Ascension

Charlie

I gripped the door frame to the red room and swung myself through the opening. My girls were all sitting in front of their individual vanities painting their faces. They were covered in sequins and feathers and whatever else their routines required.

“Ladies,” I called, “half an hour to show time.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Monica said, as she shimmied between me and the door frame. Her long bare legs made short work of the red room floor—we preferred red instead of green like in theater—as she strode toward her vanity and took a seat. The fishnet stockings she had on were dotted with glittering crystals at every cross section. I’d been eyeing them for weeks considering buying myself a pair, but the good ones cost upward of a couple hundred dollars. The money she earned during her routines made purchases like that no big deal to her.

Monica was my highest grossing dancer. She’d been stripping here at Ascension since I first started as a dancer. She and I had grown together in this pla