Stuck In A Debt

Clara’s POV

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply into the warm breeze mixed with the reek of alcohol. I knew it wasn't my first time strip dancing, but I felt my legs heavy and numb, as though it were my first.

I had strip danced multiple times and had tried to perfect all the moves, even pushing myself further to practice ballet so I could be more flexible when dancing on the pole. And yet, I felt I wasn't ready for the performance tonight.

Tonight was another session where I would strip dance half-naked in front of men old enough to be my father. It was my job—a responsibility I had to abide by—or else I would face consequences that could lead to death itself.

Months back, I was deceived, betrayed, and used by my boyfriend, which later got me into this mess—working as a stripper in order to pay back a debt I knew nothing of.

Alaric, my boyfriend, borrowed a huge sum of money from a crime boss, and now I was the repayment. If I failed to do as the boss said, I would face brutal consequences. Though I haven't seen the main boss even once, all I knew about him was that he was ruthless, heartless, inhuman—and wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in my head if I refused to work and pay off the debt.

I had no choice. I had to stick to the deal and remain a stripper until I paid off the entire debt. But it seemed impossible because the money was too large to even mention.

It could take me decades or even more before I could pay it off because my pay was very frustrating.

"Clara, why the hell are you delaying? Your audience is waiting, and you're here lost in your thoughts again," a voice snapped and instantly dragged me out of my reverie. It was so deep that it made me flinch.

The voice that almost jolted my mind out of reality was Derick's. He worked as a bouncer at the strip club, and I guessed it was his job to remind me of my terror—a hobby I hated doing.

"I won’t come back here to inform you again. You have to get yourself out of those foolish thoughts of yours and get to work, or else you know what comes after this," Derick warned. His eyes were so frightening and serious that my body trembled in fear.

"Sorry, I’ll quickly dress up and get myself on stage," I replied, then quickly put on my shirt and applied some makeup to look good. If not, I wouldn't earn money for the day. I needed to look good so I could attract more people to spray money on me—and so I’d have enough to submit for the debt repayment.

I stared at the mirror. I could see and feel my eyes welling up with tears, threatening to fall. But I had to snap out of it and look happy so my makeup wouldn’t be ruined.

I walked out of the room at the back of the stage. As I stepped on stage, I gasped. Taking a step forward, all eyes were on me. I felt nervous and scared at the same time, but I had no choice but to do the needful.

My hands softly gripped the pole. I inhaled into my lungs before exhaling. I tilted my head and my hair swayed gracefully in the air; I seductively arched my waist and my fluffy ass bounced with my feet.

My hands rolled down the iron pole, and my body moved with it.

My audience stared at me hungrily, saliva dripping from their mouths like they would devour me in any second, and that was what I needed.

That attention!

That craving!

And to keep them engaged, I had to do more.

I grabbed the body oil I had come with, and with every pour on my skin, I moved my hands gracefully with it—gracefully and gently. Biting my lips, I touched every part of my body, squeezing my breasts, and even slapping my butt.

Every movement was seductive; every touch was sensitive, just enough to make a man c*m in his panties.

Dollars rained down on me from my audience, and for the very first time, I was happy for the job I do.

"Yes, that’s it—arch that ass."

"Damn, that lady is sexy as fuck."

"How much for a night?"

The men watching me shouted eagerly with different offers, but I wasn't an escort.

I was sprayed with a lot of money, and I guessed today was one lucky day. I hadn’t gotten so much attention since I began this job. Or perhaps, was it because I wasn't applying passion when doing it before?

And while in the middle of the stripping session, my eyes caught a man staring at me. His blue, predatory eyes locking onto mine were overwhelmingly frightening, and I could feel a knot twist in my stomach.

He didn’t seem moved by all I was doing. All the other men wanted to touch me, but he was seated separately, sipping from a glass of alcohol. His aura was different, and there was something unique about him I couldn’t quite figure out.

Was it his cold expression? Was it his blue, frightening eyes?

"Who could he be?" I thought to myself.

Well, I cared less. All that mattered now was how I had caught a lot of attention and been sprayed with plenty of money already.

After I was done with my stripping session, I walked back to the room behind the stage.

I sat on the couch, letting out a deep sigh of relief filled with happiness. My hands were filled with the money I had secured from my performance, and my bra was stuffed with another set of it. I was happy—at least I earned a lot today. Maybe enough to touch a tiny part of the debt that could make a difference from other days.

I began to count the money I earned for the day, and while doing that, Derick came into the room and tossed a bag in front of me before saying coldly, "I wouldn't want to say much. You know what to do."

"Please give me a minute to count the money so I can be sure of what I'm submitting," I pleaded, but Derick grabbed me by the neck, almost as though wanting to pull my head right off.

And with a mocking sneer and a scoff, he said, "There's no need to count shit. You of all people know you won't be able to pay off the debt anytime soon—or ever. So stay chill and keep working like the slave you are.”

He ended the words with a burst of laughter, as though he had cracked a joke which I didn't find funny in any way. And with the bag stuffed with money he had retrive from me, he walked out the door.