Private Dancer

Private Dancer Chapter 3

Chapter 3

There's a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opens and Emory walks in.  Almost immediately he turns around shrieking a, "Oh shit dawg.  My bad!"

I'm naked, attempting my best to squeeze into some underwear when he walks in.  It's some stripper underwear with leather attached to it.  I know D said not to make my underwear too fancy but at this point, I know that I'm upgrading.  I'm going to take Ainsley up on his offer and head to the Rum and Monkey.

"What's wrong?"

"Bruh, you butt ass naked."

I look at my body in the mirror wondering if something was wrong with me.  That wasn't the case.  My body was looking right.  I had put on some muscle.  I was slim, tight and my ass was phat as far as I knew. The more I look at him the more I wonder what the fuck his issue is.

"I look good, bruh, what's your problem?"

"It's not that, it's just that?"

"You think I need to lose some weight or something."

"No you're perfect---or, fuck I mean," he is stuttering oddly in a way that I just can't quite put my finger on, "I mean you're naked bro---"

For some reason, he seems nervous.  I'm confused as all fuck.  I was used to Emory walking in a room and telling me that I need to put on some weight when he looked at my naked body or suggesting some squats or something.  He was always really hard on me when it came to things like that but this was different.  Emory has this stuck look on his eyes and he is literally avoiding eye contact with me.  His face is all flushed red and shit.

As though he was shy.  I can't put my finger on it.

That's when Roxana walks into the room.

"Did you tell him?" Roxana asks Emory.

Emory is staring at the wall hard, "I didn't get the chance..."

"What's wrong?" Roxana asks.

"We should probably give your brother a chance to get dressed," he offers.

Roxana and I look at one another.  We're both confused by this.  There were no locked doors in this house.  I'm surprised that he even knocked in the first place.  I remember there were times when Emory would walk in on me taking dick.  No questions.  No hesitations.  He'd just grab what he needed and walk about it.  That was the kind of relationship that we had.

Or at least that was the kind of relationship that we used to have.  It is hard to remember that Emory `lost his memory.'

"No reason to be shy," Roxana states, "The body is natural.  You know?"

"It's just----I---"

"It's OK," I assure him, "really."

He turns around slowly as though it's almost painful.  Emory was the one who initially taught me to love my body.  "Your body is your temple"---all that type shit that made you feel good about yourself no matter what you looked like.  It definitely helped when you got up on that stage and stripped.  I mean Emory knew he always was handsome and even if he was slim he wore it like he was the fuckin Rock or something.  Now that he actually had a body similar to the Rock's, I would have that thought that confidence was even more.

That just wasn't the case.

Emory bites on his lip.  He's looking my way at least but still avoiding eye contact or  any stares down at my dick or anything.  I might be wrong, but I swear he's staring at my forehead.

"I'm going to work at the Rum & Monkey with you," he states.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be sure?" he asks.

"Just you were so opposed to dancing for guys before."

He thinks for a minute as though trying to look for an answer before shrugging a little bit, "It's no big deal.  I don't have any sexy underwear that'll fit me."

"I'll call my friend D.  Have him bring you some over.  You guys wear the same size and he is like a stripper fashion connoisseur.   I'm sure he has a bunch he's never even touched before."

"Thanks, man..."

"Of course, you're my brother."

I walk over to him to give him a hug.  I wrap my arms around him but I watch how he quickly jumps back out of my arms, as though I was some poison or something .  For some reason, I am making him extremely uncomfortable and it's written all over his face.  I'm not making it up.  Emory literally pushed me away at this moment.

"Can you not?" he asks.

"What?  Why?"

"You're naked."

He's mentioned this before.

I'm confused, "Um, cool.  My bad man."

"I should...I should head downstairs," he states.

He leaves without saying another word and I'm watching him go.  He was being so fucking odd.  I look back over at Roxana and she has this huge smile on her face for some weird fucking reason.

"Is that not weird to you?" I ask.

She shrugs, "What are you talking about?"

"Your fucking husband not even hugging me.  I'm always the one pushing Emory off of me."

