18 and Over

The rest of Ryder's first week had been uneventful. Thanks to Brittney's help, she was pulling an easy 500 or more on day shift. Her natural rhythm, and the skills she learned from Brit had started a nice clientele. To no one's surprise, jealousy started showing its face. Ryder was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She didn't care what any one thought. At one point, she had heard Jaslyn mumble "Lap dance...more like face dance." while staring down Brittney. Ryder knew it wasn't anything personal. Jaslyn is just an older dancer;probably in her late 40s. She still dances to 80's hair metal and sports neon for crying out loud! However, Jaslyn's comment made her think; it made her self conscious. Is that what they think of HER when she dances? She had been imitating Brittney step by step, from the over sexualised moans to face straddling customers. To make matters worse, midweek she met THEM, the Blondetarage. Headed by Ashley, an overly tanned platinum in denial of her age, and backed by beer gut, Double D Sydney and leggy cokehead Jess. Everyday was the same;they would sit at the same unavoidable table between main stage and DJ booth and snicker talking shit on the way the rest danced, dressed,etc. To them, work is not work. Work is just a social outlet. Specially for Ashley. In the outside world she is nothing, but at Girls Girls Girls she is queen bee. Outside, she has a son old enough to remind her that her time had passed, but at Girls Girls Girls, she is still a young spinner to men in their 60s. Ashley's clientele is to die for. Everyday with out fail, at least 5 men come looking for her,baring gifts,flowers,food;anything she wants.

Ryder sat on a couch near the door waiting for her next prey. She had made it a habit to get to the club at opening. Still intimidated, she mainly kept to her self. Even with Brittney, she rarely talked. One o'clock rolled around, and with that, so did the girls. By two, everyone was at their usual spots, in bikinis and laced corsets, playing the waiting game. All except for one. Ryder could see her at the bar. A girl she hadn't seen before. There was something about her that looked familiar, but in the dark, and with out her glasses, Ryder couldn't pin point it. There was something about the V cut auburn hair and the slight hunch on the girl's back that reminded her of someone. The girl let out a nasally laugh playfully slapping a hand across Robin's chest as if he had just said the funniest thing in the world. That's when the memories flooded Ryder. The girl turned and immediately spotted her. Ryder quickly dropped her gaze to her iPhone, pretending she was busy sending texts.

"Oh my gawd! Hey!" The girl said in her usual slurry voice as if too lazy to form the words correctly. She plumped her pear shaped body down next to Ryder. It had been four long years and nothing about her had changed. She looked a little more run down then before, but the partying probably caused that. London had always been a party girl; a mean one too. London Prince was Ryder's sworn enemy since seventh grade. Everything between them was always a competition...not by Ryder's choice. They shared the same friends,classes, even had crushes on the same boys. To London, Ryder was a hard pill to swallow. Ryder simply didn't understand. She was sure they could be good friends if only London would give her the chance. She never did. Instead, she threatened and bullied her until grade nine. Finally, Ryder moved away, and with that came a new school, and distance between her and London Prince.

"Hey! Long time no see." Ryder attempted to push back a frightened stutter. As if the Blondetarage wasn't enough to deal with.

" How long have you been working here?"

"Just started a week ago."

"I'm so surprised. I mean. This was never your thing. You were such a good girl. "

"Ya. " Awkward laugh. To be brutally honest, Ryder wasn't surprised that London picked this life. She had shown up belligerently drunk to class multiple times in eight grade, ninth she was all about ecstasy, fist fights behind the school and sex...lots and lots of sex; mainly with drug dealers well over the age of 18.

"What do you dance by?"

"Luna.You?"

"Paris.Wanted to keep it a city." she shrugs.

"Clever. Been here long?"

"About a month." That's right, Ryder remembers, their birth dates are close enough to share a star sign. "How do you like it?"

"It's been good."

"Worked nights yet?"

"No. Haven't really gave it much thought."

"Its amazing." Her blue eyes sparkle in the dark room. "So much money. People everywhere. Its nice coming at night and leaving just in time for the sunset." Ryder couldn't help but picture the place crowded, girls on all four poles being showered in dollar bills. Her mind's eye painted a perfect picture out of a movie scene. The glitz and glamor. The REAL side of being a stripper. Not this. Not sitting on a couch for hours on end waiting for someone to stumble in, and fighting with the rest of the lionesses for a quick meal. She pictured London in that life, and all of a sudden it became, if she can do it, why not me? Maybe Ryder had been competitive after all.