002

Nicole Harper

~•~

“You’ve been saying next week for months now, Nicole,” my landlord, a gruff man with a round face, said. “How am I supposed to trust you when you’ve repeatedly betrayed that trust?”

Betraying his trust was a bit dramatic because I just didn’t have any money, but he had been accommodating. I didn’t think any other home owner would let me stay in their room for four months without paying.

“I know, Greg, and I’m really sorry, but I’m certain this time. If I don’t pay next week, you can kick me out and throw my things in the street without notice!”

His lips thinned, eyeing me carefully. “I would throw you out after next week anyway.”

My smile was tight. “I deserve it.”

He let out a breath. “You’re a student and I don’t want to be cruel to you, so find a way to pay up okay?”

I nodded. “Yes sir.”

As he left, the door closing behind him, I let out a relieved breath.

I was just coming back from classes when he ambushed me by the door and asked for my rent once again. I felt guilty that I’d delayed his payment for so long and I wouldn’t wish my position on anyone.

I dragged my feet to my room, walking past two of my roommates, who didn’t even spare me a glance. We were four in total, including me and Clara. I spoke to Clara occasionally, but as for the other two, I hadn’t spoken to them in years, mostly because on their first day, I spoke to them and they didn’t respond.

I closed my room door and dropped my backpack on the ground. Then I took off my clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. I had an objectively nice body. It looked good in my underwear so it was bound to look better in sexy lingerie. If I did agree to the opportunity Clara offered me, the men would find me attractive, right?

My straight blonde hair was long and silky. It was the one feature I was the most proud of.

I walked over to my closet and pulled out a pair of heels that I hadn’t worn in a few months before going back to the mirror. Why the hell did the heels make my underwear sexier?

The first thing I did was a split to check my flexibility. I gasped in surprise. My thighs didn’t hurt. I guess I wasn’t too bad after all.

Before I could process it, I tapped on a random song and started dancing.

The music filled the room and I started slowly. A roll of the hips first, then I lifted my hands above my head like I was reaching for something. I dropped low, thighs parting, then rose again in a slow grind. My reflection stared back at me, my cheeks already flushed from the quick movement.

Muscle memory kicked in harder. I wasn’t perfect but I wasn’t that rusty either. A few more practices in front of the mirror and I’d be as good as new.

One song passed, then another. During the third song, a knock on the door pulled me away from the mood I was in. Without thinking twice, I opened the door.

It was Clara. Her eyes fell on me and her jaw dropped. That was when I realized I was still in my underwear and heels.

I closed the door immediately. I heard her chuckle behind the door as I searched my closet for something to wear. I threw on the first pair of joggers I found as well as a shirt before I opened the door again.

Clara couldn’t stop laughing as she came in. My cheeks reddened. “What’s so funny?”

“You haven’t told me yes yet, but you're already practicing?” She questioned, still laughing. “I’ll take that as your answer then?”

I didn’t answer. I was too embarrassed to.

“You have a very nice figure though. I wouldn’t be able to tell under all those clothes. Are you sure you don’t want to strip full-time?”

My cheeks were still warm as I replied. “The point of joining you for the night is for quick money. I don’t want to get distracted.”

If I’d known I’d struggled this much, I would have spent my last summer break in the strip club. I paused. Did that make me sound like a whore? Whatever.

“You’re sure you won’t regret your decision?” She asked, finally turning serious.

It was just stripping. There was nothing to regret. I wasn’t a morality police. I wouldn’t even consider myself a moral person. As long as I wasn’t hurting anyone with my decision, I didn’t mind doing it. Stripping for one night wouldn’t take anything from me. It was nothing to be worried about.

Besides, Clara had told me the other day that we would wear masks for anonymity. We even had to sign NDA’s and all that stuff. The only effect a high-profile stripping gig would have on my life would be a positive one.

“I won’t regret it. It’s one night.” I assured her.

She nodded, a bit proud. “Alright then. I’ll let you know the details later.” She turned to leave, but paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Sometimes, these private gigs lead to sex.” I opened my mouth to speak but she didn’t let me. “You can decline, I promise. I just wanted you to know so you’re not taken by surprise. If anyone asks for a private dance, that’s likely what they mean. Just shake your head if you’re not interested.”

It wasn’t like I was against sex for money, but I never wanted to be in a position where I’d be forced to have sex just because I went to dance on a pole. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. My boss checks his clients properly before putting them in our care. Besides,” she leaned in to whisper like it was a secret, “–these men are billionaires who wouldn’t want such a scandal.”

That reassured me a bit. “Do you usually go all the way?”

Her smile was coy. “It depends?”

“On?”

“How urgently I need money or how hot the man is.”

“Oh!” I blinked, unable to reply to that.

“You’re cute.” She laughed. “I wonder how we lived together for four years without being friends.”

I faked a pout. “We aren’t?”

“Now, we are!”

I’d been pretty depressed in the last week, but right now, I was feeling a bit better. There was hope that I wouldn’t be thrown out. There was hope that I could finally settle some of my bills.