Mafia's Love

It’s happening again. That prickle in the back of my neck that I just can’t seem to shake. No matter how many corners I turn or how many crowds I put myself in, that feeling is still there. The feeling of someone watching and monitoring. It’s nerve wracking, but I guess it just comes with the job. I’m a well known stripper in Las Vegas. I’m the stripper you accuse of sleeping with your husband. I’m the stripper that dances at your fiance’s bachelor parties and the reason why there won’t be a wedding the next day. Side note - it’s not my fault you planned to marry a sniveling idiot who thinks it’s not a bachelor party without strippers. Anyways, I’m pretty good at what I do and with that comes the occasional stalkers, death threats and angry wives.

I sighed as I finally reached The Liquid Dancer, the most famous club in Las Vegas. I nodded to the bouncer as I made my way inside.

“Mara dearest is that you?” A voice that sounded behind me made my skin crawl. This sleazy bastard again?

“The one and only boss. Is there something wrong?” I answered through a gritted teeth smile. This is one of the many assholes that I can’t avoid. He hits on anything with tits and would never take ’no’ as an answer.

“I was thinking after your shift, why don’t you come to my office so that we can have a chat, maybe talk about a raise or a promotion?” His hand found the small of my back and began rubbing small circles. “Of course, you’re going to need to prove your competence for such rewards. Seeing as I’m the general manager of this club, I’m sure we could work something out.”

“No thank you.” I quickly pulled away from him and started to walk towards the dressing rooms. “I’m more than satisfied with my position. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go.” I saw him roll his eyes and grumble as he walked away to set his eyes on his next victim. Great, now I need to scrub the small of my back for herpes. I entered the dressing room and was immediately met with chaos.

Two girls bickering over whose lipstick was whose. Someone burning themselves with a curling iron. Another girl was getting help to lace up her costume. The stage manager shouting out times everyone has until their set. I have thirty minutes until I’m on the main stage. Great, thanks to that handsy prick I’ll have to rush. I quickly threw on my outfit and started styling my hair and make-up.

“Mara you’re on in ten speed this up.” Yelled the stage manager.

“Screw it. I’m heading to the stage.”

“Your funeral.”

I strapped on my heels and made my way over, mentally preparing myself. My make-up wasn’t fully done and my outfit wasn’t completed either. No matter, it doesn’t mean I won’t milk the crowd for what they’re worth. Men will fuck anything. Then will turn around and shame women for allowing them to fuck.

“Now welcoming a fine little number. Here we call her our own little diamond in the rough but, you pay her the right amount you can call her anything you want. Give a virtuous welcome to our best apple of the bunch; Emerald!”

Before I walked out onto stage I leaned in to the stage manager “You should fire him. His announcing skills sucks.” He nodded and sighed as he took note of my complaint. The lights dimmed as I made my way towards the pole in the center of the stage. The music began and it thrummed through my body like a drug. My body moved along with the base of it, naturally enticing the crowd before me. I always loved dancing. I love the way my body can capture even the most uptight of men’s eyes. The way it seemed that the moment they laid their gaze on me an obsession began. It was thrilling and a little scary the way men simply glimpsing at someone can make them want more of me.

I walked down the length of the stage ready to interact with the crowd. Then I felt it. That same prickle at the base of my neck. I search the crowd of people but no one sticks out. I shake it off and go over to a guy wearing a sash that says birthday boy. He looks as if he just turned twenty one to enter the club. Our gazes met and he swallowed thickly

I smile and make myself comfortable in his lap. I leaned forward and basically had to shout in his ear over the crowd and music. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty two.”

I nodded and pulled his hands up to grab onto my breasts. “Happy birthday sweetheart.” His, what I assume are his friends started slapping him on his back causing him to jostle and land face first into my cleavage. He quickly pulled back flushed and red in the face apologizing profusely. I laughed, gave him a peck on the cheek. A friend of his slipped a wad of a hundred bills into my bra strap and winked. I blew a kiss and walked to my next patron. A man dressed in business attire nursing a whiskey on the rocks. His button down shirt was opened at the top displaying his chest and a peak of a tattoo. He caught sight of me and his legs spread wider to accompany me. I gladly accepted.

