The Dons Siren

Chapter Four

Sofia

"No, I don't have daddy issues."

"No, I don't date my customers."

"No, I don't want to go home with you."

Teachers always tell you that there is no such thing as stupid questions to prepare you for the world, but what they don't tell you is how stupid people actually are.

Most of the men that came in here were regulars, were married, and had children my age. Yet, they still wanted to take me home and pamper me like I've never been pampered before.

I could pamper and spoil myself if I wanted to. I could buy myself whatever I wanted. I just chose not to.

I didn't spend my money recklessly when I had more important things to take care of and deal with.

I chose to spend every dollar I made on more crucial points in my life. I had my father's bills stacked up and my bills and my brother's dorm fees, and his tuition.

They didn't know I was stripping to get the money, and as far as they were concerned, I worked as a secretary at some office in the city.

The less they knew, the better. I didn't want to have to beg them to take the money I sent them weekly.

I knew if they knew, they wouldn't accept any of it, and since my father couldn't work and my brother was still studying, I was their only source of income.

I danced ballet when I was a kid; my pathetic excuse for a mother signed me up for classes as soon as I learned how to walk.

I hated it, and not because it was ballet because it was just another memory that I had of my mother.

I hated every memory I had with her, and so far nothing helped take her out of my head.

The only thing that helps me sleep at night is knowing is that if she saw me stripping, she'd hate it. She'd hate it so much and that was my fuel sometimes.

It's not that I hated dancing because I didn't mind it. I didn't mind the extra work I put in my body, the long hours at the gym to help strengthen my core, and the dancing classes I took on the side.

Dancing wasn't just gripping a pole and twirling around on it. Stripping took time, dedication, and dealing with grabby assholes who didn't know the meaning of 'look but don't touch.'

A girl can only threaten so many men until word got around that she was the red-haired bitch of Mistica. Bitch or not, they always come running back.

"Sirena, you're up." I heard the club manager call out to me from outside the locker room.

"All right. Got it, Will," I shouted back.

I looked into the mirror as I reapplied my makeup for the twentieth time today before running a brush through my hair. Seeing it so red made me miss the color of my natural hair.

I stood up and looked at the outfit I picked for my last set. It was pretty, I guess. It was an off-the-shoulder see-through black glittery unitard that revealed that I was completely naked underneath.

My tits looked fantastic, not gonna lie, and it's not like no one here hasn't seen me naked. Not something I'd ever wear for a man I was dating, but then again, I didn't really date.

Once they find out you're a stripper, suddenly they're repulsed that I dance naked for men, and you can't turn a whore into a mother or whatever shit they spewed.

My feet were aching in the platform heels I was wearing from dancing all night, but it was fine because it was my last set, and I had already made $700 so far.