cherry [fezco]

0.1

Juniper chuckled lightly in agreement. "Yeah, you're right."

Rue flipped onto her side to be able to look at Juniper. "Oh yeah?" She asked, gaining the other's eye contact. "what's yours then, 'little miss perfect,'"

Juniper scoffed. "I am so not perfect--"

"Sure you aren't," Rue argued back playfully. "Come on! It can't be any worse than mine."

"Okay," Juniper pushed herself into a sitting position, watching Rue follow suit. "Okay, fine," She huffed and leaned in close to whisper into Rue's ear. She sat and listened for a second before letting her jaw drop slightly.

"No fucking way," Rue shook her head as she closed her eyes for a second. "There's no fucking way!"

Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, Juniper would sneak out of her window with a small backpack filled with sweet smelling perfumes, makeup, hair accessories, and outfits that she bought off amazon with her first ever debit card. And when the sun came back up the hillside, she would sneak back in with the same materials, plus a wad of delicately counted cash.

Juniper worked at a club, and was the best pole dancer The Tarot had seen in a while-- though Juniper preferred the term exotic dancer. She wasn't ashamed to be working at a club. She made fast cash and was always showered in compliments, but the situation wasn't an ordeal. Juniper needed to start saving up for an apartment, and plus, she needed money to get by. Her mom wasn't bringing in enough for the both of them, she knew that.

She had turned 18 at the beginning of the summer, and was new to dancing in front of an audience. Juniper kept her job a secret from everyone, not because she was ashamed, but because she was scared of what other people would think of her.

People were open with their opinions--really open-- and a lot of those people hated the thought of exotic dancers. They thought they were dirty, sluts, any other name they could think of. Juniper had been called things that made her not proud of working at The Tarot, and it was part of the reason she stopped telling people where she worked-- but she knew they didn't understand. They didn't understand the way her heart calmed the moment the red and purple fluorescent lights touched her skin. They didn't understand how her mind cleared and all she had to focus on was her body and the way it moved.

Despite being many of the customer's favorite, Juniper had her rules.

1: No one could ask her to remove her mask.

For secrecy reasons, Juniper wore a red, silk mask over her nose and mouth so her customers could only see her eyes. Like I said, the situation wasn't an ordeal.

2: No sex

No matter how much a customer was offering, Juniper still had her morals. She would give lap dances occasionally, if she needed the extra cash, but she never went further than that. Sex was never really a special interest of Juniper's anyways.

And finally, the most important rule: No one could touch her unless she said so.

Constant was important, and she only let people touch her in the backrooms. Juniper made this rule her first week on the job, but didn't need to heavily enforce it until the beginning of August when an older guy got a little too drunk. He ended up putting his hands on her, and grabbed her off her stage. She told me it was the most scared she had ever felt-- though she would go on to meet someone who would change her life. For the worse or better, we still don't know.

Juniper felt his fingerprints etched into her skin, and could already see the plum bruises that would stain for the next few days. Her body froze the moment his hand reached out and entered the small pool of light that laid on her stage.