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Demon's Offer
    Sara spotted the man as soon as he entered the club.
He was a tall, imposing presence, dressed immaculately in a
pristine white suit. In the smoky gloom he shone like a beacon, and
was a million miles away from the usual clientele they got in here.
Most of the visitor's to the Devil's Playground were anything but
interesting. But this one was something else. His sleek, cut glass
features stood out as his dark eyes swept the room fixing on Sara
who was dancing on the stage. Their gazes met, and a trill of
electricity shot through her.
    “Hey honey, shake that ass!”
    The catcall from below brought her back to reality.
She looked down at the customer who had shouted at her. He was
dressed in a rumpled suit and had a shit-faced grin splayed across
his arrogant face. She took him for a stockbroker. He waved a
twenty dollar bill at her. “Come on baby, give me that sugar!”
    Prick! Sara said to herself
as she pouted at him and turned round. She heard the stockbroker
make appreciative noises as she shook her tight little ass at him.
It was one of her best features, in addition to her other two ample
assets, and the minuscule black g-string complemented it perfectly.
A ragged cheer went up from the other watching customers.
    She turned round and thrust her crotch at the
stockbroker. He whooped like an excited teenager, and waved the
dollar bill at her. Leaning forward, Sara gave him her best
I-wanna-suck-your-dick smile, and took the bill in her teeth.
    “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” the little
prick drooled. “You’ll do anything for cash won’t you, slut!”
    Sara fought back the reflex to claw his eyes out.
Even after a whole year working in the club she’d still not got
used to being treated as a piece of meat. In the not too distance
past, she’d never realized dives like this existed, and in all her
wildest nightmares, she’d never thought she’d end up working in
such a place. But Fate was a cruel mistress and she’d decided to
condemn Sara to this living hell without any chance of
reprieve.
    Remembering the stranger, she scanned the bar but
there was no sign of him. She made eye-contact with Candy on the
nearby podium. She was doing her naughty nurse dance routine for a
pack of horny college students, and she flashed Sara a weary
smile.
    Sara returned the smile, feeling a small lift in her
spirits. Candy was her best friend in the Devil's Playground. The
older woman had taken the scared and naïve little rich kid Sara
once was, under her wing and showed her the ropes. She’d taught
Sara how to dance and how to tease the customers, and had shielded
her from the unsavory advances of Al, the Devil's Playground’s
slimy manager.
    As if on cue, he shambled out from behind the bar.
She felt his lecherous gaze on him as she danced, and did her best
to ignore it. A deep, malignant feeling of shame burned inside her.
Every fiber of her being screamed that what she was doing was
wrong. Stripping for money was utterly degrading, and her parents
would be shocked and horrified if they could see what their little
girl had become. The asshole stockbroker was right. She was a slut.
A dirty whore who deserved everything she got.
    That’s enough, s he told
herself angrily. She wasn’t a piece of trash. She was a decent and
brave woman. Candy always said that it was the guys who came here
who were dirty. They were dirty and hypocritical, coming to places
like these for a cheap thrill, then heading home to their wives and
girlfriends. It was them who should be ashamed. Candy told Sara she
should be proud she wasn’t like that. Sara had to take her clothes
off out of necessity. The men who watched her had the choice to do
the right thing, but didn’t.
    Sara felt a little better as she remembered this.
Candy had two little daughters to support, and this was the only
way she could make the money to give them the life she wanted for
them. Sara also knew Candy worked the private rooms upstairs.