The CEO's Exclusive Dancer

Pearl POV

They always loved to give me a grand entrance. I stood behind the velvet curtains while the last dancer came back letting out a sigh of relief. Her lingerie wasn’t as complicated as mine, but then again, she hadn’t been here as long as me. She wasn’t as loved as me. The crowd was already cheering, already knowing I was next.

“And up next,” began the announcer as I rolled my shoulders back and placed my hands on the inside of the curtain, “the one you’ve been waiting for! The amazing Pear!” I threw open the curtain, arms raised and beaming to the crowd. The cheering grew louder. But I didn’t see them, not against the lights. The pole stood in front of me and I strutted towards it with full confidence. I could care less about the crowd. Their cheers and praise were amazing of course, but most of it was coming from men who just wanted me for my body. Whatever it took to get paid. That’s what I always told myself. Despite my paycheck and tips being the main reason, I did this, I did have a talent.

I grabbed the pole in front of me and began my routine. One leg around the pole and then the other. My body flowed to the beat of the pop song playing behind me. The crowd, not even ten seconds into my routine, had already started throwing singles at me. That’s how good I was. I wrapped a leg around the pole and leaned back, circling around the pole. On my last circle around, someone’s hand was around stretched trying to hand me the bill themselves.  I took it by my teeth with a playful grin and the scrunch on my nose before sliding back up against the pole and making a show of putting it in my pearly white bra. My routine continued; the cheers continued.

The lights were brightest on me and despite other dancers being at the side stages, the whole club was around me. They loved me. I began more floor-based movements next. On all fours, I began to twerk. There was one girl in the club that night. A young woman in her early twenties in a clubbing dress. She was watching me only slightly, mostly on her phone. When I caught her eye again, I bit my lip and winked. Her face turned a light pink and she went back to her phone. The men around me went crazy, even though the gesture wasn’t for them. I stood back up with a body roll and went back to the poll. I grabbed it once more and began dancing around it. With both hands on the pole, my leg went up, making a perfect line with my other leg. At the end of the first song, there was easily a good one hundred, maybe two hundred, on the floor and the larger bills that made another fifty in my bra. At the end of the day, that’s why I did what I did, the money of course. But isn’t that why every girl does it?

While one of the staff picked up my first song’s earnings I squatted down at the edge of the stage. It was such a tease for the men. They cried out love confessions, how sexy I was, how beautiful I was, how they wanted to see me with my lingerie off. I had heard it all before. But I only waved and smiled, blowing a few kisses here and there. I loved the attention, the money wasn’t half bad, but people giving me attention for once was also a great benefit. I would take any type of attention at this point, the good, the bad, all of it.

That’s when staff tapped me on the shoulder to let me know I was clear for my next song.

At the end of my night, I had enough money to pay half of the rent this week. The money tomorrow would be for the other half. While some girls used this money for extra money, to support their kids, or to pay their way through college, I just had me. Rent was expensive in the area and I didn’t have a car to travel anywhere cheaper. Plus, this place was my home, why leave?

As I started heading towards the dressing room to change out for the night, I heard my stage name being called. I turn to see a man in his upper thirties jogging towards me. He didn’t look half bad, with a buff figure and gorgeous blue eyes that would make most girls jump on him.

“Hey Pearl,” he greeted, slurring his words slightly. It probably took that alcohol to get the courage to talk to me. “I was wondering if you would want to do a private event for me and my boys this Saturday.” Oh, here we go again. “Then afterwards maybe you could give me a private session. I’d even let you stay the night if you wanted.” God. Men. They were pathetic horny assholes sometimes. Most of the time for me since I worked at a strip club.

“No thanks,” I replied with a pleasant but fake smile. “I don’t do private events.” And I don’t fuck men. But I kept that bit to myself.

“I’ll give you five hundred,” the man pleaded.

“I’m sorry the answer is still no.”

“A thousand.”

“No. Now leave before I call security.” The man’s face twisted into a frown.

“Fuck you,” he said before spitting at my feet and stumbling off.

“Fuck you too,” I muttered before heading into the dressing room.

“Hey Pearl,” one of the girls greeted.

“Great show Pearl,” another said. But the rest were silent.  I didn’t expect much from the audience. They didn’t even know my real name. But I expect more from my stripper sisters. Maybe they were just jealous and that’s why they were hardly acknowledging me and just using my stage name. But I have an actual name, it’s Grace Smith.