While I had never danced for a private event before, I knew what they entailed. I heard other dancers talk about how they went, and within the first hour of being one of the dancers exclusively working the VIP party in the back, I saw how similar and different it was from my usual night on the stage.
Back here, the ratio was adjusted. Fewer men and guests were available to cater to, so private lap dances were an easy way to make more bang for the buck. Out on the stage for all of Stanley’s, it was one dancer for many men. In these dimly lit and posh rooms for the VIP guests, it was more like one dancer per every two or three men. Instantly, I saw how much more money I could take home, and that almost made me think it was worth it.
But the one huge difference I tried my best to acclimate to was how the in-house rules for the big stage of the club were disregarded back here.
I am not whoring myself out tonight.
A man took his dick out of his pants as I danced on the pole in front of him.
Do not even think about touching me with that thing.
Right here in the middle of the party, he masturbated to my gyrating and moving along the pole within his reach.
I swear to any god that’s out there, I will scream if you grab me.
Bouncers handled the freaks out in the club. Whipping out dicks just wasn’t allowed, and while some dancers and bouncers had an understanding that some groping was tolerable, it was lawless back here.
I nearly lost my smile and dropped my customer service mask when I spotted a guest slapping Nevaeh’s ass over in another seating area. I heard the impact of flesh-on-flesh and I instantly worried. But as I glimpsed her over there with the two Mafia men in the Gemini family, she was all into it. Maybe Nicky beating her as a punishment was becoming a turn-on for her now because she looked like she was into it. All of us faked pleasure and desire. It was part of the job. But she didn’t seem to be playacting.
What the fuck?
I couldn’t believe she’d lower her guard.
No matter where I looked, I saw danger. Every man in here was viewing me not as a dancer to admire and not touch, but a private whore to use as he pleased. Each time a dancer was led toward a private room at a guest’s request, my stomach tensed with dread.
Out on the main floor of Stanley’s, we could reject requests for private dances.
Back here in the VIP party, it seemed more like it was an expectation. Bouncers didn’t referee here. The Mafia men’s soldiers were the ones in charge, and I had yet to see any dancer turn down a private dance.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Why? Why did I have to cave and tell her I’d do this tonight?
When I danced and stayed on stage, the balance of power was clear. For the usual audience, I was the one with all the power. I made all the men look at me and they waved and tossed their money to me.
That was off-kilter for the VIPs. I didn’t feel like an entertainer, but prey. Predatory gazes tracked me everywhere, and I did my best not to panic that I’d be forced into an orgy or taken away as a private sex slave after this.
Why?
Why the hell did I ever tell her I’d do this?
Trying to move between one low-seating area to another—hoping that staying mobile would keep me safer—I tried to find Nevaeh again.
I’d never consider her a friend after this. I couldn’t. No friend would coax another into subjecting herself to being preyed on like this. There was no escape. All these guests operated under their own philosophies of law and order, and I had zero protections. A bouncer wouldn’t come and tell this old geezer to keep his hands off me. No managers would kick a guest out for fucking his hand right in front of me.
Oh, fuck.
I blinked once at the sight of Nevaeh sucking a guest’s dick. Right out here. Not even in a private room!
You lied.
She didn’t have my back. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be on her back, right out here in the open where the private rooms equaled a whorehouse for VIP guests with the right price.
I’d only agreed to come here if we’d stick together, but all night long, she’d left me to fend for myself. Facing drunk, high, and otherwise messed-up men was nothing new. I was an experienced stripper and dancer and before tonight, I could’ve said I’d seen it all.
“Hey, over here.”
I cringed inside as I turned toward the man’s voice.
A tall man stood at a table with a couple of others seated at either side of him. Greasy-looking with too much sweat on his brow and a hazy stare, he seemed to be two seconds from passing out. Blood trickled from a needle point at the hollow of his elbow.
Oh, fuck. No, no, no.
I didn’t do drugs. Nothing hard. Nothing minor, either. My life was already hellish enough without the fear of being intoxicated mixed in.
