Business was unusually good for a Wednesday night, and it had been such a long shift already. Not many private dances, but the men were tipping well on stage for once. It was about halfway through, so for the last four hours I had been going onstage, doing my set, and then going around to thank each person who'd come up to put money in the little black garter on my thigh. There weren't many girls that night, so that meant that by the time I'd made my rounds and found a table to join, after a few minutes I was having to go right back up for another set. I didn't really mind, though. It staved off boredom and as I said, at least they were being generous onstage even if none of us had much time to hustle dances in between.
Around 11pm things finally started to slow down as the businessmen slowly trickled out the door, not wanting to be out so late that the next day at work was murder. I decided to take the opportunity to head to the back to spend a few minutes talking to my buddy on the security staff. They always had the best stories and I usually missed the good ones while I was running around during the course of the night. There was almost always some idiot who had bowed up at him to show off for the friends he was with, just drunk enough to think he could take the guy who was twice his size, or someone who had to be thrown out for trying to touch the girls even though he'd been warned repeatedly.
Touching was not allowed, either by the customers or the girls, a rule that I was generally pretty happy with. I wasn't there to get felt up by every random guy who thought a dollar or twenty bought him more access than it did. You kind of had to allow some touching, regardless of the rules, or you'd wind up in a situation you didn't want to be in. Most of the girls let the guys do things that were relatively harmless, like touching their stomachs or the outside of their legs, their arms, things like that, because if you were too strict about it then the guy was more likely to make a sudden movement and go straight for the goods, to grab your breast or try to force a hand into your G-string. If you tolerated the more innocuous things, they'd either be content with that and behave, or they'd slowly try to creep towards the more interesting parts hoping you wouldn't notice, giving you ample time to catch on and gently guide their hands away from more intimate areas before they ever got there.
I was almost up to my friend at the back of the club when I felt a hand on my arm, like someone had caught up to me from behind. It was one of the customers I'd seen over by the pool tables earlier, but who hadn't come up to my stage as far as I remembered. I'd been hoping he would, he stood out, but I just figured maybe I wasn't his type or he didn't like to be in front of everyone else. Some of them were shy like that and preferred to tip more discreetly. When he never came up I sort of forgot about him and moved on, but apparently he'd noticed me too.
He didn't even introduce himself, just half smiled and asked if I had time to do a dance. "Absolutely, let's go", I said, and took his arm to steer him towards the room with the private booths. Talking to my friend would have to wait. Off the bat, I was nervous. He was even more attractive up close, tall and tanned, with thick dark hair. To this day I even still remember what he was wearing-- a dark burgundy professional looking button-down shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes, like he'd come to the club straight from the office.
I also remember he barely spoke a word the entire time, just sat there in the chair across from mine as we waited for the next song to start, outwardly looking totally relaxed except for the burning I could see in his eyes. I finally gave up awkwardly trying to make conversation. Clearly he wasn't interested in small talk, but somehow the silence made him even hotter, more anonymous. I could feel heat rising in my face and my nipples hardening under my thin, stretchy red dress. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I wondered, slightly annoyed with myself. "He's a customer, off-limits. You're supposed to be turning him on, not the other way around. Stop it!"
But it didn't stop. I never did figure out what it was that got to me so badly about him. Yes, he was attractive, but not in a drop-dead gorgeous sort of way. Maybe it was one of those rare instances of just pure, raw sexual chemistry where something primal in him was speaking to something primal in me, a classic case of lust at first sight, I don't know, but there was something about this guy that pushed all my buttons in a way that NEVER happened at work. I could have barely told you what most of the guys I danced for looked like most of the time, and while I faked engagement really well and gave good dances, mentally I was almost always checked out, absently thinking about what I needed to pick up from the store on the way home or just anxious to get back and find out what happened next in whatever book I was reading at the time, my mind going in a hundred random directions while my body was on autopilot going through the motions. I was certainly not fighting the urge to let those large, strong looking hands wander wherever they wanted once the music started. Good God, this was ridiculous. "I shouldn't BE nervous.", I thought. "I've been doing this for seven years, and here I am practically shaking like a newbie. Way to be professional, Ana."