He grunted as my behind met with his groin. “I’m surprised that you’re able to get it up. You look exhausted.” I said as I caressed his chest that was bare to me. He let out a noncommittal hum and placed his hands around my waist. I laughed a little as I slowly began to grind against him to the beat of the music. He hissed and his grip grew tighter. To either stop me or slow down. Who knows? Who cares? I just want him to ruin his slacks by the time I’m done.

His breathing grew ragged. His jaw clenched and he groaned as he quickly stopped the slow moving of my hips. He threw back his drink, pulled out his wallet, stuffed another wad of a hundred bills into my hands, got up and walked straight out of the club. I was still laughing a little as I finally made my way back to the stage and finished my set.

Even after all of that the prickle still hasn’t left my neck. If anything it increased to burning all over my body. Whoever is staring is stripping me bare with their gaze and I can’t decide if I love the way it’s so thrilling or despise the absolute absurdity of it all. I finally finish my set on stage and make my way to the dressing rooms. My skin feels heated and it’s not from dancing for three hours. I began to wipe away my make-up and sift through my memory of seeing any faces that I may have seen while outside of work.

“You would think that someone who had the crowd going crazy they’d look more upbeat.” A voice that grated on my nerves every time I’d hear it made my eyes roll so hard I could see my brain.

“What do you want Candy? I’m busy. Not all of us have time to go and suck the boss’s little prick. Some of us actually work.”

“You know that’s not what happened!” Her face formed into one of outrage as she looked around to see everyone staring.

“I don’t know. From where I was standing you sure as hell wasn’t. That’s also being generous, seeing as how you’re taller than the little garden gnome.”

She said nothing else and stormed away. Meet Candy everyone, the girl who peaked in highschool and makes it everyone else’s problem. I continue taking off my make-up until a waitress interrupts me.

“Mara, someone requested a dance with you.” she said as she typed away on her work tablet.

“No. I’m calling an early night and going home.”

“He said he’d pay quadruple the original price.”

“Oh.”

“Yup. That’s why I actually bothered you. Yes or no.”

“Fine”

“Room 3. Knock ’em dead tiger.”

She left and I reapplied the make-up and outfit. God I’m tired.

I basically took my time with everything. If this guy wants me he’ll wait politely. I finally finished and began making my way to the private rooms. I entered to see a man spread over the couch smoking a cigarette. Our gazes met and immediately my body grew hot. It’s him. My breathing sped up as I slowly walked into the room and closed the door. I leaned against the door, my chest rose and fell noticeably as our staring competition persisted, not wanting to be the first to break it. He smiled and beckoned me over with a crook of his finger. Slowly, my feet sprang to move one after the other. Finally, I was in front of him. The closer I got the wetter between my thighs I felt. My heart thundered in my chest so loud I wondered if he could hear it. He said nothing as if he knew the effect he had on me. I swallowed roughly and began to shift from foot to foot in the uncomfortable silence.

“Are you Mara, love?” he asked with an accent thick on his tongue. Is that a Boston accent? Italian maybe? I didn’t answer so he pressed again a little firmer this time. “Are you Mara, love?”

“Yes, that’s me.” I finally answered.

“Your manager tells me you’re the best dancer here. Is that true?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not the one that’s paying four times the original price to have a stripper dance for them.”

He laughed and stubbed his cigarette out on the ashtray. “I guess you’re right about that love.”

“I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup. “

“Like what?”

“I know that you’re the one that’s been stalking me these past few weeks.” He smirked and shrugged. “You don’t feel any remorse or shame for that, do you.”

“Nope. Why will I be ashamed of something I like doing?”