Chapter 8

“What is this place?” Emma asked as Luke pulled his Audi into a packed parking lot near the airport. He glanced over at her grinning but didn’t answer. “Luke?”

The building itself was unobtrusive, white-washed with no windows from what she could see. It looked like an abandoned old factory or a storage facility until they pulled around to the front. There, Emma noticed a large lit up sign that boasted ‘The Mad Hatter’ with a scrolling LED digital ticker underneath that flashed ‘Amateur Night’.

“Oh my god, a strip joint?” Emma laughed nervously, trying to catch Luke’s eye. He pretended not to notice, instead kept his own eyes on the road, searching for a free parking space. He found one at the very end of the lot and pulled in before turning to meet her gaze.

“Ready?” he asked, his grin challenging her.

“For what?” she asked with a suspicious grin, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Come on,” he coaxed, opening the car door and stepping out into the damp night air.

Emma sat for a second or two, her heart beating in her chest. In a million years she never imagined herself visiting an exotic nightclub, let alone being the entertainment. Had he lost his mind?

Luke tapped on the window and knelt down, his grin encouraging her to follow. Emma inhaled deeply and tried to calm herself. She was nervous, but excited too. She smiled up at him, charmed by his boyish enthusiasm. He opened the door and wordlessly held his hand out to her.

“I hope you know what you’re doing...” she squeaked, surprised by the twang in her voice. Luke chuckled and helped her out of the car.

“Not in the slightest...”

They entered the club, Emma shrinking behind Luke, peeking out from behind his broad shoulders. He paid the cover charge (she was free) and then took her hand and led her inside.

“Stand up straight, you have nothing to worry about. Be fierce, you’re gorgeous,” he commanded, placing a hand on the small of her back. The gesture was helpful but she still felt out of place, like china in a bullpen. Nevertheless, she pulled her shoulders back and pretended to be brave.

They sat down at a small table, close enough to get a decent view of the stage, but far enough to be inconspicuous. Emma leaned on the table, ignoring the sticky residue, and stared at Luke. He seemed to be observing the room, getting his own bearings straight. Emma followed his gaze around the club, taking in the surroundings, her senses assaulted by neon pink, raunchy music, and the smell of stale beer. It was just like she had imagined it would be, sexy, seedy and gaudy, but in the best way possible. There seemed to be just as many women there as men, and everyone looked to be having a great time, like-minded people having some sexy fun, hoping to season their normally bland lives.

A delightful young server came by their table and crouched down beside Luke. She was wearing a black bikini top with two large red hearts on each cup and a pair of cheeky denim shorts. Her blonde hair was adorned with braids, pulled back on either side of her pretty face.

“Hi folks, I’m Leni, can I bring you something from the bar?”

“Absolutely, I will have a Bud Light and this lovely lady will have a gin and tonic with a twist of lime,” Luke ordered with a sexy lilt. He was in his element.

Leni glanced at Emma and smiled sweetly, “Are you entering the contest tonight?” she asked.

Emma chuckled, holding her hand up in front of her. “Oh, no, I don’t think so...” she protested at the exact same time that Luke offered an unequivocal yes. Emma looked at him wide-eyed, nerves fluttering in her belly, a protest on the tip of her tongue.

Leni giggled and shook her head as if wondering who was going to win the battle.

“Yes, she’s dancing, where do we sign up?” Luke insisted, his grin teasing Emma.

“I’ll send the M.C. over, he has the sign-up sheet. Good luck! I’ll bring your drinks back in a minute.”

Leni stood back up and they watched her walk over to a rather large, attractive man in tight leather pants, a black t-shirt and a white fedora. He looked over at Emma and smirked, throwing her a quick wave. Emma smiled weakly and quickly turned her head.

“Tell me why you want me to do this, Luke?” Emma pleaded, “I’m a 31-year-old woman. I can’t compete with these young girls! I’ll be booed off the stage.”

Luke looked at her confidently, gently shaking his head.

“Mimi, you’re right, there is no competition. You are, head and shoulders, sexier than most of the girls here tonight, trust me,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Tonight is not about them, or the crowd, or even me...it’s about you.” Emma looked at him quizzically, wondering what he was going on about.

