Blinded By The City Lights.

The day I left my hometown is one I’ll always regret. My plan to ‘follow’ the music was the worst idea I’ll have ever. The city wasn’t anything like I had hoped for.

“You’re up next,” Andy - a dark haired stage hand - told me before walking off, a clipboard in hand and full of his own self-importance.

I sighed and took one final drag of my joint before putting it out with my stiletto clad foot. One more burn mark wouldn’t make much difference to the already filthy floor. This place was a dump but a job was a job and I couldn’t afford to miss any more rent payments.

The music started up once more, El Tango de Roxanne from the movie Moulin Rouge, and I took my first steps from behind the curtains and onto the stage. I felt physically sick. Here I was, a twenty one year old girl from a small town stuck parading around a stage in heels and a bikini for the enjoyment of sleazy old me who couldn’t get any. Yeah, the city was real classy.

I danced across the small, rickety stage and winked suggestively at a man in the front row who leered at me in return. I let myself feel numb to the sweaty hands that mauled my bare skin and slipped notes into my tiny bikini bottoms. Every night was the same story and even after three years of it, it still made me ill.

When I left Oak Vale I had intended to follow the music . I wanted to be in a band, or at least date a guy who was in one. Instead I ended up stuck in a dirty city working in a seedy, dirty strip club.

I shook my head and dismissed all thoughts as I concentrated solely on my job. I stepped down from off the stage and made my way to the back of the club. In my three years working here I had learned where to find the big spenders. The old, sleazy men who were single - and probably always will be - sat at the front of the stage gawking at your every move and only gave you a dollar or two. But, if you really wanted to make some money, you headed to the tables at the back. The business men in their work suits with tan-lined ring fingers sat there and they appreciated the attention I gave them.

I strutted past table of men, none of them catching my eye, but then I saw him . Unlike post of the men who visited the club he practically oozed confidence. It was like he knew he could have any girl he wanted and, as I checked him, I realised he could. His head turned and his hazel eyes caught mine. They glittered in the club lights and my heart skipped a beat. He was absolutely beautiful and I wondered why he was here. The reason didn’t really matter though, all that mattered was that he became mine for the night.
Feeling a little like a school girl with a crush, I all but skipped to him. He smiled up at me and the dimples in his cheeks made him look a lot younger than before. I took a deep breath and straddled his lap.

“Hey babe,” I purred in his ear and nibbled at the lobe.

He shivered beneath me and placed his hands on my dainty hips as he started to grind against them.

“I’m Shadows,” He moaned in my ear as I let my hand travel south.

He began to thrust upwards, looking for some attention from my hand and I willingly obliged. I grabbed him roughly through the thick material of his jeans and his breathing became shallow and erratic. He slipped some notes into my tiny underwear.

I leaned into his neck and bit down hard enough to bruise - my trademark move - and whispered softly in his ear, “You can call me Cherry Razor.”

I stood up and left him sitting there, telling myself I was satisfied because I got my money. But leaning up against the door backstage, my heart thumping like crazy in my chest, I wanted nothing more than to run back into his arms and finish what I had started.