Black Romance - 11 He's Back

The music started to pound through the speakers, making my muscles shake in surprise. Taking in a deep breath, I slipped my feet into my heels and got ready to do what I had been trained to do.

Make money, take money, and not think about how I was getting it.

Adjusting my skirt, I took my place behind the curtain, waiting for my turn.

The lights dimmed, the music slowly fading away as the DJ changed the record. Thick bass created a wave of prickles across my skin as my song came on, signaling I was up.

Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes, gently shaking my hands at my sides and forcing myself to forget all about who I was and what I was about to do.

You’re not this person, it’s just an act. You’re better than this, you know you are.

Tickling my fingers across the velvet curtain, I spread both sheets wide, batting my lashes as all the men began to hoot. The tip of my toe pressed out, leading my long leg into view. I felt the curtain as it slipped across my skin, sealing my entrance to the stage.

Letting the music consume me, I rocked my body, moving to the beat and working my way over to the pole. The room was filled with men, all of them peering up at me, drool almost pouring out of their mouths.

I ignored them, same as always, imagining that I was on Broadway, taking part in a musical. The men were an audience of hundreds, the song my shining moment for the world to embrace me.

Looking out past the dogs at the base of the stage, I kept my eyes on the background, doing my best to stay focused on my daydream. Bills were flying past my feet, sliding across the glossy wood floor. The yelling was getting louder and louder, drowning out the voices inside my head.

Closing my eyes, my hand gripped the pole, holding on tight as I swung around. Curling my leg, I dropped my head back, letting my braid sweep across the floor.

Opening my eyes, everything changed. My heart jumped into my throat, sweat began to bead up on the back of my neck, my palms became clammy, causing me to slip on the pole.

Snapping my back straight, I whipped my head over my shoulder and glared at the last seat at the end of the stage.

He’s back. He’s here again.

The man that had gotten me into trouble was sitting right at the front of the stage, his hands folded against his chest as his eyes bore a hole right through me.

I could feel his glare, the way it shifted around my body as I stood like a statue, completely thrown off by his presence.

The corner of his lip lifted into a slight smirk as I paused my dance, his smile a knowing sign he was well aware that he was the reason for my sudden falter.

The other men around me began to bark to keep going, but I couldn’t. Flaring my nostrils, I pursed my lips, taking in long deep pulls of stuffy club air.

Why is he here? Why did he have to come back?

The man rolled a single finger, his gesture telling me to finish what I started. But I didn’t want to, I wanted off that stage. I wasn’t going to dance for him.

Turning quickly on my heels, I left the bills that had accumulated and stormed off the stage. Throwing the curtains aside, I stumbled down the steps, almost tripping and falling on my face.

Grabbing a wood beam, I caught myself, trying to slow down the panicked sensation that was flowing through my veins. I was struggling to breathe, the air too dense to seep into my lungs, as a soft wheeze filled the space between my ears.

Throwing a hand to my chest, I took in slow breaths through my nose and blew out through my mouth. I felt the eyes of the other girls around me, they were all staring at me, curiosity and a hint of fear on their faces.

They were worried about what happened, they were concerned about me, they were also terrified about what Virgo would do to me for leaving the job early.

And yet no one came to my side to see if I was alright.

“What’s this? You’re not done, get back out there, Berlin!” Vinchezo demanded, his feet pounding over in my direction. “You don’t stop, no one stops in the middle of a show.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hand. “I just. . .” Pausing, I tried to come up with a good excuse for what I had done. “I just got my period, Vin. Virgo wouldn’t want me bleeding out on the stage, would he? You know how he feels about that shit.”

I’m not going back into the ditch for that man.

Vinchezo ran a hand through his hair as his lids shot open. His expression changed from anger to discomfort. I don’t think there’s a guy in this world that doesn’t feel awkward when a girl brings up her monthly visitor.

Even Virgo was uncomfortable. I was eleven when I got my period, and it was the only time I had seen him clam up and not know what to say or do. So he sent one of his girls down with everything I would need and they showed me what to do.

Grunting, his fingers scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Alright, go take care of that and get right back out there.”

Nodding, I braided my fingers together and scurried into the bathroom backstage. My hope was that by the time I came back out, another girl would be up there and I could have a little time to relax.