Jezebel |h.s|

Nine

The drive goes by faster than I expected, mainly because of how anxious I felt. A part of me considered just turning around and saying forget about it. It's not like anyone knew I was supposed to be here, nobody would miss me if I just didn't show up. But deep down I just knew I couldn't chicken out of this.

After I pay for the ride, I walk a couple blocks in the direction of the club, letting a deep breath out as I approach. Here goes nothing. Handing over the $30 cover fee, I slip through the door and keep my head low. Being here alone is a bit intimidating.

My first stop is at the bar, needing all the liquid courage I can get for the night. As I wait for my drink to be poured, my eyes scour the place for any sign of Isabella or the owner. Neither of them are on the main floor, but the night is still young. With my drink in hand, I find a spot right near the stage, sitting down as the girl up there finishes her little dance. None of the girls are in western gear tonight.

The girl, Angel, leaves the stage and as if by some miracle Jezebel is announced to be coming on next. My heart pounds, especially since I know she'll see me this time. I just pray that she doesn't get pissed at me for being here. I also hope I don't have to put money in her tits or something. She's my daughter's dance teacher and I have to be able to look her in the eyes come Wednesday at the dance studio.

As I look around again, I see the owner walking out of the same door he stormed into last time I was here. I watch as he finds a seat right at the front of the stage and sinks into it, ready to watch Isabella perform. Just by the way he sits, I know this guy is bad news. Sure, he does own the place, but there's something more sinister there.

Isabella comes onto the stage and my mind goes blank. The second her set starts, my eyes are locked on her. The sparkly red lingerie compliments her complexion so perfectly and only proves that she is the star of this show. It's nearly impossible for me to keep my eyes at a respectful level, and even though I try my hardest, they still wander down her curves and legs. Last week she was definitely more revealing, but her outfit leaves very little to the imagination still.

I almost forget that I know her, that my daughter knows her. That is until her big brown eyes land on me. She keeps it professional, continuing her routine as if nothing's changed, but I can't help but feel like I just got busted. I hold it together, taking a sip from my Old Fashioned while she continues as if I have the confidence to be here. She doesn't have to know I feel like running out.

Throughout her entire routine she avoids me, never once getting close enough where I would have to give her money, which I appreciate. But her eyes stay focused on me the whole time, as if this entire routine is just for me. She has me right in the palm of her hand, hypnotized as I watch her on the pole. Toward the end of her routine, I cave, pulling out my wallet and taking out a hundred dollar bill. Holding the bill out for her between two fingers, my jaw sets.

A devilish smirk plays on her red lips as she collects money from the other men surrounding the stage, walking over to me last. She gets down onto her knees, leaning forward with her hands on the small table that separates me from the stage. Our eyes are locked on each other, as if there's nobody else in this club. "Do it." She whispers.

I lean forward now, our faces mere inches apart. I keep my eyes on her as I fold up the bill and slip it into her bra strap, right over her tattoo. I can't help but smirk back at her, leaning back in my seat once she backs away. Her music ends and she's back on her feet, going backstage without a second look in my direction.

Downing the rest of my drink, I let my leg bounce with nerves. Knowing her she'll probably try to give me back the money or something, which I definitely won't take. She could put it toward another kid's tuition for the month for all I care, but it's hers. She's on the clock and I'm a paying customer. Either that or she'll just avoid me for the rest of the night. I hope it's the latter since I don't want to face her before my boner goes away.