Emory was just one of those guys that were really affectionate.  If he cared about you, you knew about it---period.  I remember all the guys I dated that were intimidated by the fact that whenever we were out on a double date he'd put his arm over my shoulder.  Of course, Roxana was always used to it and knew it was just Emory being himself but the guys always thought our relationship was `weird'.

"Things are new for him," Roxana assures me, "It's not a big deal.  Just short term memory loss."

"Roxana his entire personality is off.  He is almost uncomfortable around nudity.  That's not Emory."

Emory had been a stripper his whole adult life.  Nudity was what he was.  How the fuck was it that he lost that memory?

Roxana looks irritated.

"What's your fucking problem?"

Oh great.  The bitch was coming out.

"Sis---it's not that big of a deal.  I'm just saying I'm concerned about Emory."

"You need to be fuckin concerned about how we going to pay these bills, Sherlock.  How about you solve that motherfuckin' mystery.  I'm three months behind in rent.  I'm pregnant, you know that right?"

Pregnant.  No insurance.  No maternity leave.  It was tough.  When you been through the shit we went through together it's easy to realize how Roxana has a bit to be concerned about.

I tease her though trying to lighten up the mood, "No shit---thought you were just bloated."

Roxana gives me one of her bitchy looks.  It's damn near classic at this point.

"So how about you act like you have responsibility?  Your nephew is coming.   Emory is willing to go work at a top-selling club.  What's the problem?"

Fuck.

She had a point.

Emory was acting weird but right now we were just going to have to give him space and time he needed to return to himself.  I was just curious though wondering if something happened to him while he was gone.  Where had he even gone?  There were so many questions.

=================================================================

The club is exactly how I imagined it would be.  We get too dark lights with the red gilded lights that read the Rum & Monkey. There are security guards all around it.  It's a tucked away hole-in-the-wall that looks almost run down on the outside.  That is until we get to the inside.

"We made it!" a voice states.

I turn and see D standing there.  I give him a hug.  D has on his usual friendly smile.  I can see why he's excited.  As we enter we realize the Rum and Monkey has this grand staircase that leads just down, down, down.  The elaborate staircases look expensive and almost lavish.  I look over at Emory.  He's looking around.  He sticks out like a sore thumb.

"D, this is Emory---my brother," I state.

"The famous, Emory," D states, "Heard a lot about you."

Emory looks surprised, "You did?"

"Yeah, Berlin never stops talking about you," he states, "How great you are.  How he is who he is because of you.  I have to admit, you're gonna be some competition, I see.  You didn't say he looked like that?"

I'm a little bit embarrassed D is putting me on blast the way he is. It's not because of what he says, it's how Emory reacts.  Emory smiles a little bit in this awkward way and stares at me flashing me a smile.

"I'm OK," Emory states.

"Humble too," D laughs, "You better shake that shit off man.  Here."

D hands him a bag.  I know it's the underwear I asked him to bring for Emory.

"I'm wearing this?" Emory asks.

"Yeah."

Emory holds up the underwear.  If I didn't know better I would think he was horrified.  I mean it was sexy underwear.  A slim all black brief that was extra small.  He holds up the fabric as though showing how it's almost see-through.

"Sexy right," D said, "We're going to make an impression.  We going to run this motherfucker.  I got two sexy ass friends with me.  Man, we gonna make it BIG!"

D could care less about stripping for guys.  He wanted to make it big.  I look at Emory.  I'm a little concerned.

"You OK?" I ask him.

"Ehh----"

He's hesitant.  I don't like it.

"Listen to me Emory.  If you want to go home.  That's OK.  I won't blame you.  You just went through god knows what.  Maybe you should take some time off. You know?  I think I'd be able to make enough money to help pay the bills and help Roxana."

"You guys coming?" D asks.

D has already started to descend the stairs to the Rum and Monkey with a huge smile on his face.

I look over at Emory.

"I have to do this...I have to," he states.

I want to ask him why but I don't get the chance.   Maybe he isn't aware that the money potential here is high enough where he didn't really have to do it.  I could do this and help out around the house until he was ready to come back to work for real.

