POV: Aria Chen"Move those hips, sweetheart! That's what we're paying for!"The voice cut through the pounding bass, and I forced my body to sway to the rhythm, ignoring the knot of disgust tightening in my stomach. The strobe lights made everything feel disjointed, flashes of leering faces, raised beer bottles, hands waving dollar bills like I was some kind of carnival prize.I wasn't a stripper. Not technically. The Velvet Room called us "entertainment dancers." We kept our clothes on, mostly. Sequined tops, short skirts, heels that made my feet scream after the first hour. It was supposed to be classier than the places down on Fifth Street.It wasn't. But it paid two hundred dollars a night, and that was exactly enough to cover Lila's medications for the week. So I smiled like my life depended on it, because in a way, it did and I danced."Come on, baby! Get closer!"Mr. Hendricks. Regular customer, always sat front and center, always too drunk by ten o'clock. His meaty hand reache
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