Justine finished her stage set. A few random customers clapped as she proceeded to take her "walk of shame", circuiting the stage to collect her tips and discarded clothing. She clutched them to her chest as she scampered toward the back of the stage and exited down the stairs.
Justine moped through the hall to the dressing room. Once inside she went directly toward a row of metal lockers covered in chipping paint in a repulsive shade of pink. She fumbled with the combination lock and opened the door. She tossed her wadded up costume in her locker and began to count her tips.
The dressing room door opened and she turned to see Rosa, a plump Puerto Rican dancer of about 19. Rosa was competitive and petty, always trying to stir trouble. Justine cringed inwardly.
Rosa stomped across the room, her platform heels cracking obtrusively against the concrete floor. She plopped down on the wooden bench in the center of the room. "It's so fucking slow tonight!" She whined in her thick Spanish accent.
"Yep," Justine replied coolly as she began rummaging through her locker for another costume. She decided on a sheer pastel pink baby doll over a matching thong.
Justine was attempting to discourage further conversation but Rosa either didn't notice or care. Rosa continued her drunken rant, gossiping about everyone in the club, trying to stir Justine into reacting.
Justine nodded noncommittally at Rosa as she donned her lingerie. She completed the ensemble with a white satin garter, slipping it over her stiletto heel and relishing the sensation of the fabric as it slid smoothly over her thigh.
Rosa's speech was becoming increasingly incoherent. Justine focused on pushing her voice into the background as she fetched a cosmetic case from inside her cluttered locker. She carried the case toward the long mirror, setting it down on the graffiti covered counter. She looked at her reflection. The mirror was covered with a haze from too much smoke and infrequent cleaning. She had to lean in to see clearly.
Justine sighed heavily and began to powder her face and reapply her lipstick. She sprayed herself with her favorite scent and gazed upon herself in the mirror. She knew she wasn't the most attractive girl in the club but she rather liked the fact that she was not a "perfect ten". It had forced her to never rely solely on her appearance in the club or in life. She'd worked hard to develop talent and class. She knew that eventually beauty fades but she would retain her poise forever. She gave herself a flirtatious smile and wink, a habit she'd come to rely on like a talisman before securing her belongings in her locker.
Justine left Rosa in the dressing room with only a wave and made her way back into the club. She could see that it hadn't picked up any. In fact, it seemed as if several customers had left. She resigned herself to breaking even.
She passed a large group of college age boys gathered around two tables. They were laughing boisterously and downing shots of Jagermeister. As she strolled by, they hooted and hollered at her, throwing in a few obscenities for good measure.
Justine stopped and gave them that same flirty smile but continued. Experience had taught her that the youngest customers were the least profitable and the most unruly. She wanted to explore other options.
She snaked her way through the small crowd. Most of the customers were already being hustled by another dancer. She was about to make her way back to the college crowd when she noticed a handsome man sitting alone at a table near the back of the club. She began to scurry in his direction, eager to get to him before another dancer could. As she closed in on him, she slowed her pace so she could glide seductively toward him.
She gasped slightly when she got a clear view of his face. He wasn't merely handsome, he was exquisite. His lustrous dark hair dazzled beneath the lights and his strong masculine jaw was shaded with dark stubble. He wore a simple t-shirt that hugged his tightly muscled shoulders and chest as if it had been tailored just for him.
Justine felt a flutter of anxiety. She always felt intimidated approaching extremely attractive men.
"Hello." Justine's voice sounded too high in her own ears. She took a calming breath and continued. "Are you having a good time?"
He turned his head and he scrutinized her from head to toe, making Justine squirm with discomfort. She was accustomed to being looked over by men but his pitch eyes felt intrusive.
He ignored her question and instead replied, "Justine, right?"
She flashed a genuine smile, her dimples making a rare appearance. Most customers don't bother to remember names. "Yes, I am. So are you having fun?" she repeated.
He again answered with his own question. "Would you like to sit?" He gestured toward the empty chair across from him.
"I'd love to." Justine was sensing a bit of shyness in his demeanor and decided on a soft sale approach.
He stood up to pull out her seat. Justine was flattered by his manners but even more amazed by his incredible body when he stood. Even in her 6" heels he was much taller than her, forcing her to look up in order to make eye contact. His solid upper body that she had previously admired gave way to a trim waist and narrow hips. Her mind wandered as she imagined how delightful it would be to give this dark stranger a lap dance.
"Justine?" His deep voice interrupted her thoughts. She knew she looked foolish standing there gawking. She began to blush so furiously that even her neck and chest reddened, contrasting loudly against the pale pink of her attire. "Are you ok?" he asked, his concern sincere.
Justine nodded. "Yes. I'm fine...I....I...just remembered something...it's nothing." Justine was a terrible liar. She took her seat, crossing her legs. As he returned to his own seat she tried to calm herself once again.
"So, may I ask your name?" Her head tilted slightly as she inspected him from beneath her long lashes.
"Theron," he replied, his voice thick and soothing.
Justine held out her dainty hand and said, "It is a pleasure meeting you, Theron."
