When a girl worked as a stripper, the only important part about her wardrobe was that it came off easily.
Once that was finished, I grabbed a simple cotton dress, a pair of panties, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I felt gross after doing laundry and chores all day. Hopefully a cold shower would freshen me up a bit and get me ready for tonight.
I wasn’t new to being a stripper. I’d been taking off my clothes for money for a couple years now. Even still, sometimes the fact that this was my life still shocked the hell out of me.
How did I get here?
It was a question I asked myself a million times.
The answer was always the same.
Him.
I closed my eyes as I rinsed the sudsy shampoo out of my water-drenched locks. It was easy to blame someone else for the choices I’d made, but I knew deep down I was more responsible than anyone for being where I was today.
It wasn’t a good feeling, to know I’d done so many things wrong, to think of myself as a weak and naïve person.
Not anymore.
I might have made a couple wrong turns on the road of life, but I was pulling a u-ey and heading in the direction I really wanted to go.
I had this apartment with Harlow, a place of our own. It was in a good complex, the neighbors weren’t drug addicts, and the streets weren’t full of people looking to score. Harlow was a real friend, not just someone who wanted something.
I might still be a stripper, but the truth was I wouldn’t be able to make the kind of money I made on a nightly basis doing anything else. I wasn’t going to have to strip forever. Soon, I would have more than enough money saved for the program at the technical college I’d been researching. Soon, the only man who would see me without my clothes would be a man I would choose.
Not that I was going to be choosing any man in the next century.
I needed a man like I needed a third nipple.
Which was not at all.
I turned around, letting the full spray of the water hit my shoulders and chest. It felt good, like a gentle warm massage, and I groaned, letting the water pound away some of the soreness in my muscles.
I’d been working some extra shifts at the club, dancing and hefting trays of drinks more often. Lately, I felt this inner sense of urgency, something inside whispering that I needed to move on, that it was time for a change.
But before I could change, I needed enough money to pay for at least a couple semesters at school. I was getting there, and soon I would be able to quit.
A little pang of sadness hit me as I reached for my loofah and body wash. True, I didn’t like stripping. And true, I didn’t want or need a man.
What about Adam? the naughty voice inside me taunted.
I might have a negative stance on getting involved with men these days, but it seemed he was the exception to that rule. However, just because I might have a small crush on him didn’t mean I had to act on it.
Adam was the owner of the Mad Hatter, and that made him my boss. And him being my boss wasn’t the only reason he was off-limits. I had several reasons for that.
But it wasn’t those reasons that were clouding my mind right now. No, what was clouding my thoughts was the image of his wide shoulders filling out a dress shirt. The way he spoke gruffly to everyone, trying to hide the soft spot I knew he had just beneath his ribs.
I dragged the loofah down over my hip and across my thigh, imagining what it would be like for him to touch me there. For one long moment, I let myself wonder if his fingers would glide over my skin as readily as this soap.
I wasn’t a virgin. And yeah, I took my clothes off for money, but locked away in my most private depths was a little piece of the girl I was in high school. The innocent girl who wanted to feel treasured. Who wanted to feel like she was someone’s entire world.
Yeah, I knew it was just a schoolgirl’s dream.
But it didn’t stop me from occasionally letting that part of me out and imagining what it would be like in the arms of a man who loved me more than anything.
That man never used to have a face. He was more of a feeling, more of a dream than anything. But slowly that started to change. Slowly, the man I sometimes longed for became a little clearer in my head.
Sometimes he looked just like Adam.
My eyes shot open and I pulled the loofah away from my body. My skin tingled, and I abruptly turned the water to a shockingly cold temp. I was not going to think about Adam while I washed.
Totally disgusted with myself, I shut off the water and grabbed a towel. My long, deep-brown (the richness in the color courtesy of a box) hair was stick straight no matter how I blow-dried it, so after combing it out, I blasted it with the heat until it hung down my back with the sleekness most women had to pay for with products and blow-outs.
I ran a small flat iron over the straight cut of bangs that were just shy of falling into my eyes and pulled on my panties and a light colored cotton dress. Usually, I wore yoga pants and a T-shirt to work, but it was just too hot today.
I put on the bare minimum of makeup (I would just add more for the stage at work), popped in my violet-colored contacts, and left the bathroom.
Harlow was in the kitchen when I came out, tossing my duffle bag on the end of the sofa. “Hey,” I said. “How was work?”
Harlow worked harder than most people I knew. She was determined to achieve her goals no matter how much she had to try. I really admired that about her, and she inspired me to go after what I really wanted in life too.
Harlow shrugged. “It’s a job.” She made a face, and I laughed.
“The snow cone cart is going to be closing up for the season soon, isn’t it?” I asked. She was a snow cone vendor at Broadway at the Beach in addition to waiting tables at the Mad Hatter. She started out stripping, but she hated it, and Adam went against his usual policy that all the girls strip and wait tables and let her stay on as a waitress.
She nodded. “Yeah, in just a couple weeks, at the end of October.”
October might seem late for the season, but here in Myrtle Beach, it was still warm and tourists were still vacationing.
“Are you going to look for something else?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet. With my class schedule, I don’t know if I will have time.”
Yet another reason I was sticking with stripping. I made a lot of money and the hours were at night, so when I did go to college, I could do both and not have to worry about juggling. I would be sleep-deprived, but it was a small price to pay for bettering my life.
My cell began to ring on the counter. I glanced at it dubiously, making no move to answer it.