Chapter Sixteen: Put On A Show
Naomi
I usually did all my studying at my own kitchen table, since I didn’t have a desk, or a place to even put one. But today, Gavin was with Smoke, and I decided to have a study session with Samantha in her living space. Even if we weren’t talking, it was just nice to occupy the same space as someone else while doing schoolwork. It was less lonely.
The upstairs of the house, where she lived, had two bedrooms like the basement, but it was much bigger. It had a room probably originally meant to be a dining room, since it was right off the kitchen, but Samantha used it as an office. She looked completely at home sitting behind a desk facing the room while her back was to a big window that looked out over the street.
I sat facing that direction, using the other side of the desk while sitting in a straight-backed chair.
Today, I kept looking around the room, shocked at what I saw. Samantha had always come across as the kind of girl that had herself together. So when I’d been in here in the past, she’d certainly lived up to that, with everything neat and organized, almost meticulously. Now, everything was a scattered mess. There were disorganized papers and empty Monster cans all over this room.
“You doing okay, Samantha?” I asked, carefully keeping my voice nonchalant. “You don’t exactly seem like yourself.” I wanted to be more tactful than that, but I didn’t know how to word it in a more subtle way. I knew like me, Samantha didn’t have anyone to look out for her. Her parents took care of things financially, but they didn’t spend real time with Samantha. She’d told me the pair of them lived in New York. At least, I had Gavin to keep me on track in life. I now worried that she wasn’t handling full-time school well because she had no support system.
Luckily, Samantha didn’t seem offended by my statement, she just took a big gulp of her energy drink before responding, “I’ve just been under a lot of pressure lately. Classes are getting harder as the semester goes on, you know.”
I did know, but this seemed like more than that. “Are you at least eating regularly?” I asked, noticing she looked more slender than I remembered. But I saw her all the time, so if it was gradual, I might have missed it happening.
“I do what I can,” she said dismissively. “I’m not going to starve if I skip dinner every so often.”
I shook my head. The pressure of college proved to be too much for some people, and they started to act strangely. But she needed to eat and get more sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes. “That energy drink is making you jittery, I think,” I pointed out. She didn’t seem like she could fully relax, and I was finding it distracting.
“Can we just work on studying?” Samantha asked, refusing to acknowledge what I’d just said as she pulled an open textbook closer to her and started flipping through it, looking for something.
I decided I would ask Smoke to take Gavin overnight more often, especially when I worked, to give Samantha a break. She needed more sleep. For now, I would just drop it, and we could do schoolwork, but I knew I needed to keep my eye on her.
By the time the weekend came around again, Duane seemed to have forgotten all about being angry with me for Smoke telling him off. I’d been working on a new routine in my spare time, taking inspiration from pop music videos from the nineties—Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Jennifer Lopez—to incorporate some new moves, and I couldn’t wait to bust it out on the stage tonight. Stripping wasn’t exactly a dream job, but I did enjoy the creative license I had and dancing was fun.
I’d already performed the old routine, and spent a little time out on the floor, mingling with the men. I refused to go into the private rooms, despite the fact they were big money-makers. I’d done it in the beginning of this job, and had learned real quick that men had certain expectations in those dark, enclosed spaces. They usually let their hands roam freely, touching and grabbing as they pleased. But some men equated the private dances to a room with prostitute, thinking they could get sex for the right price. For some women, that might be the case, but I wasn’t one of them. I drew the line there, and I’d never cross it. Now I was backstage again, ready to go back out for my last performance of the night, the new one.
As I stepped through the curtain, an awareness rushed across my skin. Somehow, my body sensed Smoke’s presence. I knew that one of the sets of eyes on me belonged to him. It took only a second to spot him in the crowd. He sat at a table in front of my little stage, alone this time. His eyes were glued to me, and for the first time since I started stripping, I felt a blast of lust hit me while I was on the stage. I suddenly wanted to do my new routine, not because I was hoping it would earn me big tips from the guys or even because I enjoyed dancing, instead I wanted to do it for him. The idea of stripping myself for Smokemade this whole experience something different. It was sensual and erotic, and I started at the pole, looking at him the entire time. It felt like we were the only two people in the entire place.
The intensity of his stare was like a physical caress, and I relished it as I swung my hips, bumping and gyrating. I flipped my hair and bit my lip, trying harder than ever to be sexy, because I’d never felt as wanted as I did when Smoke looked at me like this, with his dark eyes devouring me. I’d heard some of the other girls talking about stripping being an empowering experience, but I’d never felt that way before now. Smoke gave me that.
By the time the song ended, I was aching to be touched by him again. What we did a few nights ago wasn’t enough. I was starting to wonder if anything ever would be. I might just be addicted to the way he made me feel, and I couldn’t see myself ever letting that go.
The day after our fight, I had been guilty and miserable. When Gavin had left to stay with a friend overnight, I had decided to give myself a pedicure, since I figured it would make me feel better to do a little pampering, and there was no way I should have been spending money on something like that right now. I had wanted to see Smoke, to make things right, but my stupid pride had kept me from reaching out.
Discovering Gavin had done it for me was a shock, and despite how well it had worked out, I had sat him down the next day to talk about boundaries. He was told that he was absolutely not supposed to use my phone to text or call anyone without my permission, which he agreed to, but I changed my passcode to something he didn’t know, just in case.
He’d been so sweet when he admitted that he wanted to see Smoke and I together, that he thought we could become a real family. I could see us reaching that point someday maybe, but it was way too soon to even consider that. I wasn’t sure where things were going to go between us yet and I didn’t want to make any assumptions, or promise Gavin anything. My number one priority was making sure he didn’t get hurt.
At the end of my routine, I whipped off my bra, revealing that I was wearing stick-on tassels that they couldn’t see before. There were cheers and I bent to collect the money being held out to me. During the last notes of the song, I glanced at Smoke again to see a mixture of arousal and jealousy playing out on his face, and I sent a wink to him before turning around and strutting off the stage.
Yep. Empowering.
I was done for the evening, so I changed into street clothes, sweatpants and a black T-shirt that had a picture of the moon behind mountains on it. I even took a few extra minutes to wipe off the heavy make-up, so I would look like my normal self when I left the dressing room.
Was Smoke still here?
I got my answer as soon as I stepped out of the backstage area and onto the club floor. There were girls walking around in heels and barely-there outfits, carrying trays of drinks for the customers, while the strippers held everyone’s attention on stage.
Smoke stood at the bar now, and I went to him, carrying my backpack over one shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said, reaching out to take a hold of his hand.
“Well, I had Rebel Saints business, but I also wanted to see you. I figured I could give you a ride home.”
That was perfect. I thought I would have to stick around until one of the other girls were ready to leave for the night and beg for a ride home. “You’re a prince,” I told him, and could have sworn that he blushed a little, even in the low lighting of the place.
“There’s something else,” he continued. “I wanted to tell you in person.”