\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1034183-Wasted-Time
Image Protector
by Leger~ Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Contest Entry · #2275375
Where music moves me. Here are my stories. Album #3
#1034183 added June 24, 2022 at 11:45am
Restrictions: None
Wasted Time

Wasted Time

They warned her.

Once you're on the pole, the guys want to save you. They don't get it. They don't understand that you like it there. The thrill of dance, the game, the lust is like a drug. And the money is phenomenal. Yeah, you gotta pay taxes blah, blah, but it's a cash business. Enough said.

Then he came into the club. So cool, so quiet, all he had to do was crook his finger at me and I was his.

It was impossible for me to ignore him. Other girls would dance for him, talk to him... but I could FEEL him.

By the third weekend, he sat front and center at my stage and didn't wear his shades. He sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair, watching me gyrate. I worked that pole hard, I showed him how limber I am. When the final songs were played, I crawled...literally crawled across the stage to him. He leaned forward and tucked a bill in my cleavage.

"Thank you so much." I was blushing like a schoolgirl.

"When you're done with your set, come see me." His deep voice thrummed something inside me.

Oh shit. This usually means one of two things, they want to hire you for sex, or they want your number to date you. They don't understand that this stops at the door. I'm a performer here, and only here.

After my set, I ducked into the dressing room to towel off. I tossed my clothes to the side, wiped down and put on a soft robe. Wandering back into the main club, I smiled at all the compliments and slid past all the groping hands. I approached the gentleman and sat on the armrest of his chair.

"You wanted to see me?" I smiled while my head spun with the scent of him.

His gaze moved over my body. I could physically feel it and it caught my breath. My skin felt on fire.

"I know you're single and don't have a boyfriend." He was watching her carefully, she could feel it.

"Yes, that's true. And you've made it your business to know? The staff here doesn't give out information on the dancers." Her brows knit together, thinking someone broke the rules.

"No, I had you investigated." He nonchalantly sipped his beer.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" She moved to stand and his hand on her arm stopped her.

"Give me a moment to explain." He looked calmly into her eyes. "I've been coming here a long time. Mostly to get myself out of the house. I know that sounds lame, but there's a certain anonymity a strip club gives you."

"That's part of it, part of what attracts men to a place like this."

"What brought you here in the first place?" His hand stroked her arm.

"I lost my job and couldn't make rent. I found out I liked to use my dancing skills and the attention and tips weren't bad."

His hand moved to caress the side of my breast through the robe. "You are exquisite, you know."

"I know."

"I would like to hire you."

"For what?"

"To be mine." His eyes gleamed as he said it.

"What...like some Pretty Woman scenario?" She laughed at the thought.

"Something like that." He took another sip.

"Okay."

His hand stopped, the glass halfway to his lips. "Yes?"

"Why not? I have nothing to lose. You know that."

"This isn't a game. Not some weekend vacation. This is a binding contract." His fingers tightened on her tit.

She gasped as a thrill went through her. "I get it."

"Get dressed. It starts now." I'll be waiting in the car.

"I don't need anything here." She stood to walk out with him. "This is my chance to start over. I'm leaving all this behind."

He was smiling as they walked out of the club.



Word count 653






Lyrics

© Copyright 2022 Leger~ (UN: legerdemain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Leger~ has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1034183-Wasted-Time