Midnight Ballerina

by Cori Williams

  My mouth opened and closed several times, his words taking a few minutes to sink in. He wanted me up on the stage? Tonight. As a dancer? Swinging around on the pole and putting on a show. For all of those people out there. My emotions were all over the place. The thrill of the stage, of performing, was calling me. It had been so long since I felt that exhilaration rush through me, knowing people were entertained watching moves I’d practiced hours to perfect. But at the same time, I realized that the ones watching at Pure would be waving around dollar bills, and I didn’t think I could handle that.

  “You know what, Randy? I don’t think I’m really ready for—”

  “No one’s ever really ready, doll,” he interrupted. “But since it’s your last night, you should dance. It is what you were hired for. Diane has everything set up for you already. Catch up with Vanessa if you need any extra tips before you head out. You’re on in about thirty. Don’t worry, you’ll do great.”

  He didn’t wait for me to reply, just left me standing there with my mouth hanging wide open, looking for some coherent words, but I couldn’t find them. I was shocked. His tone was harsh, as if it being my last night meant I’d faulted on an agreement or something. I should have been enraged, but he’d nicked my pride. It made me…determined. So, I did what Randy told me and went on the search for Diane.

  I met Diane a few times before, but I didn’t deal with her very often because she was kind of like the mom for all of the dancers and didn’t really interact with the waitresses much. She was there to make sure the dancers had everything they needed, from extra deodorant, to tweezers, and even tampons.

  “There you are, Monroe. Randy said that you might need my help tonight. I have everything right here for you.” Diane patted a pile of what looked to be mostly lingerie with all the tags intact, so at least I didn’t need to worry about anything being used. “The girls mostly supply their own outfits, but Randy figured since this is your first time, we would set up your outfit. Plus, he had an idea for a sort of theme for you. Here.” She handed me the scraps of material and I started going through each piece individually, until I landed on a black ballerina tutu.

  I brushed my fingers over the tulle material and so many memories of my dancing life rushed forward. Practicing day and night, recital after recital, the dedication and responsibility it took, but I loved every minute. I even caught myself before busting out into a tiny pirouette. Save it for the stage, Monroe.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone, but Diane patted me on the back and pointed toward a changing room.

  “You’ll do just fine, dear. Now that top is a little difficult.” She took a stretchy band of black material out of my hands, holding it out in front of her.

  “That’s a top?”

  “It is. See?” She stretched it out slightly and then crisscrossed it. “This is how you put it on. It crisscrosses over your boobies, so it covers up the nips.”

  I gaped at her as she handed the “top” back to me, but she just answered me with a bright smile.

  “Now, go on. I’ll help you with your makeup if you need it. Vanessa said she would pop over in a bit to give you a few tips before you’re up, but you need to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  I LOOKED AT myself once more in the mirror and again wondered what in the hell I was doing. I should just walk right out the back door and leave this place. But on the other hand, this was going to be a one-time thing. No one would ever have to know and I could take the extra cash I made tonight and use it as a cushion, just in case. Plus, I would be on a stage. As long as I shut out all of the customers watching me for reasons other than the precision of my leg extensions were or how clean my lines were, I would be okay. I would be alive out there on the stage. I was starting to bounce back and forth on the balls of my feet, the excitement of the upcoming performing starting to build.

  My hair was still pulled up into a ponytail and that was the only thing that felt normal about me. The crisscross bra thing that Diane gave me really didn’t cover much and I was feeling very exposed, not to mention that it left my stomach completely bare. I thought the tutu would give me some kind of coverage and then I put on what resembled a thong but Diane called it a t-back. I could see why because it was basically a string in the form of a T and the tutu seemed to rise up in the back, most likely on purpose, and I could feel a nice draft on my ass.

  The “theme” that Randy was going with was pretty obvious, especially since the heels I was wearing were laced around my ankles, similar to a pair of ballet flats, but with about five inches of height added to them. I should’ve never mentioned I was a dancer.

  “Oh my goodness, look at you.” Vanessa put a hand over her mouth and I backed toward the changing room.

  “I look like a four-year-old playing dress-up, don’t I? I can’t go out there.”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just tell Randy no.” She put her hand in mine and squeezed. “What’s Randy going to do, fire you? It’s your last night. You don’t need to go up there.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing what Vanessa said was true, I could say no, but I didn’t. Maybe I couldn’t.

  I shook my head. “I’m okay with going out there. I’m just not so sure about what I’m wearing.”

  “Don’t be silly. You look gorgeous. Like a naughty ballerina. Those guys out there are going to gobble that right up.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me and a strained noise sounded from the back of my throat.

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Don’t worry. Here, I brought something back for you.” She shoved two shot glasses into each of my hands. “We’re really not supposed to drink on the job, but I think this is one of those special occasions.” I just clutched the glasses tightly in my fists, staring down at them, so Vanessa nudged me. “Go on. It’ll help with the nerves.”

