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Shot Girl. I got you a good one tonight.”
Jasmine grinned as she sat at her cramped makeup table. She was the best dancer
in this whole place, and our boss, Roger, made sure to always give her the
closing number on stage. Jasmine made more money in a week than some people
working in Hollywood, but she also had a side job that helped up her profit.
Her thick Brooklyn accent and hoarse voice filled the air as she applied more
mascara onto her outrageously fake lashes. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get him to
take you to his place afterwards. You’ll be eatin’ off that money for the whole
month.”
    My stomach bubbled up as I shot a dirty look her way. “I
don’t sleep with guys.” The thought alone made me think of Derrick, and instant
guilt hit me.
    Jasmine stood up from her seat and chuckled as she walked to
me with her jet black hair falling down to her waist. “Wasn’t it just yesterday
you didn’t even strip, Shot Girl? What you waiting for? You waiting for God to
pay your bills? I don’t know about you but I’m gonna get mine right now, and I
suggest you do the same.”
    With that, she left me standing there, filled with an
overwhelming feeling of vomit trying to escape from my gut. Ladasha rolled her
eyes and told me not to listen to Jasmine, but how could I not? She was right—
just yesterday I wasn’t a stripper.
    I looked at myself and watched my bottom lip quiver. Ladasha
tried to convince me there was another way to get the money for rent and I
shouldn’t worry about such things. But I wasn’t ready to back down. I could do
it. I just needed her to give me a few of her comforting words to ease the
freak out that was about to be released into the world.
    Ladasha could tell how seriously I was in need of a pep talk
so she delivered her best one. “ Pretty Woman ,” she said.
    “What?”
    “ Pretty Woman . Name the rules. Before she was stupid
and went and fell in love and got rich and shit.” She was serious. Most of
Ladasha’s best pep talks were based off movies. She was addicted to all movies,
and it would be a shock if she didn’t know what was playing in the nearest
theater.
    I nodded as I thought over the rules of Pretty Woman .
“No personal information. No kissing on the lips. No second meet up.”
    “Unless it’s Richard Gere,” Ladasha tossed in.
    “It’s not Richard Gere.”
    “Listen. Just go in there and be your super sexy self. Shake
your booty. Collect the cash. If it’s a freak, have Frank handle him. And leave.
Easy!”
    Right. Easy. Pretty Woman rules . I thanked my
friend and left the dressing room. Walking through the strip club, I ignored
the howls from the hungry perverts coming my way. I felt like a piece of meat
about to be tossed into the ring with a pack of lions. As I approached the VIP
rooms that had Frank, the security guard, standing in front of the door, I let
out a halfway smile.
    “You doing a VIP room, Andrea?” he questioned. I informed
him it was a test drive; he nodded and opened the door. “You got fifteen
minutes. After that, I grab you out.” I closed my eyes and did a quick prayer
to God that it wasn’t a creep. Please, God. Don’t send me a motherfreakin’
creep.
    I stepped into the room in my shiny heels and Frank closed
the door behind me. When I opened my eyes and stared at the man sitting across
from me, I gasped. He was beautiful. He wore a button-down black long-sleeved
shirt with charcoal slacks. Even with the clothing, I realized how perfectly
made his body was. He quickly rose to his feet and started speaking.
    “Hi,” he said as he reached his hand out to me for a
handshake. I stood there, confused. Did strippers normally shake hands with
their ‘client’? How did I know? I was only a stripper-in-training after all.
    “Right.” He pulled his arm back and placed both hands in his
slacks. Involuntarily, my eyes watched his hips start to rock back and forth.
“So, yeah. I don’t normally do this, but…yeah.” He murmured