Chained By Desire

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take deep, steady breaths. Even though I'd been doing this for weeks, my legs still felt too heavy to move. Ballet was my passion-something I excelled at. But tonight, I wasn't on a stage performing for an adoring crowd. Instead, I was about to dance as a stripper in front of men old enough to be my father.

My stomach twisted into tight knots, and I fought the overwhelming urge to throw up. I hated every second of this job, hated what it made me feel, but there was no escaping it. No matter how much I wished for a different life, my reality wouldn't change.

Since our parents' deaths, it had been just me and Ivy, my younger sister. The weight of fending for both of us fell squarely on my shoulders. It was unbearable, but what other choice did I have?

My father had left behind a mess-a massive debt of seven hundred thousand dollars owed to a crime boss. His gambling addiction had destroyed him in life, and even in death, it continued to haunt us. It felt cruel that my mother had to die with him, leaving me to shoulder the aftermath.

I took this job out of desperation. I needed to protect Ivy, to pay off our father's debt, and to keep food on the table. By day, I danced ballet in a professional studio, something I loved. But by night, I stripped for strangers in a club I despised.

"Why aren't you ready yet, princess?" Amara's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see my colleague standing in the doorway of the dressing room. Her fiery red hair was tied back, and her expression was soft but knowing.

"I'll be ready in a minute," I replied, managing a faint smile.

Amara walked over and pinched my cheek lightly. "Listen, sweetheart. I know this isn't the life you dreamed of, but food isn't going to magically appear on your table. You've got to do what you've got to do. Now, let me help you with your makeup."

I nodded, too tired to argue. Amara's hands moved quickly, transforming my face with layers of powder and color. When she was done, I barely recognized the person staring back at me in the mirror.

"You're amazing at this," I told her honestly.

Amara grinned, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Of course, I am."

Before I could respond, the door burst open. Two other dancers strode in, their skin glistening with sweat.

"Elara, what are you still doing here? The men are waiting!" Claire scolded, tossing her wig onto the couch.

"Boss is here tonight, and he's not in the mood for mistakes," Violetta chimed in, eyeing me critically.

"Relax," Amara interjected. "Elara's never messed up, and she won't start now." She turned back to me, her expression softening. "You'll do great. Just go out there and show them what you've got."

I nodded, taking a shaky breath as I adjusted my white lingerie and lace underpants. My dagger heels clicked against the floor as I walked toward the stage. The loud, pounding music grew louder as I approached the curtains.

When the thick velvet parted, I was greeted by a chaotic scene of strobe lights, blaring music, and drunken cheers. Men danced shamelessly with women, and waiters darted between tables, carrying trays of liquor. The air reeked of sweat, sex, and cigarettes.

I stepped onto the stage, gripping the cold metal pole for support. The DJ changed the track, and the crowd roared in anticipation.