Christian (The Mitchell/Healy Family #3)(3)
Author: Jennifer Foor

She was now topless, squatting down with her back up against a pole. Her arms were lifted above her head, her breasts at full attention.

To say that I was uneasy would have been an understatement. I couldn’t fathom how I was intrigued, but yet as my eyes focused in on the confidence she held, a part of me felt jealous.

I’d always believed that women who dance for money had problems; like daddy issues, or even just for money. I felt like they were desperate and it was some last resort. This woman on the stage seemed happy, almost like she carried herself as if she was a queen. As her song ended, she hopped off the platform and headed in our direction. I turned my chair back around, trying to make it less obvious that I’d been in awe.

When she sat down beside me I almost wanted to cry, in fear that she would address the way I’d been watching her. Instead, she pretended that I wasn’t even present. “So, what’d you think of the new song?”

Becca reached over the table and took the stripper’s hands. “It was great. I noticed how many tips you got. The men loved it.”

I tightened my lips and sat silently listening to the next song begin to play as a new girl was introduced to the crowd. Shell, my third roommate turned her attention to me. “Sorry, Chris, this is Amber. Her dance name is Charisma. She used to live in your room, before she started making the big bucks. Now she’s got a studio apartment all to herself.”

Since money was never an issue with my family, I was just learning how someone could struggle as an adult. I tried not to talk about my family much, so that people wouldn’t want to be my friend for the wrong reasons. I’d been raised that money didn’t make a person, but knew enough to see how people could be taken advantage of if they had it. In all honesty, it wasn’t my money. It wasn’t like I was helping out around the ranch in anyway. My parents wanted my focus to be on school.

Amber looked me up and down, taking in the dress that fit so snug against my curves. “It’s nice to meet you, Chris. Is this your first time in a strip club? You seem uncomfortable.”

I shrugged. “It’s that obvious?”

She reached over and put her hand over mine, smiling fully as she spoke. “Don’t worry. I felt the same way my first time. Trust me, coming from my religious family, I never would have stepped foot into one of these places if it weren’t for Becca. One night out turned into a new life for me. Now I’m able to afford school and live lavishly without having to bust my ass every second of the day. Here these will help.” She slid over two shots.

I looked down at them, contemplating if I wanted to drink or not. After watching her doing her own, I succumbed to the pressure.

They burned like my throat was on fire, and I puckered up my face to handle the extreme discomfort. “I suppose the hours would be better,” I finally replied.

“Honey,” she started. “I work three days out of the week, for four hours at a time, and still bring home a grand easy. I’ve even started doing private parties. I get three hundred bucks for an hour and a half. Usually I end up splitting it with whoever I take, even if they don’t dance with me. It’s peace of mind knowing I’m not alone with strangers, ya know?”

I nodded, still in shock with being in a strip club and sitting next to a topless girl. It was difficult, even for a straight person, to not have your eyes radiate to naked skin, especially when it was right in my face. “I get it. It’s not something I could ever do, but it’s great that you can spend more time on school. So, if you don’t mind me askin’, what’s your major?”

She smiled. “Psychology.”

I was impressed again that she was seeking such a difficult occupation. It took a certain kind of dedication to focus on the medical field. This girl wasn’t a bimbo. She clearly knew what she wanted, and also how to make it happen.

While my roommates were having a good time, I was mesmerized that this lifestyle was nothing I’d imaged it to be. It was so intriguing, and I found myself wondering what each dancer’s story was.

Before I could ask Amber more, she smirked and waved as a gentleman motioned for her to join him. She stood up and leaned forward. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. This guy tips out the ass, and I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

For the next several hours, and drinks later, the four of us sat there watching the girls dancing around the stage. With each act, I could sense that same confidence with the performers. Maybe I picked up on it because it was something I lacked. Perhaps I was in amazement to be experiencing this type of lifestyle. No matter how I tried to spin that this wasn’t something I’d ever be interested in being around, I was drawn with curiosity. Not to mention that as I sat there watching someone of the same sex dancing around, I became very aware of how turned on it was making me. When Amber came back to our table she was pulling five dollar bills out of her G-string. “It’s a good night, ladies.”

A group of guys at a table next to us started cat-calling. We all turned to see that they were asking us to join them. Of course, all of the girls except for me thought it was a fun idea. I felt someone tugging on my arm, and noticed that Amber was pulling me along. “You remind me so much of myself. Is your name Christina?”

“No, it’s Christian.”

She giggled as we sat down at the new table. “You’re shitting me.”

I shook my head, finding humor in her shock. “No, I’m not.”

“Wow. Let me guess, catholic school girl. Your parents are still happily married, and they never miss a Sunday in church?”

“Are you psychic?”

She grimaced before continuing. “No. I like to think that I’m a good judge of character. Believe it or not you’re lucky. Not many kids live with both parents nowadays. It’s part of the reason why I want to be a psychologist. I feel like if people tried a little harder then marriage wouldn’t be such a failure.”

“Are you from a broken family?” I wondered if my question was too personal after I’d asked.

“Actually I’m not. I’m the middle child to a doctor, and a teacher. My dad’s a surgeon, and my mother works with special needs kids. They’ve never needed to work on their marriage, because neither is around each other enough to fight.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt bad for her.

“Don’t be. We spend holidays together, and vacation during the summer.”

I needed to change the subject, but the guys we were now with wouldn’t stop addressing us, so I let them do it for me.