  I blew out a breath, knowing she was completely right and tossed both drinks back, one right after another, wincing as the liquor hit my tongue and ran down my throat. I slammed both glasses down once they were drained.

  “Okay, I can do this.” I took one step forward and then shook my head, taking one step back. “No, no, I can’t. What in the hell am I going to do out there? I’m used to doing choreographed pieces, stuff that I’ve worked on for months before I get out there and perform. I don’t have anything planned.”

  “You were excellent in our practices, just use some of that stuff and you’ll be fine. The guys out there aren’t expecting some piece of choreographed dancing. Pick out something you love to dance to and have the DJ play it. You’ve got this, girlie.”

  “Right.” I nodded my head in agreement. “I’ve totally got this. Just pick out something I can dance to and I’ll picture the audience naked or something. I’m already halfway there.”

  Vanessa gave me a half-smile, pointing toward the entrance of the stage. “That’s where you need to go, if you’re really going to go through with this.”

  I nodded once and went in that direction. I knew the DJ would be right there, so I could talk to him first and decide what music I wanted to go with.

  Okay, this was really starting to seem real now.

  I found the DJ, or DJ Samples as he liked to call himself according to all of the girls, and he rushed me along to decide on a song since I was running out of time before I was due up. I decided on one that had been stuck in my head recently. It was the kind of song that ripped your heart straight out of your chest and just made you feel. It had a slower beat, and I could imagine sliding down the pole to it.

  Oh my…I can’t believe I actually just had that thought.

  “’Breathe Me’ by Sia. Do you have that?” I asked DJ Samples and he pushed down the sunglasses he was wearing for whatever reason because it clearly wasn’t sunny inside.

  “Um…let me check.” He tapped on the screen of his monitor a few times, pressed his headphones to his ear, and then gave me a confused look. “I have it, but I don’t think it�
��s what you want. Why don’t you pick something a little more…upbeat?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m allowed to pick my own music, right?” He nodded his head. “Good, then that’s what I want. Thanks.”

  “Right. Well, if that’s what you want but I only have the mixed version. You’re about up, so get ready.”

  Okay. I could do it. I gave myself a little pep talk while also moving my body around in a crazy, little circle, loosening up my muscles and trying to figure out my plan of attack for the pole. I had a list of different moves Vanessa had taught me over the past couple of weeks and I was pretty confident in them. I didn’t know how I would do off the pole though. I guess it was kind of my crutch. At least the shots that I drank had kicked in, giving me a little bit of that warm fuzzy feeling, so I felt a little bit looser and carefree. That was a good thing.

  “Alrighty, Tink. Showtime.” DJ Samples picked up a microphone, ready to introduce me to the crowd, and I took a deep breath as I stepped forward, hoping that I didn’t look ridiculous in the little amount of clothing I had on. Or that I didn’t trip and fall, or have someone that I knew randomly show up on the only night I was on stage. Yeah, I wasn’t nervous at all.

  I gave DJ Samples a thumbs up and took another step forward, and then my feet were on the stage and I took a deep breath, trying to make myself believe that it was just like any other recital that I had performed in over the years.

  The music began to play and I started to dance across the stage, the lights slightly blinding me and the noise from the crowd overwhelming, but it seemed to quiet down a bit as I began. I moved to my tiptoes, a hard thing to do in heels but I still managed, doing a simple pirouette as I plied my arms, and then to an open turn, which landed me directly in front of the pole. I tuned everything out; I was in complete dance mode, something I learned to do after years of recitals when parents were busy snapping pictures, yelling their kid’s name while they were trying to perform. I guess it was a good tool to have, even now.

  I choreographed a piece along to the music as I went, and it was a powerful one that I poured everything into. I doubted anyone in the audience had any clue what the real message behind the dance was, but I didn’t care. Being able to put it all out onto the stage made me feel alive. I grabbed onto the pole, bending backward, before wrapping one leg around it, the music dropping down low at just the right part, making it more dramatic.

  Just as I was going to put some of Vanessa’s teachings to good use, I was dragged backward and off the stage. A chorus of boo’s sounded in my ears and I started to panic, looking around for a bouncer to come to rescue me from whoever had grabbed me up. However, when I spotted one they looked at me for a split second before turning in the opposite direction. What in the hell? Did Randy set me up or something? I twisted my head around, trying to see who had a hold of me, but it was impossible from the angle that I was at. The only thing of which I was certain, was that we were bounding down the hallway. Then I was set upright, a tight grip around my wrist and lips brushing against my ear as a hoarse voice spoke into it quickly and furiously.

  “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I turned around, unsure if I should be happy that I wasn’t on the stage or wishing I was there. Instead , I was being glared at by Miller who still had a tight grip around my wrist even though we were in his office with the door shut. He was staring at me with hard eyes that were normally a nice warm, gooey brown that made my insides melt, but right now they looked dark and dangerous. I was pretty sure I’d rather be back on the stage.

  He took a step closer and I took a step back, and we continued like that, a dance of our own being performed, until I was pressed against the door. Then his mouth slammed against mine and I gasped into his, completely caught by surprise.

