Chapter 1
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This book contains sexually explicit scenes including groping, harassment, forceful sex and more. This is written for 18+
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This is also a very rough draft that I've been playing around with. It will be a shorter story and not as long as the Socium Princess, but still full of a lot of spice.
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I picked my head up from my hands and mentally gave myself the usual pep talk for the evening. Eyeing the smoky outline of my dark, green eyes, I took a deep breath and prayed that tonight would be the last night that I had to do this.
“You can do this,” I quietly breathed in. “You’re going to go out there and rock it.”
Standing up from my dressing mirror I looked myself over.
Dark hair done in big, come-hither waves. Check.
Deep red lips on. Check.
Barely there thong in place. Check.
Pasties secured over my nipples. Check.
Everything was in place as I slipped into my remaining clothes - if you could call them that. The two-piece, rhinestone studded, see through hot pants and matching crop top were not really clothes per say, but they did bring in the tips.
They were perfect for dancing. They allowed me to move, give the men a taste of everything that was underneath and still allowed me to have something more to take off. When I was done these little bits of clothing would be discarded anyways. With the way the men like to touch us, there was really no chance this outfit would last another night. Most clubs don’t allow touching, but here at Dice it was all part of the package – within reason anyways. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need this one again anyways.
Tomorrow I finally had an interview for a job at Daley & Co. Financial. Was it a dream job? No, absolutely not. I wanted to be an event planner throwing elaborate parties and making all the details perfect. But now with dad gone, I had to take what I could get, and I needed to make money during the day properly if I ever hoped to plan events for the Boston elite.
Not that there was anything wrong with dancing. It paid the bills, and it was good money. It just wasn’t for me. I have never loved having a bunch of men leer at me and grope within reason. Some girls loved it here. Dice is one of the most premier strip clubs in Boston – exclusive and discreet with wealthy clientele who generally needed to remain inconspicuous.
Most of the girls loved the attention and the prestige that came from dancing here – not to mention the massive amounts of money they could bring in doing extra favors. Not me though. I came to dance and that was it. I didn’t need the attention and certainly wasn’t going to be doing any extras. I wasn’t that desperate…yet. However, if I went a few more weeks without finding a good paying day job, I knew “yet” might be operative.
I took another deep breath. I’m hoping if I can get my foot in the door at Daley, I will be able to say goodbye to Dice and eventually work my way to the event planning department. I have a degree in Communications from Emerson College, but once dad was gone, I had to take what I could get to pay our rent.
He left us with almost nothing, which is my fault really. Despite my scholarships and grants, he has spent almost all of his savings on my education. He was hoping we would do better with a college graduate in the family. I had hoped so too.
But, here I was, shaking my ass for money in almost no clothing. I knew he would roll over in his grave if he could see me now. Sometimes you do what you have to do though. And I had to do this so we could get by.
“Addie, you’re on in five,” Hank bellowed from the other side of the doorway in the hallway.
“On my way!” I called over my shoulder as I gave myself one final glance and stepped into my 5-inch-high rhinestone heels. I’m not sure how I haven’t broken my ankle in these things yet. Hopefully, I could pitch them in the trash tomorrow too.
“Addie! Get backstage!”
“Coming, Hank!”
Deep breath. Deep breath. I shrugged on my black, short trench coat that would be coming off in the first 30 seconds. It might be the only piece of clothing to ever survive an evening of dancing. I tied it around my waist as I reached the door and Sorrel burst through.
“Girl, you better get out there,” she said catching her breath. “The crowd is on fire tonight and I know you need that money. Make sure to check out the high rollers in the corner booth. I am going to be all over them later.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” I said as I walked past her into the dim corridor.
Sorrel was the closest thing I had to a friend here. She loved this place and clued me in on all the tricks, like how if you touch a client’s arm and flirt with them a little while pushing drinks you would get a bigger tip from them during social hour. And she held my hair back after my first night as I threw up from the nerves running through me. Then she gave me some mouthwash and slapped my ass before pushing me out on stage. She would also always give me tips – like tonight – on who to make eye contact with.
High rollers are what we called the exceptionally wealthy clients. Even though there was no gambling taking place here, ending up with one of them after your dance could be like a roll of the Dice.
Customers could request us during social hour, a time where we would chat with them privately and essentially have up close and personal time. A lot of them just wanted to talk. It was amazing how many of them felt ignored by their wives. But they could also hold us, caress us and fondle different parts - everything but the side of your breast, nipple area and the vagina were pretty much within the limit of what Dice allowed. Sometimes there was heavy kissing here and there and each girl was given a bodyguard for this time just to make sure nothing went further than she wanted it too.
Depending on if you were open to extras, the client could take you to one of the private rooms during this time too, but only if the girls were on the extras list. The more prestigious clients were able to pick first for social hour and appealing to them guaranteed you would walk home with about $500 that night, even without extras. Some of the women could make $1500 a night if they were paired up with one of the high rollers and were willing to offer a blow job or more.
“Let’s go Addie,” Hank said breaking me from my train of thought.
“I’m ready,” I said as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and held my head high as I felt the music begin to move through me.
Just because I didn’t like dancing as a job, didn’t mean I was going to look down on this job or not appreciate the opportunity either. I love moving to music and had been classically trained when I was younger up through high school at my mother's instance. I doubt my dance teach ever thought I would use my thigh muscles to wrap around a pole. However, I do love that I don't need a gym membership to stay in shape. God knows I don't have time for that.
"That's it, girl," I heard Sorrel whisper yell to me as I secured my mask in place around my lined, dark green eyes. "Keep that head up or the crown falls."
I winked back towards the dressing room door, knowing she was there in the shadows somewhere even though I couldn't see her.
Having the mask on always gave me more courage. It was almost like I could disappear behind it. I could put the real Addison Casey aside for the evening and become the mysterious woman at the club for all these men. The confidence I gained made me a better dancer. Stripping clothes away from my body didn't seem as hard as long as I could hide myself and soul behind the black, glittery mask.
Plus, with the mask, the darkness and the massive amounts of alcohol these men were consuming, I doubt they could pick me out of a crowd in board daylight.
The only thing separating me and the crowd at this point was a thin, black curtain around the back of the stage. I could hear the men in the audience jeering and shouting for me as I waited for Hank to introduce me.
“And now it’s time for the one, the only SCARLET DARK!” Hank bellowed my stage name loudly into the microphone and I stepped through the curtain into the bright lights.
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Addison is about to get her groove on...in more ways than one.