We keep walking down the steps and that's where we meet Ainsley.  Ainsley has a smile on his face, "You came?"

D is the one who shakes his hand first but he's not talking to D.  Ainsley's eyes are set on me.  He licks his lips a little bit in a way that I don't understand completely.

"Yeah.  I wanted to apologize for thinking you had something to do with Emory disappearing," I state.

Ainsley shakes his head, "Of course, I get it. You were worried..."

The "Underground" to an entirely new level. The club is actually entirely underground. There's no website and most find out about it through a friend. Unassuming to a passerby, you'd never know that the entrance was the gateway to one of the most high-end strip clubs in the city.  As we walk through I can see a few early patrons coming in.  No dancers were there.  Not yet at least.  It was empty.  Almost as though it was like the calm before a storm or something.

Lux

"Get the fuck off my station."

I grab Thiago, The Heat, Rodriguez and pull him off my station.  I swipe off the Kibbles and Bits he has off of my station onto the floor and watches him scramble to pick it up.  Kibbles and bits were basically the street term for small crumbles of crack.  Crack was a cheap drug though.

"What's your problem?"  Hitter asks.

Hitter was my best friend in the club.  The only guy I really hung out with.  He walks over and sits down.

"Got a bad feeling," I state, "You ever just got a bad feeling?"

"I got that work."

"That's what I'm talkin' bout."

He hands me the baggy of my best friend.  Cocaine.  It was glamorous.  Easy.  Made me feel like my heroes.  Such hero-worshipped figureheads of cool as Kate Moss, Axl Rose, Lindsay Lohan, and Alice Dellal ran through my head.  Make me cool, Cocaine.  Ease my fucking nerves. I look over my shoulder and see Thiago wanting a bump but I'm not going to give it to him.   I hand Hitter my money at that moment. Then again, it's also synonymous with those sleazy, handsy kinds of douches who wear dinner jackets with Converse and lurk around every club or party, trying to get wide-eyed young girls to touch their dicks with offers of free bumps.

"You know I got that other shit..."

"Other shit?"

"Butt naked," he states, "Something I know your sexy ass is used to."

Hitter flirts heavy all the time.  Had a threesome with a client with him one time.  The guy wanted to see Hitter eat my ass.  Hitter liked it so much that he spent almost two straight hours doing it.  I should have stopped him.  Should have known then that this sweet ass got guys addicted.

Hitter was attractive.  I had to give him that. He's real thug looking.  He had this nice body, handsome face and these sexy ass bubble lips that he licked every chance he got.  Most of the bottom clients came in wanting a private lap dance from Hitter. Michael B. Jordan clone type guy, except he was just all the way hood.  He also happened to be the local supplier.

"Can I get some Hitter?" Thiago asks.

"Fuck outta here," Hitter says, "This ain't for you.  This for my baby."

Thiago was used to getting disrespected.  He was the youngest stripper we had.  He was OK looking slim guy.   When he started he had a lot more muscle but he lost that quickly.  Most likely because he was a junkie.  We called him the garbage disposal.  Reason being is that Thiago was the kind of guy who did the low-end lap dances for the guys who came with the big money makers.  These rich guys always had a cousin, a brother, or overall some tag along that wasted our times.  Thiago was the guy who would entertain them.  Every good strip club needed a garbage disposal.  Keep the tag-alongs busy while the real heavy hitters made the real money.

"Butt naked?"

"You know PCP?  Makes you get butt naked."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

He shrugs, "Some people say it gets you real hot.  Other people say it's because you get uncomfortable like something crawling on your skin."

"Don't sound fun..." I shrug, "I'll pass.'

"Suit yourself.  This high is unlike anything you've ever felt..."

He was always trying to put me onto some new shit.  We're sitting there discussing drugs when Wet Willy walks in.   Wet Willy is the biggest guy in the club.  He's husky in the most uncomfortable sort of way.  I just thought he was too big muscle wise but you would be surprised how much money he made off of the muscle worshippers that walked in this place.

"You guys heard?" he asks.

"Heard what?" Hitter asks Willy.

"Ainsley hired three new guys..."

