Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 614(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Some might think of stripping as degrading, Mel considered it empowering. She enjoyed the time she had spent on stage. She enjoyed working with her fellow dancers. She still did. Only now it was in a different capacity that included support and guidance. “I worked my way up from the stage to management.”
When his eyebrows hiked their way almost to his hairline, she noted that his gorgeous hair, besides being red, was full, thick and not receding. Her guess was he was somewhere in his thirties.
“You were a stripper?”
She could see his wheels turning, like he was trying to picture her on stage. “Was. For the first five years. So, when I talk about taking the time to be kind, I speak from experience. Once I discovered it by accident, I made it a habit. I’ve also pushed that same mentality for the last five years I’ve been managing the place. I want to see both the girls and the club do well.”
Or she did. While she still wanted only the best for the girls, her feelings about The Peach Pit were quickly changing. Though, she hoped the success of the club continued until she could find somewhere else to work. She couldn’t afford to be unemployed, even for a short amount of time.
She wasn’t worried about her current stable of dancers. They all were skilled and professional enough that none would have a problem finding a job dancing at another club. Maybe even a better one. When the club changed hands, most of them only stayed solely due to Mel.
Some had even declared that if she left, so would they.
“You liked it.”
His conclusion brought her focus back to the parking lot. “I used to love it.” And that was completely true. Pole work was great exercise and to get paid to stay in shape? To love your own body and be proud of it? Yes, she loved it back then, but even now she still loved to help the new dancers get comfortable in their own skin, too.
Weirdly, dancing on a pole had been a freeing experience after growing up in a very strict, conservative family. She started stripping to put herself through college because she didn’t want to be saddled with debt. She stayed for the money and because she appreciated the art and athleticism behind it. Dancing on any stage, whether while removing clothes or not, was an art form when done right and it built confidence, if you didn’t have an abundance of it to begin with.
You were completely exposed on stage. You could hide nothing but your thoughts and your most intimate places.
His brow furrowed deep. “What does that mean?”
Did he really care or was he only showing interest because he wanted something more? “The club changed hands recently. Unfortunately, other things have changed, too.”
“By you saying ‘unfortunately,’ I’ll assume it was for the worse.”
“And you would be correct.”
“Too bad. Especially if you loved your job.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal, but to her, it actually was one. If the former owner, Laura, hadn’t been chased away, Mel might have stayed until retirement, if she didn’t end up buying a club of her own first. Or if Laura had wanted to retire—in her own time and on her own terms—Mel would’ve considered buying her out and taking over The Peach Pit’s ownership, instead, since it was an established club she was more than familiar with. In fact, it was something they had discussed a few times, but that option was quickly thrown aside once the Demons became a dangerous menace and forced Laura to sell to them to save herself. But that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have late at night out in the dark behind the club with a stranger.
“I’ve been thinking about a change, but until I find something that pays me just as good or better, I have no choice but to stick with it.” For at least as long as I can bear it. “It’s not like I have a great resume since I started stripping not long after I turned eighteen.”
“And you’re…”
“Not eighteen anymore.”
She could see him doing the math in his head. It was time to go before he asked more questions. “Okay, I need to get home.”
“You have someone waiting?”
“I do.”
He waited for her to explain. She didn’t. Again, she didn’t know him and she’d already shared enough.
“You okay to drive?”
She smiled at what sounded like genuine concern. “Yes, I nursed my drinks all night. I couldn’t hit them too hard and still manage the club with a clear head.”
Yes, he seemed to be a nice guy… However, first impressions weren’t always correct since they were based on shallow assumptions. She learned that lesson a long time ago, too, just like the lesson about being kind to those who were unable to be generous.