At Assets, Tess found herself incredibly at home and deeply disoriented. This was a world she’d seamlessly inhabited for what seemed like her entire lifetime. She’d worked in club after club since she was a teenager, supporting herself on tips, refining her dancing skills, and gradually working her way up in the world. She’d had a knack for both the athletic elements of dancing and the more elegant and sexual aspects as well. She’d sold herself for sex when she’d needed to, and she didn’t have shame about that, but it was the dancing she’d always loved. When Toro had made her the offer to follow him home for a night, she’d thought it was a good way to earn a handful of cash; he’d certainly been waving around more than she’d ever seen in a single roll before. He’d promised her she didn’t even have to have intercourse, and his word had been good. But one night had turned into two, a few more, and then she was giving up the room she had in the small apartment she’d shared with a few other girls from the club. She’d let him buy her new clothes, first dancewear for her night job, and once she left that, for her to wear around the penthouse. He’d used her as an ornament; a pretty toy to reward those who pleased him and to take out his anger when something in his business hadn’t gone his way.
She’d never minded, not really. After the way she’d grown up, on the street as often as she was off it, having a roof over her head was worth almost anything. Sex was a commodity to be traded for whatever she needed; at some points in her life, it was one of the few things she’d had to give.
Something had changed in the past few weeks though. It wasn’t that the time with Milo had made her disgusted with this world, or even with herself, but it had put a lens between her and the world that hadn’t existed before. She looked around and found herself wondering what it had looked like here, in this club, before she’d spent a month being fucked by a man who could play her body like a tuning fork. It felt different. Colors were brighter, but the floor was more worn. She was confused by it at the same time that she tried to disregard it.
She had taken the tags off the dance outfit she’d picked out and thrown the gear into an old shoulder bag, covered in sequins and sparkles, that she’d found on her way out of the store. She’d made Milo stop at a drugstore too, and put together a quick makeup bag that would do. After all, she wouldn’t be expected to have all the right gear if she was just there for a tryout. Most girls, if they didn’t have a reputation for drinking or drugs, would get a small advance to get whatever they needed for their first night on stage. But she had a reputation to uphold, after all.
She pasted a big smile on her face and sauntered straight over to Sammy. He was sitting at the bar with a glass of what looked like water in front of him, bent over a laptop with accounting software pulled up. Of all Toro’s managers, she’d liked Sammy best, despite what she’d said to Milo. Sammy had always been polite to her, both when she’d been dancing and when he’d come by Toro’s penthouse for one thing or another. He’d never taken her when she’d been offered. He was a tall man, plain and nondescript, with ash blond hair and hazel eyes. He smiled, though, and when he smiled, he was impossible to miss. She knew he took care of his girls. He liked to look, but he didn’t touch, and he was careful about letting drugs into his building. She’d heard he’d stuck up for girls who were dealing with handsy customers.
If she were looking for a new dancing job, this was where she’d look.
A couple of girls were up on the stage in workout clothes, practicing their routines. It was always a little weird watching girls dance around a pole in regular stretchy pants and a basic sports bra. She knew there were pole dancing workout classes now, which was just bizarre. Sure, it was a fantastic workout, but what kind of gentrifying nonsense was it that these pretty little wives would dance their asses off to stay skinny while they looked down their noses at the girls who had to do it for a living. As if their husbands didn’t turn up and try really hard to stuff a hundred-dollar bill in a girl’s G-string (she never let anyone. That was a way to get hepatitis, and she was not interested. Money was filthy, emotionally and literally).
She forced the judgmental thoughts out of her head as well as she could. After all, wasn’t she trying hard to be the pretty little wife now? She’d miss the dancing – not just the sexy parts, but the sheer athleticism of twirling around the pole, her arms and legs working as hard as they could to keep her suspended in the air. She was half acrobat and half sex toy up there, and she loved both sides equally. She’d pouted and moped until Toro had installed a proper pole for her, and she’d kept up with her routines as best as she could, inventing new ones to new songs as they became popular, updating older routines to new music when the music got stale. She’d always been a soft-bodied, curvy woman, but she was strong, and she liked being strong. It helped her feel safe.
Maybe, if she took Milo up on his offer, she’d get him to set her up a pole, too. She could be like all the other pretty wives in whatever neighborhood they found and stay fit by doing what she’d always done. The irony would be its own kind of delicious.