I roll my eyes, "No the hell he didn't."

Willy was also the local gossiper.  For all the muscle and ridiculous veins popping out most likely from his addiction to steroids, he is a big ass queen.  One of those gym bunnies that used his muscles to hide the messy faggot underneath.  This wouldn't be the first time he came here talking about some bullshit.

"Real talk girl."

"I'm not a girl, bitch.  And who the fuck are these boys?" I ask.

"They are in his office.  I walked by.  Think they are doing a private rehearsal for him."

"Everybody knows Ainsley don't make a decision without Lux," Hitter corrects Willy.

"Well, things change.  One of the guys is so fuckin FINE!  Bitch, he could bend me over anyway. I didn't get his name though.  He was so damn shy.  Then there was this loud ass straight boy named D.  The other guy...he was cute enough.  Nice little ass on him.  Think his name was...eh...damn...what was his name?"

"Spit it out, Willy."

"Barry.  But I think he goes by Berlin or something."

Barry.

Shit.

I get up at that moment.  This wasn't going to work. This wasn't to work at all.  I jump to my feet at that moment and feel a little awkward at the thought of this.  I was going to shut this shit down NOW.

~

"He's busy," Eddie is saying.

I've found my way to Ainsley's office.  Eddie is Ainsley's head of security.  He doesn't like me because I snitched when I found Thiago sucking his dick one time in the bathroom.  Eddie was fired and just recently brought back on for next to nothing.  So I can tell he uses what little power he has being head of security to pull his weight around.

"You're going to move," I state, "Or I'm going to tell Ainsley about how you stuck your dick in that glory hole in the changing room."

"I didn't..."

"Do you think he's going to believe that with your history?"

Eddie thinks about it.

"I'll tell Ainsley you're out here waiting for him."

Eddie is smart.  He knew just like the rest of them knew.  Lux ran this club.  Simple as that.  It has always been the case and it would always be the case.  The fact that Ainsley thought he could hire THREE guys without me knowing was one thing.  It was another thing entirely if he thought that he was going to get Barry.   I don't know what Ainsley's thing was with Barry but I did know that it was coming to a quick end.

Ainsley walks out at the next minute.

"What the hell is this?" Ainsley asks, "I'm about to have an audition..."

"Without me?"

"I told you I was bringing new boys in," he states, "You must have been on that stuff.  Had the same look in your eyes."

"Man even if I was high, I would have remembered."

"This ain't the first time you forgettin' something I told you.  You might want to clean your nose.  Got a little left over."

I wipe my nose at that moment.  He was Always trying to put someone on blast and I wasn't here for it.

"Ainsley, baby----even if you get new guys, why choose Barry?"

"What's your problem with Barry?  What happened that night?"

I pause.  I hadn't told Ainsley about what happened.  I couldn't have.  The Saudis would have killed me if I told anyone what the hell had gone down that night with the Prince going too far with Barry's brother-in-law and killing him.

"Nothing.  I just don't like the kid."

"Well, I do," he states, "Besides it seemed like a good night.  One of those foreign guys keeps leaving messages for you.  Supposedly they are back in town.  Some business deal.  Clearly, he wants to see you."

"Nasim?"

"Yeah what's the deal with that?"

"Bae---it ain't shit.  You know I love you right?  That's what this is about.  You on some jealous shit?"

"You still fucking these guys on the side?"

I shake my head, "Naw---hell no.  I wouldn't do that.  All we did was dance.  I don't know why he keeps hitting me up.  He must have just enjoyed the dance we did.  That's all."

"If that's the case then it wouldn't matter if I bring those two boys back then.  Since our clients enjoyed them so much."

"Them?"

"Oh yeah, both boys are back."

He's lying.  He has to be.

My heart is racing at that moment.  This couldn't be happening.  The boy was dead.  I knew he was dead.  I'd seen his body.  I push past Ainsley as quick as I can.  I get into the room where the boys are.  I had to see it for myself.  I had to see what the fuck Ainsley was going off on.

That's when I see him standing there.  It wasn't a lie.

He was telling the truth.

The boy was definitely there.

He was definitely alive!

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