isabella [h.s.]

nineteen

A.N. https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/ - if you haven't yet, pls go to this link for some great resources to help in the BLM movement, such as petitions, donation pages, contact information, and other educational resources. At a time where our social media feeds are slowly returning to 'normal', it's so important that we keep this conversation going!! I for one am not going to shut up about this until mass change is implemented and justice is served, and I very much hope that all of you reading this feel the same! 🖤

**You don't own me
I'm not just one of your many toys**

ISABELLA

I climb down from the main stage after finishing my second pole dance of the night, having to be extra careful so I don't fall down the steps in my six inch heels. The floor of the stage is now covered in crisp notes that were thrown during my dance, which one of the stage guards begins to sweep up into a black bin liner which will be labelled with my name and handed to me at the end of the night - although, not until Trey has deducted however much he's in the mood to take tonight. He still seems to be changing the percentage of his cut every other night, and I'm beginning to think it's time for us girls to do something about it. I'm not quite sure what though, but I'm sure when he pisses me off again I'll be able to think of some good ideas.

After giving the stage guard a thankful smile for gathering up the money, I saunter back through the dark club in search for another one of my regulars. My body seamlessly moves along with the sultry music thumping through the club, my hips and ass perfectly swaying in time with the beat. My steps are tinged with my usual air of confidence and sexiness, which is only heightened by the reaction of the men I pass by, their wide eyes scanning me up and down and still lingering on me even long after I'm gone. Tonight, I'm wearing a pink bodysuit with a deep v-neck which plunges down to my navel, the sparse fabric just managing to cover my nipples and the thong offering a full view of my ass. My legs are adorned in a pair of diamanté fishnet tights, but even they leave little to the imagination. To match the bodysuit, my usual brown hair has been swept up and replaced with a pink pageboy wig, which I gently tug on now to ensure it's in place as I weave my way through the club towards the bar.

However, I don't actually manage to reach the bar before my path is obstructed by no other than Trey, who I notice is sporting a new chain tonight. I can't say I'm surprised to see that's where his cut of our hard-earned money goes, because he seems to have this strange kind of addiction to making himself look like more of a gangster than he'll ever be. Deciding to just ignore this for now, I pull my hands from my wig and fold my arms across my chest. "What do you want?" I ask rather rudely, but we passed the point of pretending to be nice to each other a long time ago. Just because I work for him doesn't mean I have to like him. In fact, I'm pretty sure most of the girls who work here don't like him either.

"I need you to go do a private room in the back," he tells me simply.

I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why? None of my regulars have booked private rooms."