𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

I have no time to grieve Chris or relish in the reunion with my best friend because I am pushed backstage.

"Quick, what's your stripper name?" Jasmine makes me think fast.

"Uh—" I struggle to come up with anything.

The redhead from the dressing room comes off stage and pummels towards me with her tits out.

"Out of my way, Barbie." She taunts me, bumping my shoulder.

"That's it." Jasmine and I get an idea at the same time.

"I'm sure you've heard that a lot with the blonde hair and big tits," Jasmine laughs at me as she fixes my dress or lack of, I should say.

The ensemble is a stretch fabric pink micro lace halter dress with little bows and high thigh slits.

"Once or twice," I reply sarcastically.

Jasmine squares my shoulders and takes a deep breath with me.

"I know this is a fucked up position but if you want to get out of here, your only chance is by hitting that pole and making some money."

"I fucking owe them, like, seven hundred thousand dollars, I'm not gonna make that by twirling around a pole for one night!" I argue, hopeless.

Jasmine raises both of her eyebrows. "You'd be surprised, there's a lot of millionaires here, and you're just their type."

I peek out at the sea of men all lining up at the base of the stage, practically barking at the MC to bring out the next girl.

"I don't think I can do it." I tell Jas as my stomach starts to turn.

She lifts my chin up. "What would Chris do?"

I frown, still not able to cope with his loss. Tears fill my eyes but Jasmine dabs them away.

"He'd go out there and beat everyone's ass." I assume is the right answer.

Jasmine laughs. "No, he'd tell you to be smart. Look, you have moves, just pretend you're preforming for Chris."

I shake my head, still feeling uneasy.

Jasmine smacks her lips. "Look, Tate really wants you so he won't let anything happen to you. Use that to your advantage."

"Calling to the stage: Jasmine Ryce!" The MC elongates Jasmine's stage name as she kisses my cheek and then rushes behind the curtain.

The curtain opens and the lights shine down on Jasmine.

The crowd goes absolutely wild for her, they love her.

Jasmine rolls her body down to collect cash tips from two mysterious men and then crawls towards the pole.

I watch her body move to the beat of the Sexxy Red song that's playing.

I hand it to her, she reeled me with the clever name, but her moves are selling me.

Cash starts raining down on the stage as Jasmine unzips her latex bodysuit, revealing her g-string and pasties underneath.

"Oh my God." I giggle, looking away from my best friend's practically nude body.

Her set goes on for what seems like forever, and she is impressive, her twerking has me mesmerized.

"Bucket!" She yells at me to get my attention.

"Huh? Oh, here." I return, tossing up the pale in which she uses to collect the money from the stage.

"Give it up for Bella Electra!" The MC announces.

As soon as the tall girl with lilac hair and roller skates goes on the stage, the curtain closes again.

Jasmine runs down the few steps, pumped up with adrenaline.

She's sweating, but not overly.

"How was I?" She asks, grinning.

"Wow." Is all I can say.

Jasmine laughs, hugging me.

"Oh," she says, looking at the cash in her bucket. "here."

"What's this?" I ask as she hands over the whole thing.

"I want you to have it." She tells me, nodding.

"No." I immediately deny, pushing the bucket back at her chest.

"Morgan, you need it more than I do."

I shake my head. "We can split it."

Jasmine rolls her dark eyes. "Fine, but I'm only agreeing because I know you'll find a way to give me back the money. You're too good of a person, you know that?"

We hug again and this time I hold on a little longer.

"Jasmine," Monica's voice thunders.

She walks out of the darkness and presents herself to us.

"Yes, Mistress?" Jasmine gives her respect.

Personally, I don't know about this "mistress" stuff.

"You are wanted in the Sapphire lounge." Says Monica.

"That means you, too, Barbie," Monica says unironically.

Jasmine and I secure our masks one final time before entering the Sapphire Lounge.

We walk along the back wall, remaining unnoticed as Jasmine gives me the run down.

"These men are older, they usually just want conversation and if you can keep it going, the more they'll tip you." Jasmine whispers to me.

"Here," she says quietly. "you ask them if they want a drink, that'll get the conversation going if they like what they see."

I nod my head, retaining that information.

Jasmine tells me that in the glass is an Old Fashioned so I can tell the guest.

She leaves me to chat it up with a table of three gentleman.

I work the floor, searching for an empty glass or lone patron.

It isn't long before I find a tanned man with tattoos inked across his knuckles sitting at a table alone.
He looks fixated on the two girls on stage engaging in soft core porn.

