Kayla

Brandon lives in Summerlin North, which is a good thirty minutes from our apartment, in a gated community with a security guard who only slightly hassles me before finally discovering my name on the list.

Scarlet owes me big for this one. I should have had her call a ride service at the very least.

I pull up in front of the giant house and send Scar a quick text to let her know I’m here. My phone dings with her response just as I see her slipping outside and closing the door behind her.

This is the first I’ve seen Scar since I left her with Brandon and Chad on Wednesday night. She’s wearing one of Brandon’s dress shirts and carrying her heels in her hand as she makes her way down the long driveway from his house. He may break her heart, but if that grin on her face is any indication, the pain will be quite worth it.

She climbs in and buckles up, swiveling in the seat to face me.

As I resume driving, she sighs loudly.

“Well?” I prompt.

“I’ve just been very properly fucked.”

I nearly choke. “Jesus, Scarlet. Congratulations?”

“They’re definitely in order.”

From my peripherals, I can see her open up the button-down shirt. “Look.”

We come to a stop sign and I glance at her chest, then quickly take a longer look. There are hickeys on both breasts. “Scar, you can’t go to work like that. What were you thinking?”

She giggles. “I wasn’t.” As she buttons up the shirt again, she leans her head back and sighs happily. “I haven’t had a coherent thought for two whole days.”

“That good, huh?”

She doesn’t answer right away, so I glance to my right and meet her leveled gaze. “Better.”

“Still.” I shake my head. “You can’t go to work like that.”

She dismisses my words with a flick of her wrist. “I’ll use someone’s tattoo makeup. It will be fine.”

“Scarlet.”

She groans; she knows I’m right. “Okay, it’s fine. I don’t even need to work. It’s your night anyway. I wouldn’t want to take away any of the spotlight.” I look at her and she winks. “Plus, Brandon is coming in, so I’d rather just chill with him, you know?”

Frowning, I pull onto the highway. “And the Shakespears Sister routine? You’re going to, what, let me do it alone?”

Scar shakes her head. “You know me better than that, babe. I would never leave you hanging.” She looks out the window, one hand on her breast like she’s reliving how those hickeys got there in the first place. “I’ll just keep the corset on.”

We ride in silence the rest of the way. This is one of those times I keep my mouth shut for fear of saying something I’ll regret. And she seems content enough in her memories of the last few days, so I’ll let her have them. He hasn’t broken her heart yet, so I’ll keep my nose out of it.

I pull into our complex and park in my designated spot, then look at her as I turn off the car. “You have an hour to wash the last forty-eight hours off your body and get ready for tonight. Think you can do it?”

She laughs as she climbs out of the car, giving me an uninhibited view of her thighs. “Can I?” she asks, still laughing. “Yes. Do I want to?” She pulls Brandon’s shirt up to her nose to smell what’s left of his cologne on the fabric, and I gasp. I’m eye level with my best friend’s vagina.

She’s full commando beneath that dress shirt.

“Scarlet!” I shriek. “Kids live in this complex!” I get out of the car and look around for any onlookers.

“Relax, Kayla, it’s just a vagina.”

###

WE’VE BEEN AT THE CLUB for a few hours now, and I’m making bank. Every time the DJ announces that it’s my last night here, or anywhere for that matter, I swear my tips multiply like little green bunnies. I’m even doing the lap dance rounds tonight, giving the customers one last hurrah before I go. So many familiar faces have stopped by tonight, and as the clock creeps closer to midnight, my career winds to an end.

It feels... odd.

I’m not sad as much as I feel almost... nothing. Apathy?

It’s just kind of meh.

I don’t know what I expected, but I was hoping for some epic emotion tonight, some irreplaceable, can’t ever feel it again feeling. Something to really carry with me as I move back home and start my new life.

It’s time for my last routine, and I picked my favorite one for the final show. But as I go through the motions, getting into my Victorian era character, I can’t ignore the ache of disappointment. This should feel different, right?

“Oh no. I know that look.” Scar walks into the dressing room and sits beside me at the long vanity. “What’s wrong? You’re overthinking something.” She narrows her eyes and searches my gaze in the reflection in the mirror.

I laugh and cake more white makeup onto my face. “Usually.”

“Well, spill. We have a few minutes before we go out there.”

I glance at the clock on the wall behind me, then turn on my stool to look at her. “Um, we have exactly fifteen minutes, at most, and you’re nowhere near looking like the dark haired seductress I need for this song.”

She winks. “Watch this.” She stands quickly and strips out of her tiny black dress, standing naked before me, giving me Spirit Fingers. “There. Seductive enough for you?”

Shaking my head, I focus my attention on my reflection. “Yes, save for those hickies all over your tits.”

Scarlet giggles, then strolls to her locker and starts getting into her black corset and thong. 

