Dark Lust

Jolie

"Are you excited for your Spotlight Show?" Arabella asks me as she adds gems on the corner of her eyes.

"I wouldn't say excited. I'm ready."

Tony thought it would be a wonderful idea to put me in a read demon costume because my stage name has Angel in it. I look like a Victoria Secret model. I get to show off black feathered wings. I look at myself in the mirror. Damn, am I irresistible or what?

"Would you believe me if I said you were going to make over ten grand tonight."

"Yeah and tomorrow I'm going to wake up as a Kardashian."

"Jolie," I turn to look at Arie. "I'm serious. This is not a strip club on the side of the highway. You'll understand when you go out there."

I wasn't prepared for what I saw. All the locations I've worked at do not compare to the crowd here tonight. I'm used to shacks that hold five people a night and give lousy tips. What am I supposed to do with ten grand? Am I supposed to claim this in taxes? I feel like this is illegal but it's L.A. Everything here is illegal. Hollywood is just one big pedophile ring and everyone is a part of the Illuminati. So what's one person screwing over the government going to do?

Time ticks down until I am five minutes away from my Spotlight Show. I wish I could have had a cigarette to calm my nerves. One of the girls told me I could snort some of her pills. I would be lying if I said I didn't think about it. Then I realized, I'm not a pill popper.

"You ready darling?" Tony asks me.

"Bring it on," I say.

Tony gives me a wink and walks out to the side of the main stage. "Give it up for the delightful Juniper! Lovely darling, lovely. Alright, I'm bringing out some new talent. She's a fiery one from the depths of hell. She may look angelic, but she's far from it. I present to you, her first Spotlight Show, Angel Jolie!"

I strut and shake my way up to the pole. All the customers hoot and holler, giving me a boost of confidence. My mom would be so proud if she could see me shaking my money maker right now. I should invite her some time. Maybe she could hand out her own damn business cards instead of sticking them in my fucking backpack every morning before I leave.

I do some ground tricks, taking my wings off one at a time. I planned to climb the pole, but my eyes have found a familiar face across the club. I stop in my tracks at a cold, hard stare that locks me up. Shit! I can't stop. Well, I'm here to give a show, and I'm not letting anyone stop me.

Not even Ciaran.

I climb the pole, doing all the twists and flips as I can, but the catch I give myself: never break Ciaran's eye contact. He breaks me every now and then to tend to his customers. Every chance he gets, he's mine. I know I fully have his attention when my top falls to the ground. He may be across the room, but I know exactly what his facial expression is. It's a mix. Jealousy because I'm showing off my body to everyone besides him. Rage because I work here. Excitement because I'm turning him the fuck on.

I notice Ciaran arguing with some guy behind the bar with him. Ciaran grips the bar and I can bet his veins are protruding and his muscles look like they are going to rip. I shake my chest as I slide down the pole. As much as I hate to admit it, this show is not for all these hormonal people throwing me money. It's for Ciaran.

I'll have to remind myself to ask him how I was.

My hour is over in a flash. I have to call for someone to clean my money up. Arabella was not lying about the money. As soon as I am off the stage, Arabella helps me reapply my makeup. I get a fifteen-minute leeway between my Spotlight Show and being called again. She explains girls who have a Spotlight Show will be on a stage for the rest of the night.

"Jolie, you have a call to Stage 25." My manager catches me in the backroom leaving the bathroom.

"25? I thought they only went to 20?"

She leaves me questioning. Juniper fills me in the rest of the way.

"21 through 25 are secluded. Go to the right of the main stage and there will be an opening to the area."

"But I can't do private dances."

"They aren't private dances. Private dances are the doors numbered around the place. Consider it to be like a knock off version. It's like the balcony, only in a separate room."

I followed her directions. Stage 25 is lit up for me but there's no one sitting in the booth. This better not be some stupid joke to kidnap me. I get on the stage anyway thinking someone has a fetish for watching me from a hidden distance. I don't do much except for walking myself around the pole. If no one is watching, I don't want to waste my energy on no one. I look at the call button and go to reach for it. I stop as I see a body walk past me and sit in the booth. It's not until I stand straight up and turn myself, to see that Ciaran is laid back with his arms stretched across the back of the booth. He's shirtless with a loose tie around his neck and cuff links on his wrists.

Ciaran has a smirk with intense eyes feasting up and down my body.

We don't speak. He watches as I move graciously up and down the pole. I had changed my outfit into a costume of a lime green crop top with witch hats imprinted all over and matching booty shorts. I let my tits spring free as I suck in a breath. Ciaran licks his lips and leans closer to me.

A few minutes later and my booty shorts are ripped off revealing a black lace thong. Ciaran's eyes skim my body, stopping at my side tattoo. I know he wants to feel me, to move his hands on every inch of my skin. I want his hands on me, too. I want his fingers to trace my body like a piece of art and his tongue to drag straight down my abdomen and plunge into my crevice.

The stage lights turn yellow, meaning our time together is up. Ciaran reaches in his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash holding it out to me.

"You have to sit it down-"

"Take. It." He demands.

I take the cash and he leaves without another word. The cash is wrapped with a rubber band with a note attached.

He gave me his phone number?

Asshole.