Dirty Nights

by A. M. Hargrove

  “It’s wonderful to see you too, Marianna. And I owe you a gigantic apology.”

  “Come and sit.” We move into her living area and I can see she has tea prepared. She always serves hot tea when I come to visit.

  After I take a seat, I jump right in because I have to get this off my chest. “I’m so sorry for lying to you. But the honest truth is after I went to the first audition, I lost all the confidence and faith I had in myself. I saw those other dancers and how they looked and knew I was just a girl from the other side of the tracks and I could never be like that. So I never went back. But I want you to know how much it meant to me for you to help me. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before and I appreciate it so much. But I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations.

  “Are you finished?”

  “What?”

  “Talking. Are you finished?”

  “Oh, I suppose.”

  “Good. Now listen up young lady. If you don’t want to dance, fine. But if you do, then you need to buck up and quit feeling sorry for yourself. Most, yes most, of those dancers you saw aren’t worth a shit.” My mouth drops open. “You heard me. The only reason you think they can dance is because they give the impression they can. But they stink. Unlike you, they don’t work hard yet think they deserve to be given a part just because. Listen to me Skylina. Start auditioning. You will bomb on your first several. Only because your nerves will rattle you to the point that they will effect your performance. But that’s why you must keep doing it. Each time you audition, you’ll get better and better. And tell all those tight ass dancers to fuck off if they bother you.”

  Now my eyes are open as wide as my mouth.

  “I see I’ve gotten your attention. Jimmy said he’d go with you. Let him. It will boost your confidence, and if that’s what it takes, then do it. You hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “And stop calling me ma’am, damn it.”

  “Okay, Marianna.”

  “Good. I’m glad that’s settled. As soon as I find another audition, you’re going, even if I have to drag you myself. Do you understand me? I’m not getting any younger here and I want to see you on stage before I die.”

  “Marianna! Stop saying that.”

  “Why? It’s true! You don’t seem to understand something. You are extremely talented, and I’m going to do my damnedest, even if I have to harass you, to get you out there. So stop being a damn pussy and do it already!”

  “Marianna! You’re shocking me!”

  “Good. Now tell me the latest gossip. How’s the strip club coming along? I love your stories!”

  So I tell her about my latest crazy clients and she laughs and laughs. When it’s time for me to get back I look at her and say, “Marianna, you make me feel good and no one’s done that in a long time.”

  She grabs my hand and squeezes it.

  “Good. Then return the favor and dance for me, darling.”

  When I get to work that night, Jimmy is waiting for me as usual.

  “I visited Marianna today. I love that woman.”

  “I know. My aunt called. She was happy you came.”

  “I wish she could’ve been my mom.”

  “I wish so too, Sky.”

  Tonight’s busy for midweek. I haven’t had a break all night and I get back to my dressing room to guzzle some water. Dancing is hard work, though most people don’t think of it as such. I totally throw myself into it because even though it is a strip club, I still love it.

  Jimmy sticks his head in. “You’ve got someone waiting. Lights are super dim. He only wanted you lit on the pole. And you get to choose your music.

  “Oh, that’s great.” I’ll choose Ke$ha’s Your Love Is My Drug. I love dancing to this song.

  When I walk in, the client is seated and it’s so dark I can’t really see him. He’s wearing a hoodie, with the hood shielding his face. I can only see shadows created by the light. His legs are extended and crossed at the ankles. He wears jeans and running shoes and keeps his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

  His instructions were the pole and that’s fine by me. This way I don’t have to get near him. I love the pole anyway. I spin, grip it with my thighs, hang upside down, maneuver my way around, all to the beat of Ke$ha. The next song plays and I waste no time picking up the beat. Soon my time’s up, and I move away from the pole. Usually the client says something. Not this one. He just sits there, staring, I presume, because I can’t really see him. He offers no tip, nothing. After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, I leave.

  Back in my dressing room, I think about him. Jimmy sticks his head in and I tell him about it.

