There are several women in the dressing room scattered about. Looking around she begins to notice their bodies and starts comparing herself to them, assessing whether or not she measures up against the “brick house” undressing in the corner or the top model wannabe retouching her nail polish. Some are laughing, others are counting money, another sits quietly in a chair massaging her feet from what appears to be a rough night. Belinda flicks her cigarette into an astray near her dressing station and kicks her feet up on the chair. Above it was a huge mirror with large lights all around and a name in big, glittery words with fancy lettering that read, “Babygirl”.
“You hope I stay that way? What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what, you ask too many damn questions girl. You see that camera up there?” Belinda points to a corner in the dressing room above the long line of lockers drilled into the wall. “Richie is watching you. Just remember, he is always watching you, don’t waste any of his time, you hear me?”
Devyn looks up feeling a slight bit of fear and of what, she really isn’t sure, she runs the brush over her long flowing hair trying to hide her insecurities and responds lightly, “Yeah, I hear you.”
“Oh yeah, I meant to tell you, don’t call me by my real name here, use this name. That’s my stage name,” she says as she runs her hand underneath the sign like a Price is Right model before striking a pose. “These niggas get to thinking they know you around here then they don’t wanna pay you no money, wanna to take you out on dates and follow your ass home and shit. This here is strictly business, nothing personal. You feel me?”
“Got it,” Devyn nods; amused by her “cool”.
“Okay Sugar, I’m gonna leave you be so you can go ahead and get yourself ready. I have some business to tend to,” Belinda says as she fixes her breast in her sheer, red, dress.
She was of light complexion, with hazel eyes, tall and petite, very beautiful with hair that looked as if it were streaked with gold. As she did her belly dance in the mirror, she looked immaculate from her head to her feet with carefully French manicured nails and toes wearing diamond rings with earrings to match. Sugar studied Babygirl intensely as she watched her walk out of the room singing; and when she turned the corner Sugar’s legs began to wobble as she fell into the chair behind her. She pulled some items out of her bag. Holding the outfit in her hands, feeling the shinny material on her fingertips, she gently closed her eyes and began wondering why she was there but she knew she had no other choice. This was not about her and she was no longer in control. Things had become harder than she could imagine. Tears began to swell up in her eyes as she thought about the world that was crumbling around her, biting her bottom lip, she fought back the urge to run and swallowed her pride, blinking away the wetness that was about to overflow.
“Don’t be scared now,” the taunt of an unknown woman rings in her ears. Laughter rang out behind her as the girls who were counting money were now focusing their attention on the new girl. Smelling the fear on her, they smacked their lips and rolled their eyes, a script they knew all too well when a new face appeared in the club looking to take dibs in on their money.
“She won’t last 30 minutes up there, Tasty what you think?” Chanel says hovering over Sugar with a sly grin while applying her lipstick in the mirror.
“Chanel, you are always bothering people, leave the poor girl alone, you see she’s shaking like a leaf. I don’t know why Babygirl left her down here like that.” Tasty says trying to be the voice of wisdom and reason amongst them.
The other girls fall over each other in tears as they head back to work hoping their intimidation worked. They all knew how hard it would be trying to make money when there was a new attraction in the building.
Sugar takes her time evaluating herself in the mirror occasionally looking up at the camera wondering if she is being watched. After carefully placing her other clothes back into her roller backpack, she heads up the stairs back into the club. She passes the other dancers who stop to look at her as she makes her way through the crowd of gentlemen who recognize her from the outside. A stripper dangles upside down from a pole, breast exposed and men scattered bills around the stage, another reaches up and places money in her garter running his hand down her thigh. She slides down slowly while onlookers gaze at her hoping to make eye contact. She rolls onto her stomach and crawls over to a man standing with money hanging from his mouth, holding a glass of cognac in his hand he waits patiently and she rises to her knees seductively removing the money from his mouth with her teeth. The lights dim and she receives an applause as she gathers her bills from the floor placing some into her garter belt and others she held in her hands along with the clothing she removed during her dance.
Across the room Babygirl nods in recognition with a look on her face that says she’s impressed with how well Sugar “cleans up”. She points to the stage suggesting that it is now Sugar’s turn to perform.
Stomach tight, Sugar makes her way over to the stage which is lit with what seemed to be a million lights fixated on the inner makings of her being. The shimmering gold halter and matching mini-skirt could no longer separate her from them, it was time to show and prove. Underneath she wore a black thong that seemed so delicate and sensual the night before when she stretched it across her bed admiring the pretty ties along the side. Tonight it was now fulfilling its purpose with its new companion, a black garter belt nice and snug around her right thigh. She walked nervously in those dainty black heels as the pain had already begun to set in from all of the standing she had done on the sidelines in preparation. She managed a jagged smile for the onlookers.
“All this and I haven't even made the upgrade to the almighty stiletto pump.” She mumbled to herself looking down at her block shaped heels before glancing attentively at the other women who seemed to glide on by her with ease in shoes she was not yet prepared to fill.
“Why is she wearing those shoes? She looks like she never stripped a day in her life,” Chanel says laughing as she spins around on her barstool, hoping Babygirl overhears her sarcasm.
“Fucking hater,” Babygirl uttered as she grabs her clutch off of the bar and makes her way to a lonely gentleman sipping a Heineken nearby.
“Oooooh, you cold as ice, hahaha,” Chanel mocks making a funny reference to Rick James. The customers within listening distance smile and chuckle.
Out blasts her cue and like a sheep amongst wolves, she proceeded up the steps leading to the center stage…..
Earning every dollar was a conquest. Gyrating and shaking her ass on all fours, she exposed herself candidly, opening her legs her scent went into the air and men flocked to her like dogs in heat. There were two large gold metal poles on one end of the stage with a runway leading to another at the end. Sugar carefully made her way to each one unrehearsed or choreographed, only equipped with the mental notes she took of the professionals before her. Hands accompanied with dollars found themselves in places only lovers knew drenching the seat of her panties with the scent of nicotine, beer and cognac. Surrounded by mirrors, Sugar took a glimpse at the woman standing there naked and felt empowered. Songs seemed to have lasted forever as the men sat front and center around the stage; she let them dominate her with the hopes of a bright financial future. She quickly became known as the one with the big titties, enormous jugs, top heavy, advertising breasts that would some day nurse nations. Knees weakening, calves trembling, and skin glistening, she left the stage heavily fatigued leaving her mark forever implanted in her soul.
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