Indecent Proposal

Becoming a dancer was never in my life plan. But if I’m being honest, getting pregnant at eighteen wasn’t in my life plan either. Don’t get me wrong, I love my son but with him come ties to my ex. An abusive bastard who I’ve been stuck with for the last six years. Well, up until almost eight months ago when I kicked his arse to the curb.

Fine, I didn’t kick his arse to the curb. While he was out on one of his many benders, I pack my bags, along with Ollie’s and high tailed out of there, not looking back.

It was the best decision I could have made for me and my son. My only regret was not saving more money before I left, forced to take the first job I could get my hands on at the local gentleman’s club, Fantasy.

I suppose it was a good a place as any to get a job. At least I felt safer here, knowing my ex would never find me. The first few months, I lived in fear that he would come barging through those doors, but after eight months of nothing, the anxiety started to melt away. There was always a tiny voice in the back of my head telling me he could still find me, but I did my best to ignore it.

Now, plastering a smile on my face while I slip on the skimpiest lingerie set, I take to the stage, dancing for a sea of strangers, all who’s eyes are fixed solely on me. Of course, I would rather have a job that requires more clothing, but I can’t deny the feeling I get when I’m up on that stage, the lights burning down on me. It’s almost euphoric, in a way. My skin tingles, my mind free of all my stress as men throw their hard earned money at me, pushing it in the waistband of my panties, just to steal a touch where they can get it.

To begin with, I made decent money. All the sweaty men staring, ogling, trying to touch me was worth being able to pay my rent. But with the closure of one of the biggest steelworks plants in the town, business died off. In the click of your fingers, people stopped coming, my worry of being able to fed my child or put a roof over his head constantly at the forefront of my mind.

Every night, I would work myself to exhaustion. Every night I would barely scrap together the money I needed, sometimes going hungry myself, just so Ollie didn’t have too. Even shopping exclusively in the clearance section at the local grocery store did little to help.

I was so worried about what I’d do if I couldn’t afford my rent, until one night when I was approached by a balding, muscular man.

I’d just come off the stage, sweat rolling down neck, a couple of singles in my thong.

"You did great tonight, sugar. Just like always.” One of the other dancers compliments me.

"Thanks, Giselle.” I smile, watching her take the stage next.

Grabbing a towel from my table in the corner of the room, I pat myself down, wiping the sweat from my neck and chest.

The room is filled with the sound of Closer by nine inch nails as Giselle takes to the pole, the room getting even louder with cheers and hollers. For a second, I’m distracted, watching her dance, grinding against the pole. Too distracted that I don’t hear the footsteps of a man approaching me from behind, almost making my jump when he coughs, trying to get my attention.

When I turn, I’m almost blinded by the stage lights that reflect off his sweaty, bald scalp. When my eye adjust, I see that he’s wearing a suit, something not too common when most of our clients used to be steelworkers. A stream of sweat drips down the side of his face that he ignores, letting it drip down onto his otherwise unblemished jacket. He looks the sort that would want a dance and then try to take things further. Not that I had ever entertained that before, but with my money worries I didn’t know if I could afford to stop him if he asked for more.

"Hey there, darling.” He says, his eyes flicking up and down my body, eye fucking me like it was his god given right.

"Hey yourself.” I reply, towelling myself down, slowly, deliberately, hoping he’ll ask for an over priced, private dance just so I could pay my water bill.

Biting my bottom lip, I let my eyes move down his body, pretending I liked what I saw, when in reality he was just the same as all the other men in here.

For a second, he just watches my teeth biting into my plump lower lip, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to lick his own dry lips. When I release my lip, his eyes return to mine, like he’s just remembering the whole reason why he’s here.

“Erm... My boss saw you dancing, just now.” Is all he says.

“Your boss or you?” I bat my eyelashes, a coy smile playing on my lips.

He cracks a smile before looking away, like he wants to say something, but then thinks against it.

“My boss...” He starts, looking over his shoulder to a group of men. “Would like the pleasure of your company.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” I tell him, trying not to sound as desperate for the money as I am. “If you speak to my boss and give him the money, he’ll show you to one of the private rooms.”

“No. You misunderstand. He would like to spend the night with you.”

I stop smiling as I look over his shoulder to the group of men. I couldn’t tell which one was supposed to be his boss. Some of them even had their backs to me, making it hard to work out which one thought he had the right to buy me like a piece of cattle at market.

“I don’t think so.” I tell him, returning my attention to him.

I make to move away from him, done with the conversation but clearly Fester doesn’t like taking no for an answer.

“He’ll pay you a lot of money...”

I pause for a second as I look back to the man standing in front of me.

“What’s your name?” He asks

“Cherry.” I reply, giving him my stage name.

“Well, Cherry. I’m sure you could use the money. The amount my boss is willing to pay can do a lot for a girl like you.”

“Like me?” I ask offended, annoyed that he wasn’t wrong.

“Fifty thousand.” He tells me, ignoring my question.

I furrow my brow, sure that I misheard him.

“Your boss wants to pay me fifty thousand to spend the night with him?”

“He knows what he likes and tonight that’s you.”

I look between him and the group of men. Not one of them was looking over here to give me an idea of which one it was.

“Who...” I start to say.

“There are two rules.” He cuts me off.

“Right...”

“One, you’ll have to wear a blindfold. You can’t know who he is, ever. And two, you’ll be expected to participate in certain activities.”

I scoff.

“Well, I didn’t think he was offering me all that money just to sit in the same room as him. Why can’t I know who he is? Is he married or something?”

“Or something. The less you know the better.”

“Is he dangerous?” I ask, thinking about my son.

“Not to you.”

“I don’t know.” I tell him. “This all just seems a bit too weird.”

“Well, I offered...” He says as he turns and walks away.

I watch his back as he moves away from me, a thousand thoughts running though my head. Most of them thinking about what I could do with fifty thousand pounds. That could solve a lot of my problems. Set me and my son up in a nice place, put food on the table, stop me from worrying about money.

“Wait.” I call to the lacky.

He turns to face me, but doesn’t come any closer.

“I’ll do it.”