Sammy heard her heels click-clacking across the floor and turned. Even in the casual short shorts and low-cut tank that Milo had bought her, she knew she was a stunner – and she knew she was recognizable. Tess loved how Sammy looked her up and down, a small smile on his face. He appreciated her body without seeming to undress her with his eyes. There was no noticeable shifting of his hardening dick, no smirking thought of how he could have her if he wanted her plastered across his face. Just a quiet appreciation for the girl sashaying towards him.
“Theresa Graham, as I live and breathe,” he said. He was from somewhere in the South, she’d never exactly pinned down where, but he tended to play up his accent when it suited him. He held out a hand and took hers, lifting it up to his lips for the kind of kiss that would have been appropriate in a fancy restaurant or a period movie. “We all thought for you sure you went down in the raid that took out Toro’s place.”
Her stomach fluttered for a moment, and she forced herself to remember that no one was going to volunteer any information to her right now; anything that he said to her at this moment would be a smokescreen, no matter what he did or didn’t know. She smiled back, letting him hold her hand for an extra moment before taking it back. Might as well be sweet and flattering.
Behind her, she heard the door to the club open, very gently; if she hadn’t been listening for the sound, she probably would have missed it. Milo had wanted to follow her in, but she’d managed to explain – repeatedly but firmly – that she would never get any information at all out of Sammy if he tried that. There were a time and a place for his sort of interrogation – and a time and a place for hers.
“It’s been an awfully long time since I heard that name, Samuel,” she said, and Sammy gave a little laugh. “I am a good little kitty who used to have nine lives.” She returned his little laugh. Toro had called her his pet for the longest time, and it used to annoy her; now it was the kind of signal she hoped would tell Sammy she could be trusted. Even though she couldn’t. “Or at least, I did until some men came and shot up Toro’s place.”
“How did you get out?” The question felt casual, but it made her stomach jump all the same. Sammy wasn’t stupid, and no one around a drug lord was presumed innocent. Anyone could have turned to the cops, gotten in too deep with another family, or any other number of things that could threaten an entire community.
She shrugged. “I still don’t entirely know. I was in the bath when everything went down. I hid in a closet when I heard the gunshots. Came out when things were quiet. There was so much blood, and the penthouse was empty. I grabbed what I could carry and ran for it. I’ve been staying with a friend for a while; I thought Toro would come for me.” She let her face fall, biting her lower lip like a sad little girl who was all alone in the rain. “I guess I wasn’t as important to him as he always said.” She would have let a tear leak out if she hadn’t thought that would be too ridiculous to be believed.
“Men like Toro can never be trusted,” Sammy said with the wise tone of someone who had been down that road and knew where it led. “Men like me, however; tell me what you need, Tess.”
“Frankly, I need a job. I’ve been couch surfing for weeks now, and I’m tired of it. If Toro’s done with me, fine, but I need to earn my way.” She let all her fierce pride, entirely true and real, shine through her expression. “I’m not going to go crawling around town begging some other two-bit street dealer for a bed to sleep in just so he can start hooking me out for rent money. I’ll do what I have to do, but I’m better than that.”
Sammy nodded, and when he stepped back from her and looked her up and down again, he had a different light in his eyes this time. “You used to be pretty good on the dance floor,” he said. His gaze focused on her arms, her legs, her waist, the parts of her body that would show strength and power, even under their softness. “Still know how to twirl on a pole?”
She grinned and struck a bit of a pose, one leg out to the side, hip cocked, her hand on her hip. Like a slutty actress on a very different sort of red carpet. “I’ve kept my hand in over the years.”
“You understand I have to ask you to show me.” Sammy’s voice sounded just a little reluctant. “I’m sorry, Tess, I’d take it on faith if I could, but you understand?”
She nodded. “Bringing me on would be a risk. You need to be sure I’m worth it. I get it.”
He sighed just a little. “Thank you, girl. I appreciate it. You have an outfit? Makeup?”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m like one of those scouts, always prepared.”
He pointed down a dim hallway. “Dressing room is down there. Come out when you’re ready, and we’ll see what you have.”
