The engine light came on a few blocks from the club. There were no abnormal sounds, and it didn't feel any different. She drove the last few blocks to work and parked the car in the back lot. All the other gauges were fine, and she gave the interior a sniff to see if there was any smoke or burning smell. Still nothing.
The car was new enough that it shouldn't be happening, but the warning light was there just the same. Blair turned off the car and got out. One more thing to worry about later. She grabbed her suitcase full of her gear and headed into the club.
Club 205 wasn't the biggest or the cleanest strip club in the area, but they did a robust business. Especially on Friday nights. The swing shift on Friday nights was highly sought after, and the competition was fierce. It took Blair awhile before she secured a spot, but now that she had it, she would fight tooth and nail to keep it. Fridays paid the bills. Blair nodded to the doorman and wheeled her case into the club and headed for the changing room.
She said hi to a few of the girls who had become her friends, and ignored the few that weren't. The nature of their work could be looked at as competition, and some of the other dancers took it too seriously. Most of them tried to be friendly about it. They were all in the same boat, trying to get by, half way between where they were and where they wanted to be. The mean girls never lasted too long anyway. Men could sense a heartless bitch, and subconsciously tipped less. Eventually the dancer would blow up, leave in a huff, damning all the cheap basters who never paid what she was worth.
Blair didn't mind the men. Well, most of them anyway. Drunks were ok, and you just pushed their hands away and moved on. The sober ones who did it on purpose were worse, because they knew exactly what they were doing. Those customers she avoided until they got the hint and left. Every now and then there was a mean guy, hurt by somebody else, looking to pass it on. That's what the bouncers were for. Those ones didn't come back.
Blair got her outfit on and then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She wanted to put herself in a good frame of mind. Happy, friendly, flirty; those were the keys to success. Cheery meant cash, and fun meant funds. It was still hard to walk out that door and into the room, even after all this time. It did get easier, but she still thought about it every time.
Every woman in the room complained about some part of themselves. Too fat, too skinny, small boobs, bad hair, butt dimples. One of her friends always complained about a small scar on her shoulder, but had the biggest boobs of any of the dancers. Blair told her more than once that men didn't even know she had shoulders with boobs like that. The reassurance fell on deaf ears. To her, a flaw was a flaw.
Blair was a little too tall. Most nights it didn't bother her, but sometimes she envied the tiny elf girls who moved around with such pixie grace and speed. She felt like she was too slow and lumbering sometimes, but it was not something she dwelled on. Growing up she played sports and her body was tanned and toned. She definitely preferred that to the twiggy stick figure some of her coworkers had. Most men wanted meat on their bones. With a smile on her face, she headed out onto the floor to see how soon she was up.
The club had two stages, front and back. For some reason most of the customers and money gravitated towards the front stage. All the girls rotated through both stages in a pattern, depending on how many girls were dancing that night. If ten girls were working, and each set was four minutes, then you only got on the main stage every forty minutes. That was your time to shine, and to work the rail. The more people you had sitting down, the better your rake would be. It also meant you had to move faster, going from person to person. Everyone wanted their few seconds of interaction, and customers would feel jilted if you never got to them. It didn't matter that they got to sit three feet away from you naked for two songs, they wanted their moment.
The stage is also where you advertised for lap dances later. Men could see you walking around the room, strutting your stuff, but the stage is where you really got to show off. You danced, twisted and twirled. You made eye contact, and you smiled. That is what got you the private dances later.
When Blair's name was called, she headed for the main stage, and climbed into the octagon. She stashed her purse off to the side, and wiped down the pole in the middle. Not everyone did, but she always did. As soon as the music started Blair took in her fish. The men sitting around the rail were the fish, and Blair was fishing. You needed to hook them, and then reel them in. Friendly enough to separate them from their hard-earned money, but fast enough to hit them all by the end of the song. She only had three this time, and tried not to groan in frustration. Only three fish on her fist dance on a Friday night?
There was a younger couple sitting together, and a lone guy off to the right. She started with the couple since there were two of them, with money in front of each. She spoke to them, laughed with them, and then straddled the woman's lap. She was drunk and happy, and immediately started slapping her ass.
"Gentle!" Blair called out over her shoulder.
The woman did ease up a bit, but was very handsy the whole time. Blair moved back to the pole and danced for them and shook her ass. She spun around the pole once and headed for the guy now. He was older than her, but had a good smile on his face. He moved his drink for her and she laid down on the bar in front of him with her face near his face. She was about to ask her standard question of 'how's your night going' when he spoke first.
"I would have been gentler," he said.
His quick comment made her smile even brighter. He had a good voice that was both low and masculine. Those eyes though, they were something. Warm deep eyes that not only watched her, but saw her. You could feel them looking into you. Blair forged ahead with her script.
"How's your night going?" she asked, arching her body so he could look at more of her.
"It got a lot better about five minutes ago," he said honestly.
Blair had heard every line before, because there were only so many. This was one of her favorites though, and especially when it was offered quickly and honestly.
"That's my favorite answer!" she said and smiled.
"Mmmmm," he mumbled, deep in his throat.
"I may just follow you around all night like a puppy, I might even follow you home," he said.
Those eyes had some heat too. Blair was long past the point where she got aroused at work. Her work was just a job. Still, every now and then, there was a hint of something. An echo her body seemed to hear and remember.
"I might just let you," Blair said, before standing up and continuing her routine.
She moved around, made some eye contact in the room, but kept glancing back at that guy. He was always looking. It was the good kind of look too. Not leering, not creepy, and not the mouth breather type. This was warm and appreciative. She finished the song and moved around to gather her money. When she got to the lone guy, she leaned forward to get closer to that smile.
"Thank you," she said, opening the door for him to keep talking.
"It's been a long time since I was here, how much is a lap dance?" he asked softly.
He was cute, she decided. His boyish charm was genuine. She gave him one of her dazzling smiles and said it all in a rush.
"A lap dance is $40 for one song, or three songs for $100," Blair said quickly.
"Ouch," he said, "um, I would love to, really, I just need to wait a little while," he said.
Most men balked at the price, but some of them took it right away. She found herself wanting to dance for him. She wanted to get behind that curtain with him.
"What if I took your hand and just dragged you with me?" Blair said softly.
Now the color came up in his cheeks for the first time. Embarrassed and cute.
"Then I would probably let you," he said.
He looked back over to the table where his friends sat and let out a heavy sigh.
