Forbidden Love: My Daddy's Best Friend

Dancing

Taking in a deep breath I walk in, and a woman looks at me. “Harley?” I nod, smiling at her, walking over I take a seat with her. The club is run down, far from luxury.

“Okay, so I will start with the rules. As the ad said, this isn’t a place to sell yourself for s*x, anyone found doing anything like that will be gone without getting paid.”

Wow, she’s blunt. “I don’t plan to.”

“Sorry, some women think this is a job to get quick cash from guys. Most dances are done out here, however, we do have private booths around the back. These booths have cameras, more so if any guy tries anything we have proof.”

“Do you have to dance in the booths?” I can’t do that.

“No, whatever you’re comfortable with. We have eight dancers. Four will be dancing each night. Some nights it depends on the crowd. We have poles for those women who are trained and able to dance on poles, the others are just erotic dancing. Do you have any questions?”

She looks at me waiting and I nod.

“Dancing out here, is it on stage or off stage?”

“Out here, you dance on stage and between tables.”

I nod thinking of the next question. “Dancing with customers, it didn’t state about lap dances and such?”

“That is your choice, each girl can do whichever dance she wants, if you’re comfortable dancing and doing some on a guy's lap, fine, if not, that is fine.”

“Okay, that’s great, and how is identity hidden?” That I need to know.

“If you get the job, there is a back entrance, it isn’t connected to this building. Our dancers come through it from next door. All dancers and customers wear masks that cover their entire faces. If you’re comfortable with it, you can wear a wig and such. Masks are mandatory, all dancers must use that entrance, never this one.”

Well, that makes me feel better. Sitting we discuss it some more, and I find myself loving the place.

After the initial interview, Belinda had me dance, and at first, I was sure I would throw up, but I didn’t, and by the end, she was smiling and nodding. She offered me the job and gave me my own code for getting through the dancer's entrance.

After I decided to go shopping, realising I no longer had anything suitable to wear for dancing. The next twenty-four hours are spent practising, routines are not planned, which helps. It means I don’t have to stress or worry about remembering the moves.

Freedom to dance in any way I want is what I need. Unrestricted, it’s when I dance the best. By eight pm I am in bed and tired, knowing that tomorrow is my first day.

The next day, I messaged my dad again, and he updated me on the clubs, my mum and my sister, he didn’t mention Joel which means he never showed up. I can tell he is anxious that I’m so quiet, so I assure him I am drowning in university work but will go home in a few weeks to visit.

I say weeks know it will be months more than likely, but saying weeks will make him relax and be happy. I don’t wait for his reply before taking out the SIM card and putting in the new one that I use for work and such.

I spend the day trying to relax, ready for tonight. Before I know it, it’s time to leave. Grabbing my things I leave, driving to the club I go the way that Belinda said. Walking through I stop seeing a man.

“Harley?”

I nod to him.

“I’m Rob, I own the place. Belinda is better at finding women suitable than I am. She can also spot the ones who well, won’t follow rules. I will show you where the other girls get changed, sometimes they get changed halfway through the night, it also has a small kitchen so on your break you can sit in there.”

I nod and follow him around, he stops next to a door.

“Toilets, these are for the dancers only! The door opposite is the room where dancers get changed, sit and relax on break. Again, purely for dancers. Security toilet, their break room.” He points to the next two doors.

“Thank you.” I am glad things are split, it will make me feel better.

“Okay, you have fifteen minutes then come out, you can stay on stage, move, it’s your choice as Belinda said. Here’s your mask, it has your name inside, your stage name that is. Never use your real name, Harley.”

“That’s great thank you.” He nods and walks off, walking through to the room I sit down, my head falling back. I’m glad none of the women are in here. I need five minutes to compose myself. An hour later I feel relaxed, dancing through the tables. I ensure I stay on the opposite side of the men, ensuring the table was between us.

All the men are wearing masks, which I like, it means I have no idea if the guy I served coffee just a week ago with his wife is currently watching my ass shake. I smile to myself at that, I like this place, it’s better than the place I danced at before.

My first few weeks at the club went great, by the time three months had passed, I was comfortable dancing closer to the guys.

And now, six months later, I’m comfortable dancing on their laps. Which I am, I smile and move against him, and he keeps his hands off my body, other than a few times to slip money into the waistband of my skirt.

I move dancing between the tables, stopping at the next. I roll my eyes seeing the other dancers. They are here for money, I mean I am but not like them. I dance through the tables, linger for a couple of minutes and move on.

The girls here are leeches, they dance through the tables, but all their attention and energy stick to the rich guys. It might mean they get a lot more cash tonight, but then the guys never come back once they realise how much they went through.

I also hate the rich ones, they are usually old, fat and don’t even try to hide their wedding rings. They often try to feel you up as well. So while I dance with them, I barely do lap dances for them, and I certainly don’t dangle on them.

As I dance I see Rob waving me over. I move, dancing through the tables, before stopping at him. He is standing by a pole, so I dance as I wait for him to talk.

“How much would you object to extra cash?” I stop mid-spin at his words. “I know you say no and refuse but please? I wouldn’t ask you Harley if it wasn’t important.”

“Why not just get one of the others to dance for them?” I don’t do private booths. I continue to dance around the pole feeling the men’s eyes on me watching.

“Because the men can see the difference. They can see the difference between someone who dances because they love to dance and those who are doing it to try milk cash.” I keep dancing on the pole.

“Rob, I don’t do private dances.”

“What if I give you double, for the whole night? Including double the tips men give you.”

I laugh at his words. “Are you crazy?” He must be to offer me that.

“No, I just know this man is a client we want and need. You know the booths ask for a reasonable donation, he paid five k, for an hour. Ordered the best whiskey we have, then complained we could do better.” I stop mid-swing. That’s a lot, most pay one to three hundred, and he paid five thousand? Then complains about the whiskey not being expensive enough?

“Look, all I am thinking is if we impress him, he may speak to more of his friends, and bring them here.” He hopes, but it’s unlikely. Most don’t return.

“Okay, but then I want all my holidays. All at once, I will leave Monday to see family, I have a month off.” I should go home and see my dad.

“Fine. You get the five k he paid for the room, double our usual pay as well. And you can take your time off after this weekend. He’s in the blue room.” He smiles and walks off. Getting down from the pole I dance towards the hall with the rooms, I hear the low moans of men complaining that I’m leaving and smile. I stop at the booths.

Am I really doing this? I have been in the booths before when dancers took too long and I had to go in and remind them time was up. Often the men were old, heavily overweight, and grubby. They had secrets to keep hidden and use the room to hide them.