not understand why anybody would willingly stay up so late, especially little girls.

"Yes, Monroe?" I answered as I walked up the stairs with my dufflebag in one hand and my cash bag is the other. "Mom, Jet is refusing to go to bed. I told her you were working late and she sai–"

"Okay," I interrupted her, "thank you for telling me, Roe. Please get to bed and I'll take care of her after my shower," I said before walking away.

I went in my room and threw my bags down before getting in shower. My showers are usually pretty long. As much as I like the club, you don't want the scent, dirt, and sweat on you for too long.

The scent is a mix of men's cologne, dirty money, and women everything. But, on a bad day, ass aroma is an included scent.

I finished up quicker than usual because I had to get Jet to bed. They are on a break from school, but they still can't be up until all hours of the night.

I threw my robe on and walked across the hall to Jet's room and saw her reading a book. "Baby, you know you can't do this every time I work late."

"I know. It's just... Jamie dumped me," she said as tears began to fall down her face. Welp. This an uncomfortable position for a parent. I know she won't care in about a week but I can't tell her that.

"His lost. He was a nasty little boy anyway. I didn't want to tell you but I saw him pick his nose once and... he ate it," I said making her giggle a little.

"Mom. That's disgusting and you are so wrong for not telling me sooner," she said laughing. "Luckily, we never kissed, that'd be gross."

"Yeah, and you don't need your lips touching nobody else's, young lady. But, seriously, it'll be okay. Boys are stupid but some of them will cater to your every need and desire when you are old enough and they are smart enough."

I kissed her head and turned her light off on my way out. "How much did you make?" She asked stopping me in my tracks. I smiled at her question and closed her door.

Yes, they know I'm a stripper. There would be no reason for me to lie to them about my job. I've told them what happens at strip clubs and how this isn't my forever job. It's just a way to get through.

I've also told them that I am not doing this to inspire them to do it when they are older. They go to a private school, they are both at the top of their classes, they have straight A's. I made it clear they are to do better than me and our parents.

They do always ask how much I make a night. I never, ever, ever give them the answer to my salary. One, because it's a really good salary and I don't want them to think it means we are rich. Even though we are.

Two, I don't want them to think stripping is good enough. It's a great job and I'm one of the lucky people who get it good and I'm known so the tips are great. But unlike me, who today made around 15 grand, there are ladies on the same stage as me that go home with $500 a night. It's not a guaranteed job.

And three, it's not their business.

They know if they want something, they ask and if it's reasonable, they get it. Mostly they ask for cool stuff to wear that's allowed in their dress code. They wear plaid skirts or dresses, white shirts with a collar, a tie, any kind of dress flats or heels, vest or jacket or sweater, etc. It's a cool kind to be honest.

I went into my room and decided to count my money. I dropped it all on the floor and began to count. I counted for about an hour before I came across this ten that had writing on it.

"Dear shorty. Call a nigga. 555-2389. Bryan."

That was his name, Bryan.

I put that bill aside. After counting, I made just about $25,000. "Okay, Toni. I see you girl," I said doing a little happy dance.

I picked up the bill from Bryan and debated whether or not to call him. If I do, I'd have to apologize for my bluntness, potential rudeness in the private room. That alone was a deal breaker for me. I hate apologizing.

I turned on my TV and ended my wonderful birthday night watching my friend, Dave Chapelle's, comedy special on Netflix.
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Thoughts?

♥