“This is your chance to break out of that cocoon Andy had you so tightly wrapped up in. That fucker convinced you that you weren’t desirable, made you bury your sexuality, sit every fucking song out. Well, tonight you get to dance the way you did in class, when you felt like a strong, commanding, sexy woman. Think of this as your opening night where you get to debut the real you. Then you’ll see for yourself how desirable you are,” he encouraged, so convincingly that Emma almost felt her nerves disappear, almost.

“I can’t take off all my clothes in front of a room full of strangers...” she sputtered, looking nervously around the room.

Luke shook his head, “You don’t have to. Just get out there and groove, and go as far as you feel comfortable. It’s amateur night, anything goes. Do you remember your routines from class?”

She nodded awkwardly, considering his question. She had danced those routines at least a hundred times. It had been easy in a room full of friendly, stay at home moms and bored housewives, like herself. They laughed at themselves and encouraged one another for months, and it all felt so playful and innocent.

This was something completely different.

“Mimi, you can do this. I’m going to be right here, watching out for you. Just get out there and dance, kid,” he said, gently, “you got this.”

The MC approached the table just as Luke finished hugging her.

“Hi, I’m Jason, I hear you want to dance tonight. Good for you!” he said, directing his words to Emma.

She smiled at him noncommittally just as Leni returned with their drinks. She took the gin and tonic right from Leni’s hand and swallowed it down, not stopping until she hit the ice. Luke laughed, paying for their drinks.

“I must be crazy,” she grinned, looking wearily at handsome Jason.

“Honey, if you have a little rhythm and a lot of moxie, you’re going to slay it. With that red hair and those curves, come on now!” he growled, his flattery setting Emma more at ease.

“Oh, she can dance,” Luke chimed in, tossing Emma a wink. “Bring her another drink, would you Leni?” The server nodded at him. Emma’s eyes followed her to the bar.

A second look around the room convinced Emma that it might be ok. It was mostly a twenty and thirty-something crowd, and it was all in good fun. She understood Luke’s reasoning for bringing her. He had nailed the truth, all of it, and he wanted to help her undo all of Andrew’s conditioning. She had been one of his possessions for so long, trained to believe she couldn’t trust her own instincts and desires, using Emma’s insecurity as shackles, knowing they would hold her back.

This crazy, impulsive night was her moment and she could either crash through that glass box Andrew had imprisoned her in or she could continue to wither away, gasping for oxygen, shrinking under the ongoing effects of Andrew’s narcissistic control.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” Emma crowed, suddenly feeling determined. “Can I borrow your hat?”

Jason took his hat off and handed it to her with a sexy grin, “You sure can, Darlin’. What song do you want the DJ to play for your set?”

“Joe Cocker, “Leave Your Hat On,” Emma smiled bravely, placing the fedora on her head.

“Good choice,” Jason said, pressing his pen against his clipboard. “What’s your name, Sweetheart?”

Emma waited on the stage, her back to the crowd while Jason introduced her, her heart beating in her chest like a drum. She tried to tune out everything and everyone, instead focusing on her memories. She was in class with the mirrors, the music, the lights, and all the carefully placed poles and chairs, waiting for her instructor to lead a room full of giggling housewives through some sensual choreography. She had taken to the class like a fish to water, adoring the way it made her feel, moving her body to the music, elegantly and acrobatically swinging around the pole. While she was there, she felt free to express herself in a way she never felt at home.

“Put your hands together for Mimi...” Jason purred, his deep, radio voice rattling through the room.

It was as though everything disappeared when the song started, those familiar horns and piano chords that felt as familiar to her as breathing...and Joe’s sexy, sandpaper crooning, coaxing her to groove.

♪

Baby take off your coat

Real slow

And take off your shoes

I’ll take off your shoes

Baby take off your dress

Yes yes yes

You can leave your hat on

You can leave your hat on

You can leave your hat on... ♫

Emma moved her body like not a soul was watching, feeling the creamy seduction of the song, her hand holding the fedora on her head, swinging her hips to the sexy rhythms. Although she appreciated the cheers and whistles, she tuned it out as much as possible, focusing instead on the music and her own body, grateful that at least the crowd wasn’t booing.

Encouraged, she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse, unveiling her flesh at just the right moment, in perfect timing with the blasting trombone. She exposed her lacy black bra to the hoots and hollers of the appreciative audience, while men in the front row pounded their palms on the stage. For the first time in her life, she felt sexy, free, and completely in charge of her own body. She shimmied awkwardly out of her skirt, displaying the hot, pink panties Luke had gifted her earlier that day. Her ensemble was no more revealing than a bikini, and the fact that women wore much less on the beach than she modestly displayed on that stage reduced her anxiety significantly.