I watch them for a while, trying to make myself get used to what I'm seeing and fast.

"You look like you could use a drink." I induce small talk.

The heavily cologne-clad man chuckles.

He does a double take at me before saying, "I could use one." I give it to him carefully and his hand brushes mine.

"What's this, an Old Fashioned?" His thick Mexican accent speaks.

"A-huh." I hum, chewing my lip as he takes a sip.

"Sweet," he hisses, "just like you. Sit."

I quickly make myself comfortable across from the Hispanic man and keep up my bimbo persona.

"Let me see your nails." He says right away.

I blink rapidly, trying to understand the request, but don't hesitate to oblige.

I put my hands flat on the top of the table and the man says, "Very good," sliding me a twenty dollar bill.

"Now, your toes." He orders.

"M-my toes?" I stutter trying to make sure I heard him right.

He nods, loosening his necktie.

"Show me those pretty feet, baby." He breathes, sitting at the edge of his chair.

I reveal my foot from under the table.

"Oh my goodness," he moans at the sight of them in a pair of clear Pleasers that Jasmine lent me.

"Take the shoe off, mami." He whispers, wetting his lips.

I only do so after he puts a fifty dollar bill on the table for me.

If he's already salivating at my manicure and heels, I can squeeze a hundred dollar bill out of this sucker next, I figure.

I sensually lean forward and remove the heels.

I put my feet on his shoe and then tickle his leg with my toes, trying to keep myself from laughing while doing so. I mean, this is ridiculous.

Chris liked my feet, sure, he's sucked my toes, frequently massages them, and always called them pretty, but this man is just too much.

"Ahhh." He winces as I put my foot in his lap.

"You're making me so hard, baby girl. Keep doing that." He talks.

I crack a judgemental smile behind my mask and then commit my final act: putting my foot on his cheek.

He tosses his head back, momentarily paralyzed with pleasure.

"May I, mi amor?" He asks.

Granting him permission, I nod my head.

He kisses my foot and then starts to feel in between each of my toes.

After tipping me a hundred dollars, he puts my feet back onto his lap and pulls out a phone.

"I'm not going to last," he says through a breathy voice, "I must take picture to remember your perfect little piggies forever."

Seeing the photo as a chance to milk another tip from this man, I see nothing wrong.

Except, the camera flashes and some gruff voice immediately shouts, "HEY!"

Two guards, both built like Roblox characters, in all black, come to remove the man.

They hoist his body effortlessly from the chair and take him away. Where to? I don't know. Probably no one does, but his screaming soon fades.

I look all around, the only person distracted by the scene other than myself was Jasmine who looks at me from across the room.

The man she's entertaining grabs her jaw and demands her attention back.

Seeing her regain control of the situation by taking his money, I calm my nerves rather than marching over there and throwing a drink in the man's face.

Since everyone else is occupied, I sneak my way out.

Jasmine may not know it, but I'm getting her out of here. I just have to find a way. . .

I tiptoe carefully down the hallway until I hear chatter growing louder.

Out of fear of getting caught, I sneak into the room closest to me.

Upon opening the doors, I walk in on a threesome.

An upside down girl is gagged and bound to a vertical wooden frame and being penetrated by two men in leather.

No comment.

"Sorry." I apologize with a bow as I backtrack out of the room, smacking right into another body.

"Shit!" A girl curses, angrily looking down at the drink she's spilled all over herself.

"I'm so sorry." I quickly tell her, picking up the glass from the floor.

"Lucky it didn't break," she snarls. "You must be new."

I nod sheepishly. "Were you going in there? I don't think they're ready for a drink."

She laughs. "Well, now I have to go change. We get fined for looking messy."

"There's a lot of rules around here." I comment, following her.

She scoffs, "You have no idea. I'm Harper, the bartender."

"Barbie," I introduce myself. "How'd you get saddled with the good job?"

"Don't think I'm lucky, my job isn't easy. I
I worked the floor, too, I just got this promotion. Before I came here, I was a cart girl at the country club."

"The country club, like, Raymond's country club?"

She nods, hazel eyes rolling under the black lace mask. "Yeah, that one."

"I'm sure you know a lot of people but did you see my fiancé, Chris Vau—"

"You're Chris's fiancé?! Wait, Darling?!" She gasps like someone mentioned Beyoncé.

"Shh! How do you know Chris?"

"We met once or twice, but he was different than Tate and those guys - he was nice to us."