“Yeah, you, Blondie.” He stepped forward to summon me closer, holding his hand up and beckoning me to come with a crook of his finger. The instant he left the support of the column behind him, though, he nearly fell flat. Shaking his head and retreating to lean again, he smiled and laughed. “Here. Now.”
I froze. Mentally, I panicked and wasn’t sure how to ease out of this situation. He hadn’t said what he wanted. It could be that he merely wished for a lap dance once he sat, but something in his gaze warned me to stay away.
Swaying to the music so I wouldn’t be singled out for losing “character”, which was an order so long as I was on the clock, I drew closer but out of their reach. One of the men in a chair swiped his hand out for me anyway, and I used the change in tempo of the music to dodge him.
“Closer, bitch. My friend here has been waiting for a blonde…” The man who was so wasted he could barely stand gestured for me to come to his buddy. Sure enough, he had his dick out of his pants. He stroked it, disregarding the blisters of pus on its head.
I recoiled, just catching myself from grimacing at the sight of his infected dick.
Hell to the fucking no.
I wasn’t touching that thing. I wasn’t even going to breathe the same air as them. Keeping my distance as the lights flickered and strobed overhead, I saw how these three were even more unkempt and grosser than the other VIPs.
No way was I getting a disease from them.
“Suck him,” the high man ordered. “So he can fuck you.”
The other man seated to his left tugged his dick out of his pants.
If I had known these VIP events were excuses for strippers to earn extra by being whores, I never would’ve agreed.
Without committing, and moving to the music, I slipped away. Hoping they were so wasted and out of their minds from the drugs and alcohol that they wouldn’t be able to address me again, I eased through the crowd.
Maybe the bartender would help? If they didn’t, they’d just be witnesses to this illegal shit.
No bouncers were back here. I had yet to see a manager. They’d be watching all the action through cameras hidden throughout the rooms, but that wasn’t to ensure my safety as an employee. Once again, I tried to stay brave with the concept that I was all on my own.
Before I reached the bar, I turned and caught sight of Nevaeh sucking another man’s dick. This time, she let another dancer finger fuck her too, all so more men could cheer them on.
She knew.
She had to have had an idea that it was like this back here, and she was all for it, happily participating.
How could you, Nevaeh?
When I looked away, I spotted that trio of wasted men beelining for me.
Fuck!
All these VIPs were too much to handle, but I was not getting involved with those three who wanted a blonde.
How could you set me up to deal with this, Nevaeh?
How could you? I wanted to scream it as she carried on.
One more glance over my shoulder showed those three men after me. They’d locked in to target me. Only me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Trying to avoid being stuck in one place, I avoided panicking and focused on staying mobile.
No, how could you?
If I weren’t so on edge and doing my best to lose those three creeps who were following me, I would’ve berated myself for ever agreeing to this. I knew better, dammit. And now… I was stuck. I felt betrayed by Nevaeh who so quickly forgot about having my back.
That’s what I get for trusting her. For trusting anyone.
All my life, I’d had to look out for myself. No one else would do that job. But as I spotted some of the more “normal-looking” Mafia members who weren’t so crude as to whip their dicks out like this were a frat house, I wished I could have a strong, distinguished man like them. Someone muscled and fierce. Someone to lean on—just once. A person who’d want to protect me, not use me.
Something had to separate these guests. They all enjoyed the smell of sex in the air and eyed all of us dancers with a similar lust burning in their eyes, but not all of them were as possessed with fucking us.
That was how desperate I felt. That was how irrational I was becoming. As the three men who’d targeted me cornered me, I knew I was really reaching for the impossible to wish for a strong man to protect me. For someone rough and fearsome to give a shit about me.
I’d only ever had myself to count on.
And as I tripped on a dropped beer bottle and realized I was well and truly fucked, cornered near the hallway that led to the private rooms, I ground my teeth and knew that was how it would always be.
Alone. And defenseless to the misery and monsters in this world.
I refused to show these three guests an ounce of fear, but as they taunted me and closed in on me, I held my breath and frantically tried to think of a way out of here.
