Chapter 1: Johanna
“Do you take this man to be your husband?” Reverend Burke, the preacher at our local church, asked his question for the second time, staring at me with a confused look on his face.
I can’t do this.
“...” My reply was silence.
I had rehearsed the moment, but when it finally came, I couldn’t force my tongue to form the words. I dropped my bouquet and turned to the crowd. They looked at me with the same confused stare I saw etched on Reverend Burke’s face. My eyes drifted to the man I was supposed to wed and the groomsmen standing behind him. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t become his wife. I grabbed the train on my dress and started running, hearing the immediate uproar of those in attendance. I ran until I had cleared the grass and felt pavement beneath my heels.
“Johanna! Johanna, wait!” I could hear Scott’s voice, but it didn’t slow me down.
Don’t turn around. Just keep running.
One of my heels snapped as I ran, and I almost twisted my ankle. I nearly went face first into the pavement, but even that didn’t make me stop. I could hear Scott continuing to call my name and that was enough to keep me going. I stumbled along with a limp, but finally made it to the limousine we had arranged to take us to the reception. I took one look over my shoulder at Scott, and then surprised the driver by opening the passenger side door. It appeared that he was snoozing as he waited for us.
“Take me to my hotel.” I slid into the front seat.
“Ma’am? Is the wedding over? Shouldn’t we wait on your husband?” He blinked in surprise several times.
“I don’t have a husband and I never will.” I turned and looked at the driver as Scott ran up to the limousine.
“Johanna, what are you doing?” Scott slammed his hand on the window several times. “We’re supposed to get married!”
“Drive!” I reached over and slapped the driver’s shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am.” The driver looked confused, but he turned the key, which automatically locked the door a second before Scott tried to open it.
People would think I was an awful person. I left Scott at the altar. Scott was nice, polite, very attractive, and if I would have said the magic words, he would have been mine forever. That was the problem. I had no idea what I truly wanted. I agreed to marry Scott because he asked, not because I loved him. I thought I was following the formula life put in front of me. I had an amazing boyfriend, at least that was what everyone said. That was supposed to lead to eternal happiness and a tribe of babies. The formula was boring. I wanted passion and desire. No matter how nice and attractive Scott was, he had neither of those.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Yes, we’re definitely hiring. Come on in and I’ll see if the owner can meet with you.” The large man in front of me pulled the door open and motioned for me to enter the building.
The smell of cigarette smoke, cheap booze, and total desperation assaulted my sense of smell as I followed him past the curtain that separated the lobby from the rest of the club. The lights were dim and there was a woman on a stage, writhing around a pole with her breasts on full display. A few men were sitting next to the stage holding money for her to take, but they weren’t making much noise. It was hard to hear anything over the music, but they didn’t seem to be doing much more than staring.
“Wait here.” The bouncer pointed at a chair next to the wall. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, thank you.” I felt nervousness in my stomach as I walked over and sat down.
A bus ticket got me to Reno. What little money I had saved up, combined with what I got from pawning my engagement ring, got me an apartment. The only thing missing from my new life was a job. I had graduated high school and decided college wasn’t for me because I was already engaged to Scott. He was supposed to leave for seminary after graduation, but he wanted us to get married first. Scott’s father was a fire-spewing Southern Baptist preacher in the heart of tiny Dahlonega, Georgia and one of the only men I had ever truly feared. When he sat us down and told us there would be no sex until marriage, that became law. Three agonizing years passed with nothing more than a kiss and the desires I had when we first started dating slowly faded away. It was boring.
“Mr. Carson will speak with you.” The bouncer returned and motioned for me to follow him.
I followed the bouncer down a long hallway that was even darker than the strip club. I was about to beg for a job that I didn’t want, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I had tried every conventional job I could think of, but the only one that even offered to hire me was a diner. I spent two days making little to nothing from tips, and once I did the math, I realized I would need at least four of those jobs just to cover my monthly expenses. One thing I was good at was dancing. I had never stripped before or danced for money, but my pride had been shelved in favor of freedom once when I became the disgrace of my small southern town. Ending up on a stripper pole sounded like a perfect next step in what my mother called my spiritual downfall.
“I’m Eddie Carson.” A man with greasy black hair and a cigar protruding from his lips stood up as I walked into the office.
“I’m Johanna. Johanna Vance.” I stood awkwardly in front of his desk once the door was closed.
“Do you have any experience dancing?” His lips squeezed the cigar and the tip glowed as he stared at me.
“I’ve danced before.” I nodded and tightened the death grip I had on my purse.
“Well let’s see them, then.” He waved his hand in my direction and pulled the cigar out of his mouth.
“What?” I raised my eyebrows and watched as he pulled his chair to the side of his desk and took a seat.
“Your tits, sweetheart. They’re going to be paying to see your tits, so let me see if they’re worth the money.” He waved his hand at me again.
“Right...” I took a deep breath and put my purse on the couch.
“You seem nervous. I thought you said you had experience.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “If it takes you this long to get your tits out, you’re not going to be very popular out there.”