Chapter Text
Routine was extremely important to me. The comfort of knowing what is coming next, never having to prepare myself for a tactical move for an unexpected situation was one of the only reasons I kept getting up in the morning.
My day had started as any other had; peel my aching body from its dent in my mattress long after the sun had already risen, dope myself up on caffeine before the crust if blinked out of my eyes, disassociate in the shower. No errands to run, no people to meet for overpriced coffee and meaningless chatter. Just me and my trashy tv shows until it was time to get ready for work.
That routine was always the same too. Three outfits, two pairs of shoes, one pair of heels, the other boots, the same makeup I’ve done since I started wearing it as a teenager. The only thing that changed was my hair. The temperature was much higher than normal so I opted for a loose but sexy messy bun, tendrils of curls spilling around my face.
I drove the same roads, took the same turns I always did until the dull thumping of bass started to fill my ears as my job’s building started to come into view. I even got walked in by the same security guard each shift I worked. The girls knew not to sit in my spot in the dressing room unless they were feigning to lose a finger.
Routine. Structure. Familiarity.
All of that went out the window the night he came in.
Being a stripper wasn’t nearly as glamorous as everyone made it out to be. Yes the money was good, but sometimes you lost money coming to work if it was slow enough. Outfits, shoes, house fees, gas, those expenses added up quickly.
Thank goodness for tax write offs.
Having the meaty dirty hands of me pawing all of your breasts while carrying the mental load of wondering if they were going home to an unknowing wife could take quite the toll on one’s mental health.
And yet for some reason, I kept coming back. I wasn’t sure if it was the security of knowing I had the potential to make three times my rent in a single night, or knowing that I was a top dog in the club and hearing the vague affections from men who could get real satisfaction from a woman outside of these four walls, but I found myself hidden in the shadows of The Honeycomb, blurring the lines of working and people watching.
Our DJ, Lance, was on his way back to his booth as he stopped by my place at the bar, “Luna, you’re up next.”
I tossed back the rest of my tequila and grimaced as the agave after taste burned my throat on the way down. I pushed myself out of the barstool and headed toward the stage as Lance’s voice grumbled my name over the speakers in a garbled jumble. I helped Demi off stage after she gathered her bills and headed towards the VIP area with the blue collar guy who had been showering her with money all night. Unlike many other dancers, it brought a warm sense of joy to see my fellow girls doing well. A lot of them were mothers trying to put food on the table or just women trying to find a sense of independence in a world catered to men, as hypocritical as that sounds. If you can’t beat them, join them I guess.
I rose to the stage and set my tiny black handbag toward the back wall near the mirrors. I gave myself a once over in the mirror, the carefully placed rhinestones on my skimpy two piece outfit winking back at me in hues of mauve and silver, the stark white platform boots glowing under the black light. In the reflection I noticed the club slowly starting to fill up with clients, some faces familiar and some not.
I had my regulars that came and saw me each week, those were the ones that kept the lights on and bellies full. Every once in a while someone would come in that would be a nice change of pace from the regular demographics of people I saw each night. Someone who was interested in the inner workings of the brain behind the pretty face, someone who saw more than sexy legs and full breasts. They usually never stuck around, but I always appreciated the interaction.
My focus came back to my surroundings and I slowly and sexily sauntered my way toward the center of the stage. I typically saved my more extravagant pole tricks for when the club was more busy, but Lance started my setlist off with one of my favorite songs, so I couldn’t hold back. My hips slowly started swaying to the beat as my hand gripped the cold chrome pole. I swung myself around slowly, dipping to the floor and arching my back as I rose back to my feet. I lifted myself off the ground and glided into the air, wrapping my legs around the pole for grip as I spun slowly. I pulled my legs up and crossed them, giving myself enough leverage to let go and run my hands down my torso. My body wasn’t perfect by any means, but confidence and the right proportions could take you a long way.
I was too lost in my flow to notice I had gained an admirer. A flash of silver hair and a muscled forearm was all I saw as the mystery man dropped a bundle of bills on my stage, his eyes never leaving the floor as he made his way to the bar. It wasn’t unusual to have customer drop their loose bills on stage as they passed by, but I had been in the industry long enough to know Mr. Broody left a generous tip.
I slowly slid my body down the pole and as I moved my body in sensual poses on the floor, I watched him. He ordered a dark drink and took a seat at the very end of the bar, the dim lighting making it impossible to make out any defining features on his face. I gave a few dances to those who came and sat at my stage, yet I couldn’t break my attention from the man at the bar. I made it through my stage set by mindlessly moving through the motions and after gathering my tips and stuffing them into my purse, I left the stage and found myself heading straight back to the bar.
I didn’t hesitate before sliding into the open seat next to him, and our bartender poured me a glass of incredibly refreshing ice water. The sweet aroma of cedar and clean musk tickled my nose which finally gave me the courage to turn and face him. The darkness of the club deceived me, and when he finally met my gaze I immediately sunk my teeth into my bottom lip. He was much more handsome than I expected with strong cheek bones and faint crinkles around his eyes that held more stories than words could ever say. His hair was more salt and pepper up close and it spiraled about his head in fluffy curls. He leaned back in his seat with his back against the wall, one of his very muscular arms draped over the edge of the bar, his body language asserting a very sexy dominance.