She floated around the pole, using her strong arms and legs to perform the acrobatic climbs, locks, transitions and inverts she learned in class, all in time to the sultry melody. She messed up once or twice, but no one seemed to care.

Most of the crowd seemed to appreciate her efforts. All but one. A boorish man sitting at the very end of perverts’ row. His voice seemed to carry over the music as he hollered suggestive and lewd obscenities at her, trying to lure her toward him with a hundred dollar bill. She ignored him the best she could, trying not to let it taint the experience for her, but his behavior and tone reminded her so much of Andrew shaming and degrading her. She could feel her confidence slipping and did her best to maintain the smile on her face, in spite of her shaken nerves.

“Come on baby, take the money for dance lessons...” the drunk man drawled, annoyed that she wasn’t responding to his bait. A few people reacted with disapproving stares and comments but he wasn’t deterred.

“Bring that pretty ass over here, you can sit on my face!” he snorted, his wide eyes leering at her. Emma tried to focus on the friendly faces around her instead, drawing strength from a few ladies lingering near the stage who were likely there to support their own friends or maybe even perform later themselves. For Emma, their nodding approvals and thumbs up gestures were very much appreciated, their kindness encouraging her to continue.

“Take it off, soccer mom, this ain’t no bake sale...” he slurred loudly, drawing Emma’s attention once more. She nervously looked his way and noticed Luke suddenly standing beside him, his hand placed firmly on the man’s shoulder, whispering something in his ear. The drunk’s smile slowly disappeared as he shifted himself off the bar stool, no doubt with the assistance of Luke’s strong grip on his shirt. The crowd around him cheered their approval as the drunk man staggered away and Luke took his place at the end of the runway.

Emma sashayed over to where he was sitting and held her hand out to him, inviting him on stage. At first, he balked at her gesture, waving her off, but the crowd wouldn’t let him off the hook. They cheered loudly, encouraging him to man up and join her. She pulled a chair forward and invited him to sit down, right in the middle of the stage.

“What the hell, Mimi, I’m not supposed to be part of the act,” Luke chuckled through tight lips and a cocky smile, but she knew he was enjoying the attention.

“You are now,” she giggled, dancing provocatively around him. She bent her body over in front of his chair, exposing her backside and long legs to him, cheekily looking over her shoulder at him. He shook his head, but couldn’t shake his smile.

She finished off the song, gyrating playfully around him, egged on by a crowd eager to watch her tease and torture him. Having him on stage with her suddenly made it fun and he took it in stride, happy to play along while she finished her sexy routine. His responses were perfect, graciously pretending to enjoy her seduction. The song ended to thunderous applause, with Emma in his lap. She offered him a friendly kiss on the lips, mouthing ‘thank-you’ as she pulled away, her breath heavy from exertion. Emma took the gleam in his eyes as approval. They held their gaze for several seconds, caught up in a special, intimate moment, surveying one another curiously, Luke’s breathing just as labored as her own.

“Thank you, Mimi!” Jason chirped into the mic, breaking their focus. He gathered her clothing as he made his way over to where she and Luke were sitting. He bent down and picked up the hat that had fallen off during her performance and placed it playfully back on Emma’s head.

“Oh no, this is yours,” she giggled, handing it back over to him.

“Keep it as a souvenir,” Jason insisted, talking away from the mic so the crowd wouldn’t overhear him, “you earned it, honey.”

Emma stood up with Luke following suit, accepting her skirt and blouse from Jason. She modestly covered herself, smiling nervously at the crowd.

“Take a bow, Mimi,” Jason encouraged, gesturing toward her. She offered a sloppy curtsy to the cheering crowd as Luke hurried her off the stage. He led her toward the ladies bathroom, her hand firmly in his. The rude drunk that heckled her was standing casually off to one side, nursing a fresh drink, but he turned his head as soon as they approached, afraid to meet Luke’s stare.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” Luke assured, kissing the top of her head, “I promise.”

After she returned, fully clothed, they watched few more performances but Emma didn’t want to wait around to hear if she had won the competition. It really didn’t matter to her. She already felt like she got what she needed from the experience. Part of that was the validation that she was still desirable, and Luke had been there for her the whole time. He totally had her back.