  Not that I wasn’t arguing.

  Miller’s kiss was everything I’d fantasized and more. It was rough and demanding, yet sweet and gentle all at the same time. One hand fisted my hair, the other smoothing down my side, but all too soon he ripped his lips away from mine, leaving me panting for more.

  “WHAT WERE YOU doing out there?” I demanded.

  I couldn’t think straight when I dragged her off of the stage and into my office, which is probably why I ended up kissing the hell out of her, but I couldn’t say I regretted it. No, there was no way in hell I felt that way about it. Kissing Monroe was like something I’d never experienced before, and actually calmed me down about a bit, a serene feeling washing over me when her lips pressed against mine and she opened her mouth willingly so I could finally taste her.

  “I was planning on this being my only time,” she answered quietly, snapping my attention away from thoughts about the kiss. “Randy kind of sprang it on me, and I just figured, why not. It’s not like I was naked—”

  “Just stop.” I held up a hand to interrupt her, letting go of her wrist, and I felt like an asshole when I watched her gingerly rub the sensitive skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I reached out to trace the inside of her wrist with my thumb, not failing to notice the goosebumps breaking out all over her skin. I was glad to see that I seemed to have the same effect on her that she did me.

  “I didn’t like seeing you on that stage. You should’ve never been up there.”

  She let out a small sigh, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, which only caused the scrap of material she had on to shift slightly and give me even more of an eyeful. I certainly didn’t mind. Not to mention the skirt thing that she was wearing. I’d seen what was going on behind it and my mouth was still watering from that glimpse of her rounded ass, the creamy skin contrasting sharply against the black material. I shook my head, trying to concentrate on what I was trying to get out.

  “I think you should just head home for the night. You’re officially done at Pure now.”

  “Fine,” she huffed, moving her arms to place her hands on her hips. “But don’t think you can just go dragging me around and demanding I don’t do things simply because you don’t like them. That’s not how you treat people, Miller. You are not a caveman.” She stomped her heeled foot and I smirked, but the look was quickly wiped off my face once she continued on. “Do you know what I’ve been put through here? First, I have to deal with the lovely Bianca, who is the biggest bitch with a capital B that I’ve ever met in my life. She tried to make my life a living hell every night that I worked, but I put a smile on my face and dealt with it. Then Randy, don’t even get me started on him. Do you even know what’s going on at your own business? I really hope you don’t, because I don’t think you’re that kind of guy, but something really needs to be done about it. You’re lucky some undercover cop hasn’t nailed you yet.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Back up a step.” I closed the gap between us and grabbed both of her flailing hands, bringing them to a stop at her sides, but didn’t let go. “What in the hell are you talking about with Randy?”

  “Oh. So, you don’t know.” She exhaled a breath, looking relieved that I was clueless about whatever she was talking about. I’d sensed that something was going on with Randy but I wasn’t sure what and planned on getting to the bottom of it soon. Seemed I was going to hear about it a lot sooner. “Well…he took me into a room one night, basically locking me in there, and there was this VIP customer, I guess. Said he wanted a private show and if things went further…well, you know.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked in a low voice, my body starting to shake from the fire that was building in me at the thought of what Randy had done to Monroe. What if she had ended up with an asshole that didn’t take no for an answer? I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities, which only caused the anger to build even more. “He did that to you? I knew something was going on, but I never expected that. Damnit.” I let go of Monroe’s hands because I needed to funnel some of the rage out of me, and my fist found the first thing it could connect with. Some of the drywall cracked when my knuckles pounded into it, but I felt myself slight
ly calming down as I shook my throbbing hand and squeezed my eyes shut, counting in my head.

  “What are you doing?” Monroe asked cautiously. “Are you okay?” She placed her hand on my back and some of the tension released at her touch. She kept it there, rubbing in small circles.

  “I was counting.”

  “Counting?”

  “I don’t have the best temper, something I think I probably owe to my dad. I figured out counting helps. I had to do it all the time when I was a kid after I kept getting into loads of trouble, acting out nonstop, and Mamaw took me to see someone about it.”

  “You were a troublemaker? I just can’t picture that.”

  “Yup.” I blew out a breath. “Randy doing that behind my back pisses me off, but the fact that he put you in that situation….” I trailed off, shaking my head and surprising the hell out of both of us when I turned around and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her tight against my chest and burying my nose in her hair. She relaxed into me, and I loved the feeling of her in my arms, so I didn’t let go. “I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”

  We stayed like that for what felt like an hour; her ear pressed against my chest, my face buried in her hair. I didn’t want it to end but I knew it had to and I groaned when she moved away.

  “There’s more,” she whispered, and then proceeded to tell me all about what she’d witnessed, and everything that she knew. She even tried to defend Randy, saying she wasn’t a hundred percent certain he was involved. But it didn’t matter, I knew.

  “I need you to leave now. I have to handle Randy. Maybe we can pick up where we left off on Monday, figure this out.” Her lips turned down and I could tell that she was disappointed.