Basically Just Smut

1

As we arrived at the burlesque lounge, giggling and gossiping, I got out of the car and picked up my kit bag.
"Its going to be a big turnout tonight girls! All the army college recruits have just graduated and they'll all be here to celebrate!" Nicole said, flipping her bleached hair.
"There's some really hot boys and girls this year! I've seen them all training. And those biceps-" Marissa piped in.
"Still, they always get the drunkest... I hope there aren't any.. er.. problematic ones this year," my roomate, Kayla interrupted, rolling her honey brown eyes and shaking her head at me- of course Marissa was focussed on the appearance of the people we danced for. She went home with whoever piqued her interest, and it's a miracle she hasn't got an STD yet to be honest.

I was never that bold... Of course there were exceptions, but... I liked to have an emotional bond before I have a sexual one. In my occupation, I found it easier to close off this part of my life, and label it as a different person. I put myself in a different mood when I dance like that... A mood my university (and loved ones) probably wouldn't want to see. Still, I had to pay my tuition somehow, and if I'm being honest with myself, sometimes I really, really enjoy it. And if it means I can get my degree in music with less debt afterwards... why wouldn't I?

We got into our costumes for the evening and reapplied our lipsticks with copious quantities of setting spray, contoured our jaws and double checked our hair.

As I walked onto my booth, I took in the half-full room that I knew would soon be packed. While the customers were still coming in and the band warming up, I thought I'd stretch out. One of the main reasons the managers hired me is because I'm the flexible one. Kayla is the best at pole with her strong arms, Nicole is the twerker with her curvy body, Marissa is the thin one with the most plastic surgery and the perkiest tits- we all have our individual niches and appeals to the crowd. As I go into a split, a man wolf-whistles from the crowd. I ignore it but smile with confidence to myself. I know I look good tonight, with my new red lipstick and all black outfit.

As I continue to stretch I listen to the band and as much as I try not to listen, my music training kicks in. The saxophonist is sharp- and the drummer should stop playing so loudly or nobody will be able to hear if they're out of tune or not!

Thankfully, they do quit it for a while, probably gone to get a drink. A piano sings out above the voices of the club, shocking me, in large sweeping scalic patterns.

At least we have one decent musician in this place. Must be new.

I can't play in the band myself- they're not interested in a flute player. And once the managers saw my body and my flexibility... I don't think they would've wanted me fully clothed in the band pit anyway.

Eventually, there are enough customers to get started, and we all take our positions. The band starts up with a silky jazz number and I just start to roll my body gently to the beat. The audience are there to stare at my body, not recruit me for my dance talent. At the beat drop I slowly lowered myself into a middle splits, arching my back so my ass is sticking up in the air, a move I knew was particularly flattering on my thighs, especially with my tall platforms. The music started to pick up tempo, and the piano really was the star of the show, improvising over the whole band with complex chords and riffs that overlapped like waves and caused my body to ripple in time. I lost myself in the music.

The crowd got progressively more drunk, more raucous. They were desensitised to our bodies by now, and had gained far too much courage. The small ensemble in front of my booth happened to be the bravest tonight,and while they chucked money at me, I got that gut feeling that they were getting a bit too... overexcited. One of the taller men with black cropped hair started pushing himself up onto my stage, and I attempted to playfully nudge him away with my toes in a flirty manner, attempting to save the situation and downplay it. He just grabbed the heel of my shoe and started dragging me towards him, his slimy lips on my ankle making their way up my leg to where his other hand was reaching for my ass.

The club went silent and loud all at once as the music stopped, his friends stopped jeering and my friends started shouting security.

I felt myself being wrenched by the shoulders away from the oily man's grasp by firm warm hands, and from where I sat on the ground an imposing dark figure stood protectively in between me and the man.

He was wearing band uniform and had broad shoulders I could recognise anywhere.