  “Maybe he was mute.”

  “Maybe. Whatever. It’s over now.”

  “And you got yourself a thirty minute break, doll.”

  I check the clock and see it’s close to closing. “How many more after this?”

  “I need to check to see what’s going on with the other girls. You don’t have any clients tonight, do you?”

  “Nope. Free night.”

  “Let me see if I can cut you loose early.”

  “Okay.”

  I’m daydreaming about Ryder when Jimmy interrupts me.

  “Sorry babe, but your last client wants you till closing.”

  “What? That’s weird. Now I won’t make any tips.”

  Jimmy pats my arms. “Sorry, doll.”

  “Same deal?”

  “Yep. Two more pole sessions.”

  “Shiz, I’ll be exhausted.”

  “Right? Your thighs will be like rubber.”

  “Ferk!”

  After my break, I go back to my little box and there is mystery man. I cue up the music and begin. He never moves a hair. Sits there like a statue. After two full sessions, I can barely stand anymore. When I get ready to head out, he clears his throat. I turn to look at him and his arm is extended, money sticking out between his index and forefinger. Smiling, I take it and leave. When I get to my dressing room I look at it and find he handed me two- five hundred dollar bills. What. The. Ferk! Well, I guess my exhaustion was well worth a thousand bucks!

  Using Ryder’s security code and key, I let myself into his apartment, but come up short when I find it empty. He’s not here. Neither are any of his belongings. His bed and couch are still here. But all of his clothes and personal items are gone. He’s moved out. I find a note on the bathroom mirror.

  S,

  The place is yours, rent-free.

  Keep it.

  R

  What the hell is going on? He just moves out and gives me his apartment? Like that? This is so confusing; I don’t know what to think. All the sheets are new. The towels are new. His dresser is empty. He left nothing behind that would remind me of him, other than the bed, couch and building itself. Where the hell did he go and why would he leave? It all crashes down on me that I know abso-ferking-lutely nothing about Ryder Christiansen. Not a blasted thing. I don’t know what he does, where he works, nothing. And the worst thing about it is, all I want right now is him. I want him inside of me; I want his mouth on me, everywhere. Because thoughts of him are so consuming, they’re all I can think of. My body clenches in response and even the mere idea of being in his apartment has me wet with want for him. My hand automatically slips between my legs and before I can contemplate what I’m doing, my fingers massage myself to a quick climax in search of some relief. But there is none. It’s every bit as frustrating afterward. Because I want his hot breath on me, his tongue inside of me, and most of all, I want his cock. All of it. Fast. Hard. Rough. My clothes land in a pile around my feet and I crawl between the sheets. Sleep is fitful and I’m cranky as hell the next day when I go home.

  Over time, I move things to the apartment. My mom is curious about it, but I refuse to give her concrete answers. Every now and again, her hand tries to connect with my face, so I know this idea of taking Ryder’s apartment over is even better than I’d imagined. But it’s still a shell
without him. My body aches for his touch. Whenever I think of him, my breasts swell and my nipples harden into painful peaks. Sometimes I have to run home to ease my discomfort. This is damn crazy! What the hell has he done to me?

  The other night, when I was with George, I made him bite my nipple. He was shocked and then became so excited over the prospect of doing it to the other nipple, he started barking and howling like a dog. I almost had to pepper spray him. I have to pull myself together here. Next thing I know George will be slapping my ass. Holy hell. Maybe I need a vacation or something. I know one thing. Ryder’s ruined me for all my clients. It’s getting harder and harder to act around them. I daydream and can’t separate myself anymore. If I don’t pull my shiz together and fast, J.D. is going to start getting complaints from my men. That would be my kiss of death for certain.

  I need to talk to someone about this and the only one I trust enough is Cara. I send her a text and we arrange to meet for lunch the next day.

