SHOWGIRL STRIPPER S LIFE

the Temptation of the Night

 The air was thick with perfume, sweat, and the lingering scent of whiskey. Gemma Morgan adjusted the strap of her lace bra as she made her way past the crowded tables.

 She passed by the other dancers in the dressing room, some fixing their makeup, others adjusting their outfits. Sasha was in the middle of retelling the girls about last night's best tipper, waving her hands as she spoke.

 "He pulled out a roll of cash so big, I thought he was about to pay my tuition," Sasha laughed, applying more lipgloss. "Turns out he just wanted me to whisper sweet nothings in his ear while he drank his whiskey. Easiest money ever."

 Gemma smirked as she grabbed her body shimmer, dusting it over her collarbone. "I need one of those tonight."

 "Girl, don't we all?" Sasha rolled her eyes. "You working the main floor first?"

 "Nah," Gemma said, I'm meeting a client at the VIP lounge then Straight to the stage."

 She loved the stage. The world melted away when she was up there. The way the lights blurred out the men's faces, turning them into nothing but shadows with cash. Up there, she was in control.

 She went into the VIP room and was disappointed by who she saw. It was the guy they refered to as 'can you feel that guy'

 She offered him a small smile, sat down, spread her legs and he got to work.

 Can you feel that?" he asked, his voice soaked in confidence.

 "Mmm… yeah," she purred, pretending to sound impressed. "That feels so good. You're amazing."

 Every word was a lie.

 He was currently buried between her legs, trying his hardest, but he was terrible at it. Gemma was beyond bored, scrolling through her phone with one hand while the other rested lazily on his head.

 Gemma sighed, going through videos on her phone, searching for something, anything worth her attention. Because right now? This wasn't it.

 ______

 The second the door clicks shut behind him, she exhale. "Finally."

 Back in the dressing room, the girls take one look at her face and burst out laughing.

 "Oh my god," Mira grins, applying her lipstick in the mirror. "Don't tell me you got *him* tonight."

 "The 'Can You Feel That?' guy?" Lena fake moans, clutching her chest like she's about to faint from secondhand disappointment.

 "I was so turned off, I almost charged him extra for my suffering."

 The room erupts in laughter. "Next time, fake an emergency," moira says.

 "Or a funeral," Irene says and the girls burst out laughing again.

 "Later girls" I have to take the stage next.

 "Okay girl BYE!! They said in unison.

 When the DJ called her name, she went on the stage, her heels clicking against the floor. The music started slow, seductive. She wrapped her fingers around the pole, letting her body move in rhythm, dipping and rolling with the beat. 

 Then, she saw him.

 A man in a sleek black suit, the Rolex on his wrist caught the light every time he lifted his drink. He wasn't staring at the stage like the rest of them, he was staring at her.

 Rich. Powerful. Exactly the kind of man she wanted tonight.

 Gemma met his gaze, holding it. She was used to men looking at her, but this was different. There was something almost predatory, about the way he watched. Like he had already decided something about her before she even stepped off the stage.

 When her set ended, she barely had time to catch her breath before one of the floor managers approached her.

 "Guy in VIP wants a private dance," he said, nodding toward the man in the suit.

 Gemma smirked, already feeling the heat of excitement in her body. "I thought so."

 She adjusted her outfit and made her way to him, letting her hips sway just a little more than usual. When she reached his table, he leaned back, taking her in like he had all the time in the world.

 "Sit," he said, voice smooth. Commanding.

 Gemma slid onto his lap, placing her hands on his chest as she started to move. She felt the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath her fingertips.

 "You don't talk much, huh?" she murmured, rolling her hips against him.

 He smirked. "I prefer watching."

 His hands stayed on the armrest, never touching, but the way his gaze moved over her body made her feel bare, even more than she already was.

 "You dance differently," he said after a moment.

 Gemma tilted her head. "How so?"