"Us?"

"Me and my friend, Hope. She died."

"Chris died, too." I share, now feeling apathetic about it.

Harper's eyes widen and then she looks down with a heavy sigh. "Goddamn it!! Look, I'm sorry."

"Then, what are you doing here?" She asks me.

"Tate." Is all I need to say for Harper to understand.

"Of course." She smacks his lips.

"Harper, we have to get out of here." I tell her, taking her by the broad shoulders.

"I've tried, it's impossible, this place is like Fort Knox."

"There's gotta be a way." I insist, racking my brain.

A nude man approaches wearing nothing more than a disco ball mask.

He's escorted by one of the girls I saw in the dressing room.

He rests the back of his hand gently on Harper's shoulder. She bows to him, being taken away by the escort.

Then, he touches my shoulder with the back of his hand and I bow.

Taking me by the hand, the man leads me to a room that needs to come with an epilepsy warning.

The man dances on me, pushing up against my backside.

It's hard to breathe, there's no air circulating, and people are packed shoulder to shoulder.

I look down and see more dicks than I was mentally prepared for.

While I devise an escape plan, I need to get accustomed to my surroundings.

I start to dance, letting several pairs of hands touch all over my body from my ankles to my breasts and the top of my head.

The music crescendos, I can feel the bass in my chest.

It starts to move me, I feel like I'm on a trip.

When I blink my eyes open, I see Monica standing right in front of me. She frightens me so badly, I jump out of my skin.

"Your turn to hit the stage, Barbie." She tells me.

✕

You can do this, I tell myself in my head.

You are sexy. You are Barbie.

The crowd will love you.

"Pretend you're performing for Chris," Jasmine's words replay in my thoughts.

My eyelids flung open as I hear the announcer come on the microphone.

The crowd applauds the girl off of the stage and she asks me for a hand as she walks down the steps in the highest pair of latex platform boots I've ever seen. Her poor ankles.

She takes off her bra casually and empties a bunch of bills into a bucket. Next, she digs into her ultra mini skirt and retrieves some more dollar bills.

She winks at me and then says, "I got them warmed up for you, they're all yours. Knock 'em dead."

"Life in plastic, she's fantastic, give it up for BARBIE!" The DJ brings me out.

The curtains tear away and I'm exposed to a sea of people expectations higher than their bank accounts.

A single spotlight shines down on me, cuing me to move.

Lana Del Rey's "Music to watch boys to" starts to play.
I know this song well, and begin dancing.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

I play to the crowd, acting shy at first. Some will like that, they respond to it.

"Putting on my music while I'm watching the boys
(So I do what you want)" are the lyrics.

I roll my hips.

"Singing soft grunge just to soak up the noise
(With ribbons in knots)
Play 'em like guitars, only one of my toys
('Cause I like you a lot)
No holds barred, I was sent to destroy, yeah."

Remembering my lapdance at Fat Angel's, I tune into that.

I was sexy, I was putting on a show. For Chris.

That's why I'm doing this - for him. I hold onto that memory and use it to fuel my next move.

My dancing becomes more erotic as I move to the song.

I twirl my fingers in a stranger's hair and he hands over a twenty, eyes following me as I grind on the woman at his table.

She shudders, her hands exploring my body.

I flip my hair and move through the crowd.

A random table catches my eye. There's a man with a brown bun sitting alone. Something calls me to him.

He cracks his knuckles but I take this as an invitation.

Being that his table is empty, I crawl on top of it and lay out.

The crowd cheers with "oohs" and "ahh's" and "woo's."

I have no thoughts other than to wow this crowd and take their money.

Yet for some reason, this masked stranger demands my attention.

My curiosity is peaked.

His suit isn't custom tailored but he has on a Paul Rich watch like the one Chris wore.

Surely, that's only coincidental.

I get out of my head and take back control.

"I know what only the girls know
Hoes with lies akin to me," Lana sings.

The olive-skinned man reaches for me and I playfully smack his hand away, making the crowd laugh.

The chorus of the song plays in my head. Such a sexy song takes me to a fantasy in my head - a memory of one of mine and Chris's toe-curling nights.

I close my eyes and touch myself, wishing he was here to do it.

"I live to love you
And I love to love you
And I live to love you, boy
I live to love you
And I love to love you
And I live to love you, boy
Nothing gold can stay
Like love or lemonade
Or sun or summer days
It's all a game to me anyway."

Something comes over me, in a final act, I grab the man by the face and kiss his lips covered by the plastic of the mask.