  I’m sitting at the table, waiting on Cara, when she waltzes in. Every head turns and stares. Long, straight black hair, Cara is Asian and is stunning. You can’t look at her and let it go. She has the kind of beauty that traps your eyes and then lures the rest of you in. She must be a siren because sometimes even I can’t stop staring at her. Too bad I don’t swing both ways.

  “What are you thinking? You have that crazy-ass look on your face.”

  Laughing, I say, “I’m upset that I don’t go both ways. You’re damn hot, girl.”

  She laughs and says, “You’re nuts. And if I went both ways, I’d go for you too, Sky.”

  “Gah, we’re a mess, aren’t we?”

  “Nah, just two nutty girls. So what’s up?”

  “Well, I am a mess.” I explain the whole sitch with Ryder.

  “Well, fuck me fucking. Hot damn. I’m wet just listening to you. But Sky, you don’t know a damn thing about this dude. Do you trust him?”

  “Yeah. I do. That first night he stopped the rape from happening, he could’ve done something bad to me then, but he didn’t. And then all those other nights I’ve been with him, I’ve felt safer than I’ve ever felt before.”

  “You gotta find him. Somehow.”

  “I know that. But how?”

  “You know he was at that coffee shop, right?”

  Smiling, I nod. I never gave that a thought. “Yeah. Joe and Mo’s. He’s a recovering addict so he doesn’t drink. But he does teas and coffees. I do know that much. He offered me that herbal tea after I was attacked.”

  “So he’s a recovering addict. Like does he go to meetings?”

  “Uggghhh! I never asked. It just seemed like the wrong thing to dig into at the time. Honestly we mostly fucked. And boy did we ever.”

  “My bet is that he’s thinking about it as much as you are. Come on. If he gave you his apartment and paid for it, he has to know something about you.”

  My heart slams to the floor. I suddenly feel like throwing up. “Oh God. Do you think he knows? I mean I’d go straight there in my clothes after a client. But I’d always shower before we’d do anything.”

  “I don’t know, but how could he know? Do you think he followed you?” Cara asks.

  I rub my thighs, trying to dry off my now sweaty palms. “But how? My driver always picks me up at the club. And he never drops me off at home. Usually a couple of blocks away.”

  “Does he know you work at Exotique-A?”

  “No!”

  We both sit in silence, puzzling this thing out.

  Cara finally breaks the quiet and says, “I don’t know sweetie. But if I were you, I’d start paying frequent visits to that coffee shop. And I mean real frequent.”

  THREE

  Skylina

  Joe and Mo’s has a new best customer. I didn’t know a person could consume this much coffee. And the people here are becoming my besties too. This is crazy. I didn’t even know they made these many kinds of coffee drinks. And after all these visits, I haven’t had one ferking sighting. But I’m not giving up. No siree. If anything, I’m persistent.

  Joe and Mo’s is on my way to work, so I stop and grab an extra large coffee for the walk in. I’ve really given up seeing him again. I suppose it was too good to be true. A girl like me would never find someone like him … on a permanent basis anyway. So it was probably a good thing that he left when he did. My thoughts are still all jumbled as I walk to work. The big thing on my mind is how long before I’ll be evicted from the apartment. It’s been such a nice change, not having to live with Mom. The absence of putting up with her bitterness and anger has been a breath of spring air in my life. Thinking of going back to the way it was sickens me to no end.

  When I walk in the back door of the club, Jimmy meets me and is all excited. He tells me that Marianna has signed me up for an audition the next afternoon.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. She says she tried to call several times but your phone acted weird.”

  I dig through my purse and find my phone. There are zero missed calls. “That’s strange.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a new one. You know how those things are.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’ll check into it.”

  “Oh, and one other thing. Your client from the other night? The one that never said a word? He’s coming in at ten. He wants you for the rest of the night.”

  “Oh, hellz yeah! I’ll take those kinds of tips any day!” The mystery dude just made my night.

  “He’s requested you wear only a black G-string. Nothing else.”

  “Got it. Hell, I’ll wear one with his name on it if he wants,” I laugh.