Tess kept up her saunter until she was out of sight, and then her confidence faltered. She caught herself against the wall and took a long, slow breath. If she’d ever thought she could go back to this life permanently, she was wrong. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, never that. But her body… Even before the threat of stretch marks and weight changes that never quite resolved, she didn’t want to live in a world anymore where her usefulness had an expiration date. The prettiest girls danced in the nicest clubs, and as you got older, you were squeezed out of jobs again and again until you wound up in a rundown dive on the outskirts of town, frequented by truckers who only tipped if they got to grope your boobs and get a lap dance. Girls ended up waitressing or hooking in the shitty parts of town, or worse, muling drugs for some pimp who was using the dope to keep other girls whoring for him. Having a steady thing with Toro, there’d been a chance that maybe, eventually, she’d end up running a business of her own; she’d worked hard on showing him that she was smart and savvy as well as incredible in bed and willing to give it up to anyone he sent to her. Without that kind of backing, she’d never make it on her own. Sure, America was the land of opportunity, but opportunity was a hell of a lot easier to come by when you were rich, white, and had a penis.
At that moment, she knew she’d take Milo’s deal, no matter what happened. She liked running her hand over the soft space of her stomach and knowing that there was something there which would, in time, be her baby; more important than that, though, was the knowledge that she’d never have to worry about stretch marks impacting her income. She wouldn’t have to think about what to do when she wasn’t pretty enough to catch someone’s attention anymore.
And she’d make it up to the universe, this incredible stroke of luck that she was catching right now. She’d volunteer at women’s shelters, put in hours at the birth control clinic, work with women who needed to get their GEDs – get hers, for fuck’s sake – absolutely anything in order to make it up to the world that she was going to get out of this downward spiral and get herself safe. Get herself and her baby safe.
She took a long, slow, steadying breath. The first step to making that happen was to show Sammy what she could do on a pole. He’d offer her a job, she knew he would, and then she’d be able to listen for information while she was working and work the other clubs and businesses in the area with Milo the rest of the time. She straightened and went into the dressing room to pull on the dance outfit she’d made a man buy her so she could dance for another man. She stuffed her tits into the top and made sure the bottoms more or less covered her ass. She put on makeup that was just a little too much, too dark and too bold; it would look garish out on the street, but in the darkness of a club, it would be absolutely perfect.
Therese Graham, Sammy had called her, and where he’d picked up that name, she had no idea. She’d been just Tess for a decade. It was a little weird, honestly, but it didn’t matter now. Maybe she’d start using it all again – when Milo found her somewhere safe. Maybe the baby could be a Graham as well.
No, she thought after a moment. Graham was her deadbeat father’s name, and she’d never even met the asshole. She’d stopped using his name because it never reminded her of herself, just him. The baby would have Milo’s last name. And if he didn’t want that, she’d make one up. Make one up for both of them.
She settled her boobs one more time, and when she followed the pathway to the stage, she was grinning for real.
Sammy was ready with music; he called out a list of songs he had available, and she picked one that she’d been practicing for. She had a couple of routines that could be adapted to just about anything with a strong beat, but this one had good timing and showed off the strength in her arms. She struck her easy pose, and then went into the routine on the beat, letting muscle memory take over. This was why she’d kept practicing, no matter what was happening in her day to day life. You couldn’t be thinking about moving your leg this way or pointing your hand just so when you were dancing, and she didn’t care if the stage was in front of thousands and a proscenium or in the back of a smoky bar. You had to be able to let your body do the movements and bring your heart out in the details. She was rusty – she’d hardly been able to practice while Milo had her chained to the bed – but as she sank into the beat and the moves, she found her way. She trembled a little on some of her lifts, and her leg wraps were just a little off, but she didn’t fall or hit her head, or any other humiliating thing that she’d seen happen to girls who were trying too hard. Her bottoms also did not try to crawl up her ass, which she appreciated. She hadn’t been able to find any double-sided tape in the dressing room and had forgotten to bring her own.
When the music died out as she struck her final pose, she glanced out into the room. If the club were open, it would be dark and dim, the faces of those on the floor more shapes than realities. Now, with the lights mostly on, she could see Sammy in the front, clapping gently and grinning at her. But in the back of the room, she could see Milo. He stood against the wall like a living statue made of shadow, but there was something on his face. It came shockingly close to awe.
She had a funny idea that she’d done a lot more just now than show off for someone who was close to an old friend. She gave a goofy little bow, designed to be “Oh my, are you clapping for me?” kind of humble and cute. She forced herself not to stare at Milo; if Sammy saw a stranger hanging out in the back of the club, she’d be tossed out on her ear so fast. But she found herself wanting to kiss him, climb him like a tree, and tell him that he could have her for everything he’d ever wanted, and see how fast he ripped these pants off her. She wanted to call him Daddy again and hear him snarl.
“So, what do you think, Sammy, do you have a spot for me?”
“I know just the place.” He grinned at her.
She glanced up again, and her shadow statue was gone.