I sipped some water and finally broke the silence between us, “Hi.”
His mouth twitched in a half smile as he replied, “Hi.”
“I don’t want to be corny, but I’ve never seen you here before.” I gazed at him through my thick dark lashes, studying every detail of his face. I leaned forward on my elbow and resting my cheek against my hand as he talked to me.
“That’s because I’m usually at work at the same time you are,” His eyes flickered down to the very expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, see? Right now I am usually elbow deep in somebody’s abdomen.” He smirked as he saw the confusion dance across my contorted brows. “I’m an ER night shift attending at PTMC.”
The facility name rang a bell since I drove by it each night on my way to and from work. “You’re a doctor?” I said.
He nods, “Yes ma’am, but don’t choke or go into cardiac arrest, I’m off the clock.” I blush at his playfulness. Broody with a sense of humor, I think I might want him to stick around.
“So what drew you in tonight? Was it the half working neon sign out front of the trail of half smoked cigarette butts leading you to the doorway?” I teased. I usually wasn’t so witty with customers and liked to keep my interactions strictly business, but there was something about him I liked.
“I have a major sweet tooth,” He winked which made my cheeks warm. “Thought a place called The Honeycomb might help me satiate it.” His eyes flickered over my face and I swear they lingered on my lips before going back to my eyes. “I’m Jack by the way.”
I gripped his outstretched hand which nearly swallowed mine. “Luna.”
“Luna.” He repeated my name with a tone dripping in brimming heat. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Only if the doctor recommends I have one.” I quipped. Jack smiled as he waved down the bartender. “I’ll have a Paloma please.”
“Tequila huh?” He raised his glass to his lips, “You’re trouble.”
“Says the guy drinking a glass of straight, what is that? Brandy? Whiskey?”
He chuckled deeply which stirred an unfamiliar pool of heat low in my belly, “Scotch, I’m a classic man.” The bartender sets my drink down and Jack slips them a twenty dollar bill. “You like working here?”
This was a question I had been trained to answer. “Yes and no. Any job has its ups and downs; crappy bosses, whiney coworkers, unfair working conditions. But I make good money and I get to sleep all day and stay up all night. I’ve been a night owl ever since I could remember, my dad used to have to literally drag me out of bed to get me to school in the morning.”
“And how long ago was that? Just last summer.” He teased me at my age.
I let my mouth fall open playfully which earned me a chuckle from Jack. “Actually it was ten summers ago, my dad left when I was a sophomore and never came back.” I realized I was oversharing. “Sorry for the trauma dumping, I’m not big on ice breaking.”
Jack studied me for a moment which nearly made me choke on my cocktail. I was already noticing tiny details like how his mouth twitched when he was thinking or the way his eyes smiled before his mouth did, and I found myself wanting to make him do those things more often.
“Want me to make you feel better?” The loaded question hung in the air and before I could answer Jack reached down and tugged his pants leg up, revealing a prosthetic leg underneath as he rested it against the metal bar beneath my seat. I silently gasped as I reached out to touch it, the metal cool against my fingertips. “Lost it when I was deployed overseas, on the bright side I’m always ten pounds lighter.”
“You’re military?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am.”
“And a doctor?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Do you spend your free time searching for the cure for world hunger and giving free medical treatment to impoverished countries?" Jack laughed at my comment, resting his glass on the counter and turning back towards me, his presence suddenly feeling like it was crushing me when he simply leaned in a few inches closer.
“No, I actually like to spend it in biohazardous strip clubs staring into the eyes of a very beautiful woman who is much too young for me.” My skin tingled with excitement at his sly adoration. He was the change of pace I needed in my night.
“Mm,” I sipped down more of my drink, starting to feel the heat creep up my neck and my nerve endings start to tingle. “I’m a girl with daddy issues, trust me, you’re right in my league.” I reached out and gently twirled one of his silver locks. “I like a man with experience.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, Jack’s eyes dancing around behind me, absorbing the environment around us. I had finally worked up the courage to ask him if he wanted to take me back for a dance because one; a girl needs her rent paid and two; I really wanted to know what it felt like to have his hands on my body, but just as I went to proposition him his phone rang quietly over the deep bass rattling the club.
Jack’s brows pinched together as he hissed, “Damnit.”
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Night shift always seems to fall apart once I finally have a day off.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and rose to his feet, pulling out a few more bills and gently handing them over to me.
“Just as I was about to ask you for a dance.” I lightheartedly pouted. “Maybe next time?”
Jack bit back a smile, “Trust me, this won’t be the last time I see you. Have a good night, Miss Luna.”
My eyes followed him all the way to the door as he disappeared into the night. I looked down at the money he put in my hand and nearly gagged when I saw the amount. I could go home and not come back for nearly a week and not think twice about it. I suddenly felt a sinking in my chest at the absence of his presence, and the rest of the night I found myself glancing toward the door, hoping for a certain handsome doctor to walk back in and whisk me away with him.