Monica was in good shape and athletic, but she'd never had an affinity for dancing. She just didn't have a natural sense of rhythm, and expressing herself with her body seemed... unnatural. Combined with the fact that she was shy about putting her insane body on display, she was immediately met with a steep learning curve. But Monica and the women around her quickly realized she had an aptitude for stripping. Just the slightest amount of training worked wonders. At the time, even though she came to this occupation reluctantly, she was eager to please, eager to do the job well, and once she dedicated herself to improving her skills, she became incredible. She quickly learned to work the pole like she'd been doing it for years. Her athletic nature helped as she spun and climbed up the pole, hanging upside down with her legs locked around it, writhing and thrusting against it like a cowgirl on a bull. She learned how to highlight her body just right to earn the biggest response and the most money from the crowds that gathered to watch her, hooting and hollering and whistling through their teeth. She learned how to dance. She learned how to take off her clothes. She learned how to swallow her fears and bare herself for a crowd of drooling men.
Monica became the club's star dancer.
She had IT. She was a natural. She was a star. She could move. She could work it. And God knows she had the body for it. Even though she was a rookie, she soon eclipsed all the other girls, becoming the headliner over the course of the investigation. For Monica, who'd long denied the attention her body could earn her, keeping it under wraps and zipped up tight, there was something undeniably therapeutic about just baring it all and being rewarded for it, the crowd's rapturous response a thrill unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Also... working in a man's world as a woman, with her skills and accomplishments being constantly undermined... It was nice just for once to be rewarded for being good at something. Monica had never considered herself desperate for validation, but her stage act satisfied a deep craving, baring every inch of her naked flesh for a crowd of adoring men. Dressed up in slutty outfits, her face glowing with makeup, her hair expertly styled, being treated in almost worshipful fashion...she felt like a star.
Despite her meteoric rise, Monica found the other dancers to be warm, friendly, and welcoming. Instead of being jealous, these girls recognized her own undeniable star power, and they supported her rather than trying to tear her down. As strange as it was to admit, there was a sort of sisterhood that formed between herself and the other women that worked at that club. A bond. Monica had never had a lot of female friends, and she was surprised at how quickly she'd gained them by becoming this different version of herself. Even knowing it was based on a falsehood, a deception, a lie... it was just nice to feel so loved. Not just by her fellow dancers, but by the patrons.
She got damn fucking good at the job. She headlined on the main stage night after night, and she was soon the most requested girl for private dances, bringing in thousands of dollars in an average evening. For someone like her, who was shockingly inexperienced with the opposite sex, she was thrown into the deep end, but the whole experience was a crash-course that she adapted to quickly, learning how to tease men in close quarters, giving them just enough to drive them crazy and earn heaps of cash. She learned skills from her friends, weaponizing her body in all the best ways, putting men on edge, making them desperate for her. It wasn't hard.
Monica was making a stupid amount of money every shift she worked. She made more in a week at the club just in tips than she got on her monthly paycheck from the Port Metro Police Department. But instead of hoarding it for herself, she brought in some of the other girls alongside her to split the profits, wanting to pay it back to them for all their help. That way she didn't have to report the earnings to her captain. And in exchange, she got included in her new friends' social circles. She truly became one of them.
Earning her place and maintaining her cover required many moral compromises on her own part in order to fit in. She partied with her fellow dancers. She drank. She even did drugs in order to prove herself to them, and for someone who rarely partook in anything that prevented her from being clear-headed, it quickly became clear how people could get hooked on the stuff. The rush the cocaine gave her was like nothing else, and she couldn't deny that she'd never looked better during the period she was partying in this way, the drugs erasing any of the softer edges of her appearance, turning her body into a sleek, taut sports car, a high-end machine built solely for sex. Sometimes she even went on stage high, and it only amplified the rock-star feeling she got under the club lights, the pumping bass matching her pounding heartbeat. She felt like she was floating in those moments. She felt free.
But she never lost control. Not really.
She soon learned some of the other girls made extra money on the side, "partying" with patrons with fat wallets, the ones that were willing to pay top dollar. The pipeline from dancing to escort work was a natural part of their industry. Most of the girls accepted it. On this, Monica drew the line. She never slept with any man she danced for at the club, despite many, many offers. Not only was it a moral line she couldn't cross, but it felt best for business. If she was a top dancer, she couldn't just be giving it away at every opportunity. She had to retain some mystique. Some control.
The other girls looked out for her, supporting her choice not to dive all the way into this lifestyle, shielding her from the true dangers of the job. Not only from the leering men who frequented the club and continually tried to push their luck with her, but from the high-rollers as well. Rich, powerful men who'd swoop in, drop serious cash, and promise the world to a girl who caught their eye, attempting to lure naïve women into their web. They weren't like the patrons they "partied" with... those men they could handle just fine. But these high-rollers were a step beyond. Men who were beyond wealthy, who could get whatever they wanted. Men who commodified women, treating them like objects, giving them the high-life... at least, until they got bored and moved on to the next sexy creature who caught their eye, leaving those first girls in the dust.
At the time, Monica was riding the high of being the headliner, the center of attention, to such a degree that she found herself playing along with these powerful men, not recognizing that they were wolves hungry for a fresh piece of meat. In the headspace she was in at the time, their praise of her appeal and the big promises of stardom and luxury really resonated with her, as did the obscene amount of money they were flashing her, enough to change any girl's mind. It was all silly, since this was well beyond the scope of her mission, but Monica found herself playing along with them, purely out of naked curiosity. And perhaps she was a little lost in the role she was inhabiting, but Monica quickly understood why these men were so successful with a certain type of naïve woman, and how so many others before her had fallen under their sway. Luckily, Monica's fellow dancers rescued her before she got in over her head, pulling her away, explaining how these men would use up girls like them, luring them with offers of modeling gigs, offering them money, fame, and exposure. They did this while not disclosing the fact that these modeling offers rarely ended up being mainstream as promised, and often ended up being VERY pornographic. While Monica was confident she wouldn't have ever let things go nearly that far, the fact that the other dancers bailed her out filled her with warmth. The other girls treated Monica like she was one of them, and this only further aided her with her undercover assignment, helping her maintain her cover while also making her comfortable enough to really throw herself into role, knowing she had this extra layer of protection.
Monica couldn't deny that she enjoyed her time undercover dancing at the club. Not just the sisterhood of the fellow dancers, but the performance of it. The excitement of it. Dancing on stage, being the center of attention, baring the goods not for a man she cared about, but for money, for men who paid for the privilege to stare at her. It went against every code in her book, yet... it awakened something in her, a side of her personality that she still hadn't fully reckoned with. It truly was a rush like nothing else. There was a part of her that could have surrendered right then... retired from the force and gone into dancing full-time, and she would have made a well-paying career out of it, certainly more money than she made being a cop. She could have coasted through the last 15 years on nothing but the appeal of her incredible body. She could have devoted herself to that rush of pleasure she got every time she bared it all on stage and showed men the goods, shaking her tits, wagging her ass. There was a side of her that felt drawn to this destiny, the lure of the pole as David had called it, and if she'd done it for much longer than she had to, that part of her would have become harder to deny over time.