  Jimmy shakes his head and walks away.

  At ten, I walk into the box and there he sits, exactly like before. I dance for him until closing time. I’m not sure how long it is. Again, he never speaks. No requests, nothing. I do my own things and when his time is up, he hands me my tip, between his two fingers again. This time he gives me three grand. Holy. Ferk! I skip, yes skip back to my dressing room. Jimmy and Cara come in and we’re all laughing and happy as can be.

  “Hey, let’s go out for drinks. Right now.”

  Neither of them can make it. I cover up my disappointment by saying, “Hey, no worries. I’m tired anyway. And I have that audition tomorrow. It’s best not to go with a hangover.”

  Jimmy pipes in and asks, “You want me to come with you?”

  “You’re the best Jimmy, but I’ve got this.” I kiss his cheek.

  After I get changed into my jeans and a T-shirt, I head out the door. Knowing it’s not the smartest idea, I decide anyway to walk home. I need to clear my head and get my shiz straight. On the way, I get the sense I’m being followed. When I look over my shoulder, I don’t see anyone. But still, I pick up my pace, until I’m in front of my—Ryder’s apartment. It’s not possible to think of this place without thinking of Ryder. I’ll always think of this place as his.

  When I unlock the door, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. The hot water soothes and calms me after a long night of dancing. I wrap the towel around me and walk to the bedroom, in search of a T-shirt.

  “You shouldn’t dance like that for strangers.”

  “AAAHH!” I scream. The hooded stranger is sitting on my bed, feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

  “Drop that towel, Skylina.” I’d know that voice anywhere.

  “Not until you take that hood off.” He reaches up and tugs it off. “When did you find out?”

  “The same time I found out you’re also a fucking paid whore. That you sell yourself to other men.” His voice is low, but hard.

  His words bite much deeper and hurt far worse than anything has ever hurt me before. Worse than when my dad walked out of my life and abandoned me. Worse than when my mom sold me to Mikey. And greater than any physical punch anyone ever landed on me.

  My fists clutch the towel to me and I hang my head in shame. Tears instantly blur my vision and the urge to get out of here
overwhelms me. But my clothes are in the bedroom and he’s next to the dresser where they’re stored.

  “Are you deaf? I told you to drop the towel.” His voice is like vinegar to my wounds.

  I back out of the room, away from him. My brain tumbles with thoughts of what to do, where to go. My coat … it’s in the living room, but my shoes are in the bathroom. I can make do with them and figure something out later.

  “Skylina,” he calls out, “I’m paying you. Is my money not good enough for you?”

  Paying me? What is he talking about? I don’t care to find out because every one of his words is like a razor blade slicing up my heart and soul and I can’t bear for them to be sliced any more. I stumble into the bathroom, and attempt to push my feet into my shoes, but they aren’t cooperating. When I try to run to the living room, I trip and fall, letting go of the towel as my hands smack the floor. My palms sting like fire and as I lie there, I see a pair of feet in my line of vision.

  “You’re a kept woman, Skylina. Where are you going?” His tone is so scathing it makes me cringe.

  I know I must escape from here … get away because his words make me feel dirty … so much dirtier than I already am. And it’s making me sick to my stomach. I scramble to my hands and knees and crawl to my coat. Shoving my hands through the sleeves, I somehow manage to get it on. But I can’t button it because my hands are trembling so much. With one shoe on and one off, coat unbuttoned, I run out the door. Tripping down the steps, I twist my ankle and fall the last three, slamming onto the floor and bruising my knees. My vision is so blurred from my tears, I can’t see.

  Bands of steel wrap around my torso and lift me. He carries me back to that horrible place from which I want to flee. When he gets inside, he slams the door behind us and drops me on the couch. He returns with some tissues and removes the one shoe I’m wearing. Then he examines my ankle, which is already swelling. I realize then, that I’ve ruined my chance for the audition the next day and a new flood of tears bursts through my lids.