“I should have never had the fourth glass of wine,” I said regretfully on a long sigh. After finishing my first shift, I’d retreated to the dressing room to cool down and change clothes. Club Sin had more action on the floor than I’d seen in weeks.
“Serves you right,” Daphne said with a cackle, flipping her bright red hair back. Although calling it red would be stretching the truth since it resembled the color of a sweet potato.
“I made five hundred dollars on one dance alone from the men at the tip rail. They really like it when I wear these panties,” I said, shaking my hips and creating a ripple of movement from the beads strung along them.
I never got all the way nude onstage, and I earned higher tips when I wore a semisheer top or bra instead of going topless, which I never did anymore. For me, it was more about the performance than the act of nudity. Let the other girls get down and dirty, but I left the men wanting more. A few years ago, I bought a full latex suit that didn’t show any skin outside of my face, hands, and feet. The men could barely stay seated and paid extra to touch the material. You learn things as you go—that sometimes you don’t have to give all of yourself away to get what you need in life.
I dabbed my face with a towel and sat down in front of the mirror to count out my money. “Whoever let the Chitahs in tonight should be fired.”
“They’re usually our best customers,” Daphne said, her voice raucous. She put out her cigarette in a black ashtray. “They have more respect for women than most of those nimrods.”
I waved a dollar bill. “One guy tipped me a Washington and told me to get another job.”
“Oh, baby. I’m so glad you said something. I’ve got zero tolerance for cheapskates.” Daphne blotted her lips with more Extreme Red and fluffed her short hair.
The dancers were a mix of different Breeds, but the majority were Shifters like me. In the Breed world, our only talent was shifting into an animal, which couldn’t earn us money in any practical way. Relics were born with innate knowledge, which meant job security from birth as a healer, advisor, or researcher. They earned an exceptional income and often worked for the same immortals as their parents had, establishing clientele that were passed down through each generation. Sensors were like a vending machine of sorts where a person paid them for an emotional experience. Some customers wanted to relive emotions from a time in their life, while others lived vicariously through the experiences of others. Most Chitahs worked as investigators because of their keen sense of smell, and they had the good sense not to allow their sisters to sling beer or strip on a pole. The Chitah strippers I’d known never got high tips from Chitah males, and in some cases their routines would start a fight in the club. Chitahs didn’t like to see their women degrading themselves, as they put it.
I called it paying the bills.
No one had forced me into this lifestyle, and to be honest, I was good at it. Most dance clubs had high standards and expected the girls to be exceptional dancers, performers, and actresses. I didn’t want to do it forever, but I had serpentine moves that men had been ogling for years. Why not charge them to look? High-paying jobs weren’t easy to come by for Shifters, and sometimes a girl has to make tough choices. I lived a respectable life otherwise—probably one of the most celibate girls in the club. I was very selective of my men; that’s one piece of me I didn’t give away to just anyone.
“Ugh! Fawn is bleeding their wallets dry,” a bright voice exclaimed from the doorway.
Skye still had on her street clothes and slung her purse in a metal locker.
“What’s going on?” Daphne asked, her voice edged with concern. “I’m next, and you’re freaking me the hell out, girl.”
“She’s pulling out all the stops with an old Pussycat Dolls song. I think she stole Naya’s lollipop theme that was so popular two years ago. Remember that, Naya?”
Boy, did I! The men had eaten it up.
Literally.
“Well, good for her,” I said, sorting my tips.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve already been up.” Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Hellfire! Now I have to come up with something good.”
I tucked my money away in my silver clutch. “The nurse act is getting a little old, Daph. These men don’t want to be taken care of like an invalid. You should stop visiting the human clubs for ideas.”