Chapter 2 The Mysterious Man in the Tuxedo

She closed her eyes nervously again, her chest going up and down as she took deep breaths. Even though she had done it twice on two nights, she was not getting better at it.

She had taken dance classes while in college and was a good dancer quite alright, but it was just ballet and break dance she knew. This was an entirely different dance, one she never thought she would do. It was also an entirely different audience. She would not be dancing in a leotard in the arms of a nice gentleman. Instead, she was going to be dancing on poles, without clothes, in front of men old enough to be her father.

She felt her stomach churn and for a split second, she thought she was going to throw sick on the porcelain floor of the strippers' dressing room.

"Why aren't you ready?" Jessica, one of the twenty something strippers who spent their nights pleasing men in Red, the club, asked Frankie as she stepped in, snapping her out of her reverie. She was the most revered among them.

There was no hierarchy in the club among the strippers, but somehow, the other dancers had an unspoken respect towards Jessica. She was the only one who was bold enough to talk to their supervisor.

"And Old Robin would be here anytime soon," she added, her voice almost oozing worry.

"I don't know. I'm almost...ready," Frankie said and pulled down at the edges of her skimpy gown again.

"Aw, babe," Jessica cooed. "I know you're uncomfortable."

"The shoes yesterday were also too high," she complained. "I can't even keep my balance on it while standing, let alone when I'm walking...or dancing."

Look, darling Frankie," Jessica said sweetly again. "I know you don't want to be in this kind of business – none of the girls here want it – but you just got to come to terms with it. You just have to accept fate, move on and do your best to impress Big Cat."

Frankie curled her lips.

"Now, why don't you bring your cute self into this chair and lemme give you some makeup," Jessica said.

Frankie obeyed meekly and sat on the comfy stool in front of the mirror.

Five minutes and she was done.

"You're the best," Frankie complimented.

Jessica pulled out a pair of high-heeled stilettos.

"These shoes again," Frankie complained.

"Aw, sweety. That's how it was for me also. It won't be comfortable the first times, but you'll get used to it," Jessica cooed.

"Ugh," Frankie grimaced. "God forbid. I'll never be like you," she said. "I'll raise the money I need soon and be free of this stupid job."

An hurt look crept into Jessica's eyes but she waved the feeling away.

Frankie noticed that she must have offended Jessica and made to apologise.

Suddenly, the door opened and two other ladies strolled in, all dolled up, wearing heavy makeup, expensive wigs, tiny tight glittery gowns with sequins that

Claire and Jacqueline.

They were the sassiest dancers in the club.

"Have you not dressed yet?" Claire asked, eyeing Frankie distastefully.

"As you can see we're almost done," Jessica said and helped Frankie get to her feet.

"I don't know how she even got here," Jacqueline sneered. "She's always doing like she's some God damn saint."

"What are you two doing here?" he bawled. "Who will entertain the men in the VIP rooms?"

Jacqueline and Claire scurried away. Then Old Robin faced Frankie.

"The big boss is here today, and there must be no sloppy performances or you'll have yourself to blame," he said.

"I'm sure Frankie will do better today, Rob," Jessica said.

Frankie looked at her, her eyes holding an unspoken gratitude. She wondered what she would have done without Jessica.

Old Robin snorted and walked out of the room. "Be quick," he said before he left.

"

"Just calm your nerves and flow along with the beats," she said.

"Thank you," Frankie said gratefully. Jessica smiled sweetly and squeezed her palm softly.

Frankie took a deep breath and stepped into the stage from the backstage.

Loud, deafening music blaring out from hidden speakers in every corner of the room hit her almost immediately. The music was so loud she could feel the bass in her bones.

She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, trying to assuage the fears that consumed her like an inferno as she waited for the red curtains to fall, clenching and unclenching her fists anxiously.

She heard the DJ change the upbeat song into a slow, solemn blue and braced herself for the task ahead. She took a deep breath and waited.

The curtains slid open suddenly and she was in front of many men.

They ogled her exposed breasts and

The room had the combined stench of sweat and alcohol and urine and vomit.

The men hurled lewd orders at her and comments hit her from different parts of the room.

"Such a cute ass!"

"I could eat your face!"

"

Frankie danced slowly, swinging her hips and

She remembered what Jessica had told her on her first day here.

"When dancing, always keep your head high. Pretend to enjoy it even if you don't," she said.

She raised her head confidently.

A man stood at the gallery. He stood out from among the other revelers. While the other men around him yelled lewd jokes and drooled at the sight of Frankie's exposed breasts and booty, he stood, his eyes expressionless.

When she looked up, their eyes locked. Then his lips spread in a mysterious smile. He stared at her coldly for a moment until she averted her eyes.

She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as he retreated into the darkness of the room. A large brawny man in a tight black vest, baggy pants and a black durag followed him. His bodyguard.

Frankie struggled to concentrate. Her heart was troubled and her mind full with questions.

Why was he staring at her like that?

Who was he?

What did the smile mean?

Just as the song ended, she was sprayed with money. The men threw the crisp hundred dollar bills at her like they were dry leaves picked from the ground and they floated in the air around her like a tornado.

"You did so great," Jessica told her.

Frankie mumbled a low "thank you".

"But next time, try to show more than just breasts and the surface of your pussy. Do a split or something. Anything that will make them see into your pussy," Old Robin chimed in sourly as he sauntered in.

He produced a thick roll of bills and proceeded to count it. Frankie's hands itched with anticipation as he counted the money. He took out a percentage and handed it over.

She collected the money gratefully and counted it.

Two hundred dollars.

That was minus the money she had managed to snag during the bill-nado that came after her dance and the money the VIP men at the front seats had stuffed into her bra.

When she counted all the money, it amounted to a thousand and five hundred dollars. That meant she had almost six hundred thousand dollars.

She had sold some of their properties, broken her savings to raise a hundred thousand dollars in the debt.

Franklin welcomed her with a smile when she returned.

"How was work?" he asked her.

"Cool," she said tiredly.

"I see what you are doing, sis. And I wonder if I can help you work also. You know, just so we can make extra money," he suggested.

"No," Frankie snapped quickly.

"Why?" he asked with hurt in his voice.

Frankie sighed and thought of something to say in response.

"The place I work, only girls are accepted there," she told her brother.

That was a lie. There were male dancers in Red who entertained gay men in another section of the club. Infact, they were paid better than the girls, but she would not let her brother to be subjected to such degradation. She could not imagine him having his ass oiled with baby oil and lubricant and being spritzed by semen.

They retired to bed and in no time, Franklin's loud snore drifted from his room into hers.

As she laid on her bed, her mind wandered back to the club.

Who was the man in the tux gazing down at her from the gallery?