I’ve caked on plenty of white face makeup, so eyelashes as black as the night and twice as long are the final touch. While I secure them in place, Scar walks up behind me, holding her arms out to her sides. “Better?”

I smile. “Yes.”

She sits back down and darkens her eye makeup, adding extra black shadow and liquid liner, then finishing up with her own false lashes. “So, what’s going on in that overthinking brain?”

I sigh, then swivel my seat so I can face her.

She stops what she’s doing when I don’t say anything, then turns to me with one eyelash strip hanging from her right eye. She blinks repeatedly so it bounces up and down.

I laugh, then shake my head. “I thought I’d feel different tonight.”

She purses her lips. “How so?”

Shrugging, I reach for her eyelash and secure it in place. “I don’t know, like, I guess I was expecting some crazy explosion of emotions, you know?” I finish and she blinks a few times, then smiles.

“Kayla, you’ve always kept your feelings close to the chest.” She shrugs. “It’s just what works for you.” She licks her lips and shakes her head. “And maybe it’s that it’s time to move on and you’re less conflicted because you know that on some level. You feel this. Or, you will, when you’re ready. Especially the part where you’re moving away from me. That shit’s going to hurt like hell.”

I laugh and place my hands on her shoulders. “I’m definitely going to miss you.”

She leans forward and kisses me, then pulls back. “Don’t make me cry, babe.”

Scarlet stands and I follow, then we both pull our wigs on. Mine is tall and impossibly white like chalk, and hers is long and straight and black as night. We’re complete opposites right now, in contrasting colors; devil and angel.

We step up the stairs and stand behind the black curtain. As the speakers start spilling the opening bars of an amazing old nineties song by a band no one but me and like, five other people have heard of, I lift up my colossal hoop skirt and Scar wiggles between my legs. She play-bites my inner thigh and almost gets a stiletto to the face.

I let the skirt fall back down and settle around my feet, swishing it back and forth as we get ready to walk out onto the stage together. She’s positioned so her face is practically smooshed into my ass crack, her hands gripping each leg tightly right above the knee, and as I take one slow step, she follows immediately, so we move as one unit. I’m sure if you removed the ruffled skirt, there’s nothing about this that’s graceful, but the audience is none the wiser. We look like one person as we step onto the stage.

For this routine, since I’m walking in five inch heels with a fully grown woman between my legs, the curtains open up before us and Des steps up beside me to help me walk out. She’s dressed as a colonial soldier, complete with her long braids tucked up into a hat.

The crowd roars when the spotlights find us at the back of the stage.

Des holds my hand up in the air and we slowly make our way to the center of the stage, then she releases me and bows before exiting.

I spread my white lace fan open and wave it toward myself, then slowly take a few more steps, smiling and winking at the crowd, bending over gracefully to give them ample view of my chest and the way it spills out of the top of my corset.

And they eat it up, following my every move.

For this routine, I sell them grace and beauty, simplicity in my sexuality; Scar’s part brings the sex. Raw, and dark, and borderline terrifying.

When we’ve reached the point in the song when the second vocalist begins the darker lyrics, I strip off my white corset, then reach down and slowly lift up the edge of my skirt. Scar emerges, looking like a sex demon in all that black, crawling across the floor like she’s ready to suck the life force out of everyone in the audience, and those in the crowd who have seen this act before cheer right along with those who have not. Because this routine is a freaking hit.

She eventually makes her way back to me, then undresses me until I’m in nothing but a tiny white thong, and we finish the song together, dancing along the edges of the stage. She gets a little more touchy feely with me than usual, and I let her, giving both my hyper sexual best friend and our hungry audience one amazing final routine.

When the music stops and Scar releases my breasts, my nipples throb in the absence of her fingers. She looks down at them, then up at me, smiling wickedly.

“Careful, babe, I might think you’re finally into girls,” she yells over the sound of the crowd.

She might be an actual sex demon.

Laughing, I shake my head, then grab her hand so we can take a bow.

Confetti and balloons burst from the ceiling and, one by one, the other girls make their way to the stage. Some have more balloons in their hands, while some carry bouquets of flowers. The telltale pop of a bottle of champagne opening only precedes the spray of bubbly by a split second. As Des douses us in champagne, Scar leans forward to lap at my chest... always looking for more ways to thrill the audience.

The DJ announces one last time that this is my final night, and as he thanks me on behalf of management and staff for my loyalty and all the work I’ve put into this club, Scar throws her arms around me in a tight embrace. The rest of the girls follow until we’re one big mess of arms and bodies and so much love.

Tears well in my eyes and I laugh as it finally hits me. I wasn’t feeling anything earlier because I wasn’t allowing myself to. I’m going to miss the hell out of this family I’ve created, and pretending that didn’t hurt was easier than acknowledging how very much I’ve come to love this place and these people.