The crowd devours this, in an uproar.

He hands me a hundred dollar bill which I lean in and make him put it between my breasts.

Call me crazy, but I smell mahogany teakwood and sandalwood. It's a musky scent that I've obsessed over for years, only I can never quite get all the notes right of Chris's signature cologne, but it can never be duplicated or mistaken for anything else.

I try to stare into the man's eyes but can't make out the color in the darkness of the room.

The song fades out and the viewers applaud.

The man stands tall, extending his hand.

I almost take it when Tate appears, grabbing me by the waist.

"If you want her," he chuckles, stroking my hair. "you have to pay."

"Alright, everybody, give it up once again for Barbie!" The MC fires up the crowd once again.

"Walk with me," Tate requests, pulling me away.

We find ourselves in an empty room with a single bed and couch. On the couch, an array of sex toys.

"Hm." I laugh through my nose as I pace.

Tate takes the edge of the bed and asks, "What?"

"Are they clean?" I refer to the adult pleasure instruments.

Tate laughs. "Of course. Why, you want to use them?"

My eyes roll.

"What did you bring me in here for?" I ask, aggravated. "Don't you need me out there making money?"

"That's what I came to tell you; Barbie is making a killing," he lets me know.

"Really?" I sound shocked because I am.

Tate nods, smiling proudly. "No matter what you go by, people love you, Morgan."

"So what does this mean? You get a cut or something?" I flail my arms, sitting beside him.

Tate puts his hand on my thigh and I cringe, warding him off.

He signs heavily. "It's all yours, and once you make enough to pay off your debt, you're free to go."

"As if you'll actually let me go."

"I'm not holding you here against your will. I said you can go once you pay it off, that doesn't mean it'll be tonight or anytime soon."

I look between his eyes and shake my head.

"I can't read you. One second you're vulnerable and hospitable, then you're evil."

Tate laughs briefly. "Evil? You are a free woman, Morgan. So we used some scare tactics so you wouldn't skip out on your debt, doesn't mean I'm going to rape you or something."

I blink slowly. "You almost punched me in the face."

"Out of anger," he claims, chuckling as he pushes the hair behind my ear. "but I don't hate you. Actually, I'm infatuated with you."

His eyes close and he leans in slow as if for a kiss.

I want to laugh in his face.

Luckily, I'm saved by the bell.

The bell being three strong knocks on the door.

"Tate, it's Marco. You got a big spender."

Tate curses under his breath, rising up to go and angrily open the door.

"How much?" He barks at the man in the Phantom of the Opera mask.

"Five thousand for five minutes. Cash." The stranger sways Tatum.

Tate, unwilling, looks at Marco who nods his head, verifying the man has the money.

"She's all yours," Tate grumbles, bumping shoulders with the man as he exits and they swap places.

The man goes to shut the door but Tate stops him.

"Only five minutes," he warns. "The auction is in less than an hour and we'll be needing her."

The man nods his head and finally closes himself inside of the room with me.

I don't know who this man thinks he is, but this is why I choose the bear.

Five thousand dollars for five minutes? What the hell does he expect to happen? Don't care, it's not going to.

I look around the room and the only possible weapons I see are the sex toys. A lot of good a rubber monster dildo is going to do me. Well...

"Finally, I can take this thing off." A familiar voice talks.

"Andy?" I wonder, tilting my head.

"Hey, Morgan!" The younger Adam's brother beams.

He removes his mask and reveals his face.

I jump onto my feet and give him a tight squeeze.

"What are you doing here?!" I ask him, looking at his getup.

"Here to save you."

"Good!" I'm overjoyed. "Did you see a way out?"

I take my mask off and let my hair fall down my back.

"Uh, y-yeah," Andy stammers.

"What?" Panic laces my tone as Andy looks at me moon-eyed.

"Nothing, you just look really good. Oh— is Chris gonna kill me for saying that?" He facepalms himself.

My posture relaxes with a large puff of air I expel.

"Andy, Chris died." I break the news to him gently.

Andy looks at me, heartbroken.

He brings me in for a hug. "Chris died? I'm so sorry to hear that— wait. Chris isn't dead."

"He's not?" I gasp.

"No," Andy tells me, suddenly perking up. "I drove here with him. He's out there getting ready for the auction."

"Andy, he's here?!"

"Yeah, we split up, trying to find you!"

"Take me to him!" I exclaim, grabbing my mask to put on before I push Andy out of the room.