Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

Roger scratched his thigh and cleared his throat.

‘Have you been working here long?’ He meant her, not Sam, but Sam answered for her.

‘I’ve been here for two years. Sarina hasn’t been here for long.’

‘Is that right?’ Roger cocked his head to one side and examined her with renewed interest.

‘That’s right,’ she replied, not knowing what else to say.

They talked on, or rather Sam and Dave did, about the excesses of their day. Roger joined in from time to time with less enthusiasm. Laura fidgeted. They should leave these two alone, she thought, trying to catch Sam’s eye.

Roger leaned over and spoke in his friend’s ear then smiled at Sam.

‘How ’bout a dance then, girls?’

Sam smiled back and uncrossed her legs. Laura forced a smile. It was what they were here for, but she wasn’t ready yet. She looked around. The rest of the tables were filling up. A petite blonde with oversized breasts was swaying her hips at a nearby table.

Roger was holding out a twenty-pound note. She unzipped her money belt and put the folded note inside. When she looked up, Sam had arranged herself between Dave’s legs.

Laura got to her feet. Roger opened his legs to make a space for her. She lowered herself into it, her back to him as Noelle had showed her. Her heart crashed against her chest. She was trapped. He was too close, she didn’t want him to be so close, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. She took a slow breath and concentrated on remembering what she had to do next.

Her movements felt forced and awkward, not at all sexy. She drew herself slowly to her full height, leaving a hair’s breadth between her back and his shirt, then stepped away from him. Her hands were shaking slightly as she fumbled at the hook of her bra. She turned to face her first customer, expecting interest or pleasure or amusement, something. But Roger’s eyes were blank. She stepped forward, crouching, so her nipples brushed the middle of his shirt – as Noelle had done to her when they’d been practising – then inched upright until her breasts were level with his face. He jerked forward as if to catch one in his mouth. She moved away just in time. No touching, Noelle had said.

She knelt on the floor, her eyes locked on his, and slid her panties down to expose the shiny black G-string. All she had to do was concentrate on being sexy. She moved from one position to the next. The routine she’d learned was still in her brain, thankfully. She gyrated her hips, lay on her back, opened her legs wide and snapped them shut like scissors. She did all the moves she could remember. Finally, she stood in front of him and bent over double, until the tips of her hair touched the floor and Roger’s face appeared through the V of her legs. Thank God she wasn’t naked. Then she stood up and gave him a smile.

It’s over . She wiped her palms on her thighs. The first one’s over .

Sam, finished already, stood waiting a few feet away.

‘You weren’t bad, darl’, considering it was your first time.’

‘It was so weird.’

Sam laughed, making the snake on her belly wriggle. ‘You’ll get used to it. C’mon, let’s keep moving.’

They walked slowly around the tables, searching. Sam pulled her bra strap off her shoulder.

An amplified male voice filled the room. ‘First up, the lovely Noelle!’

Laura glanced back at the stage. Noelle was stripping to a G-string. A glistening brown streak with a flash of white over her crotch, she strutted towards the pole and began to twirl around it, her thighs bulging as her legs contorted into one unlikely position after the next, her breasts inscribing dizzy circles, her nipples erect, a cross between a ballerina and an acrobat on steroids.

Sam, not interested in what was happening on stage, nudged Laura’s arm.

‘Gotta pee, back in a sec… see that one over there?’ She pointed to a young guy, sitting alone in an alcove. ‘He looks lonely. Why not go and say hi?’

Anxious and annoyed, she did as instructed; Sam was meant to be looking after her, not leaving her to fend for herself.

‘Hi there. Can I join you?’

‘Sure.’

The guy took a gulp of beer. He was barely twenty, she guessed, casually dressed with steel-framed glasses. Ordinary looking. More nervous than she was even.

His name was Ben. He supported Tottenham Hotspur and he was studying civil engineering, he told her readily, without elaborating. There was an awkward pause while she tried to think of suitable topics of conversation. Football and hobbies to start with, Noelle had recommended. The weather, TV programmes, and the news, if you’re really stuck. Never work, wives or girlfriends.

‘So, what do you do when you’re not studying?’

He gave her an awkward smile and looked into the table. Oh, shit. It sounded like she was chatting him up. She sipped her Diet Coke. All this was so artificial. She didn’t want to know about his hobbies. She knew what he was here for and so did he. Why not just get on with it? All this waiting made it worse than ever. She gathered up her courage.

‘Would you like a dance?’

‘Great.’ He reached for his wallet and handed her a few notes. She glanced around. Two other girls were dancing, she wouldn’t be the only one. And they were tucked away in a corner here, away from the others.

She nestled between his legs. It was strange, switching to this sudden intimacy after the stumbling conversation. But dancing was easier than talking, in a way – she knew how to be sexy, there was nothing complicated about it. She closed her eyes, sent her mind back.

It was all there, somewhere inside her.

She hadn’t needed to do anything except stay, and go along with whatever her father had wanted. Her body, for those minutes it was required, was his to watch or to touch as he pleased. It had been their private ritual, a repeated performance that never failed to satisfy. She had seen his desire close up, and known that she was the reason for it. All she had to do now was dig down to find that place, become that girl again.

Laura opened her eyes. With her back to her customer, she moved herself slowly up and down in front of him. She removed her bra, this time without fumbling, turned to face him and came up close. His eyes followed the movement of her nipples as they moved up the buttons of his shirt. She could sense the excitement in his breath, in the shine of his eyes. She stood, her legs astride him, and cupped her breasts in her hands – just as the small blonde had done – slowly circling her hips. He blinked, his eyes fixed on her. She was getting the hang of this. It wasn’t so scary anymore.

‘Thanks, that was great.’

He sounded sincere. Perhaps this was his first time in a place like this too. She plucked her lingerie from the floor. A shard of light pierced her eyes from a mirrored ball above. She turned away, drawing stale air into her lungs.

‘Next up – Anabelle!’ A stir went through the room. Laura turned toward the stage. Lacklustre applause as the next girl ran up.

‘Come on, fellas, give her some encouragement!’

A spasm of anxiety went through her, settling low and icky inside her stomach. She’d be up there soon. It was one thing dancing for a single guy, down here. But up there, under the spotlights, for everyone to see?

Sam reappeared at her side. ‘Fancy a drink?’ She stuck out her tongue. ‘I’m parched. Come on, it’ll help you dance.’

On stools at the bar, three girls were seated. They were allowed to drink two glasses of alcohol during their shifts, as long as they didn’t get drunk or misbehave.

‘Zoe’s in a strop tonight,’ a tall girl said in a South African accent. ‘I’m glad she didn’t have a go at me for looking like an old crone. I’ll be thirty next week.’