The dance

Chapter 3

The dance

Allyson

Strangely enough, today I feel much prettier than usual. This lingerie really suits me. I'm a bit darker and the light pink contrasts with my skin very well. I'm doing pole dance moves. I go up and down on my head to the sound of "Real" by Ki-Si Yang. A very sexy song from my playlist.

I can see absolutely nothing on the other side of the glass, this person must not really want to be known by anyone. I lower myself to the ground, holding onto the metal pole as I slide my hands down the side of my body. Then I bring the indicated finger to my lips and bite it, smiling provocatively at the mysterious spectator. I confess I'm enjoying this mystery. It excites me a little more than other performances I've done in the last two months.

When the song finally ends, I blow him a kiss and leave the room, completely unaware of the mystery person, but that doesn't matter. What matters is knowing how much he paid for the performance, although I don't have high expectations. They usually pay very little.

 Back in the changing room, I change quickly, I'm tired. It's already 10:36 p.m. and I need to get to sleep soon, college is going to be exhausting tomorrow. But first I see Margot come through the door with a scary smile on her face.

"Did you see that gentleman paid for you?" she said, almost jumping. "You're going to buy me a bag!

"My God... " I replied, putting my hands out in front of me, trying to stop her jumping for joy. "You know I need to buy my father's medicine, you crazy woman," I smiled.

"That's true, my friend, but everything will work out. Maybe more of these rich guys will show up here. I wonder how much he gave you?"

"The better question would be how much is Barry going to get for him, isn't it?"

"He's not like that, Allyson, you should know that by now."

I'm starting to get happy right away. Will these dance nights really help my dream? Are they really doing any good? I hope this isn't the only generous client of the week... I took this job two months ago and I really need this money. However, I notice that other girls are looking at me with some envy. Well, you can't please everyone. Some people will still envy me even though I'm in the deepest pit. They have no idea how hard I work to give my father dignity. Only Margot accompanies me on these crazy things because she also needs immediate cash. Everyone has problems, but some people seem to forget that when it comes to envying other people's misfortune.

"Daisy, Barry wants to talk to you. " one of the girls warns

"Quick girl, quick! " Margot rushes me, throwing my clothes at me.

Maybe she thinks I'm going to give her something. I would if I could, but I can't. I'm just grateful to her for introducing me to this job. I feel slightly obliged to be grateful. After all, it was she who got me this job. We studied some subjects together at university. That's how we met.

I stomp my heels towards my boss's office. I knock twice and hear him whistle on the other side. That's how he tells people to come in. I open the door slowly and there he is, sitting at his desk fidgeting with his feet, not at all elegant. I remember Peter in his living room. The way he behaves, the way he moves, the way he drinks his coffee and even the way he types on his computer keyboard. This man in front of me is nothing like Mr. Fletcher.

"Daisy?" He takes his pipe out of his mouth. Puffing the air with that rotten smoke. "How can I help?

"I see I received a considerable sum today, sir. " I said, sitting down in an old armchair next to his desk.

"Yes. And that's very strange because he knew your name and surname."

"What?" I'm startled.

"I wondered what this girl was up to. Some ex-boyfriend who's going to get me into trouble? I hope you remember what I said on your first day at work, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, no lovers here"

"And who is this man?"

I look at him with a certain indignation.

"I don't know, I didn't see him, he was in the dark the whole time"

"So, Daisy, refreshing your memory" that cigar smell makes me sick "I hope you remember that I don't want any trouble".

"Yes, sir, you won't get into trouble"

He opens a drawer and throws me a fat envelope, which I promptly take. I open it slowly, not very hopeful. It must be 100 one-dollar bills. But to my amazement, when I look at the bills, there are many 100-dollar bills. I count them all.

"Two thousand five hundred dollars?" I ask him nervously.

"It must be. " He replies, scratching his throat.

"And you don't mind?

" Mind what? It was your show. He paid the entrance fee and the rest is your money.

My smile grows exponentially, my face almost hurts. To think I always think badly of Barry. I quickly put the envelope in my pocket and stand up to hug him, but he quickly dodges me.

"What's wrong?" I ask. "I just wanted to say thank you.

"Miss, there's no need for that, go home. Go spend your money and take a cab."

I sigh dryly and let out an unintentional laugh, which I then cover with my hands.

"Thanks, Barry."

I extend my hand to him and with a smile he extends his. And in a handshake, we end our awkward interaction and with generosity on his part, I say goodbye. I never thought the owner of a strip club would be so kind. He always walks around with such a closed face. I run out of his office jumping for joy and Margot is already waiting for me, and of course with a sarcastic smile on her face.

"How much, how much, how much?! " she jumps up.

"Two thousand five hundred!"

She gives a loud shout in the corridor and hugs me so tightly that I can hardly breathe.

"Now, please don't be late anymore. " She slaps me on the shoulder. "I'll tell the other girls!

She starts running towards the other dressing rooms.

" What about your bag?!" I ask her.

"Just kidding, miss! Use the money carefully! " Then she disappears around the corner of the corridor.

I find myself staring at the wall with an amused smile on my face. What am I going to do with all this money? It pays for more than my father's medication. My college is almost paid for, I don't need to worry about that. But the money from my internship already pays for my stay. It doesn't matter now, I'll figure out what to do with all those bills later.

The next day, everyone in the office tells me that I've changed my position in the company. I'm now Fletcher's personal assistant. HOW?! Didn't I screw up yesterday? Did I still get promoted? Lisa looks at me with envy and anger. I wonder what she must be thinking of me. I stand next to Fletcher's office until he arrives. I'm nervous, shaking.

Finally, he arrives and barely looks at me. He walks into his office, passing me without so much as a glance. He says a dry, raspy good morning to the office staff and sits down in his office. Everyone responds with respect and more than that: fear of losing their job.

"Mitchell!" He shouts. I shudder. "Come in."

I almost drop my folders and the cactus I'm growing on my desk. I walk awkwardly into the room. Fletcher looks up and smiles at me wryly.

"You did the right thing yesterday," he begins. "You didn't make excuses, you did your job until after hours, and that's why you've been promoted. You'll be working with me in this room. Whatever I ask you to do, you'll do it promptly, understand?" He doesn't talk to me the way he talks to everyone else. He's softer. Strangely soft.

"Of course, sir. Where do I sit, sir?"

He points to a table in the corner and, under the watchful eye of my boss, I place my personal belongings and work folders on the table. I feel him looking at me. Why don't I think I've been promoted for being a good employee only last night? I widen my eyes. Was that him at Venus? Dread seizes me! The familiar car I saw on the side of the nightclub... It can't be! Mr. Fletcher has a girlfriend, I guess. She came to the office half a dozen times. She hasn't been in for a long time.

I turn my gaze to my boss. He quickly shifts his gaze to his computer. That's curious, he watches me in silence. Is Mr. Fletcher, my boss, the man who stayed in the dark and paid me two and a half thousand dollars for the dance? The only way to find out is to get closer, because my guess is that he'll never tell me.