Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

Moments later, Zoe appeared and tapped the blonde’s forearm.

‘Lucy, aren’t you on next? You should be over there ready to go by now. And, Sarina, you go on after Heather.’ Zoe appraised her with cold eyes then turned to the South African girl. ‘Heather, make sure you’re ready in plenty of time.’

Laura took her drink and followed Sam to look for another dance.

‘All the guys like Lucy,’ Sam said, rotating her neck while she massaged it. Lucy was up on stage, an impish smile on her face as she approached the pole. ‘She looks so innocent, but she’ll do anything with a bit of encouragement. She’s only eighteen, you know.’

‘Are those real? Her boobs, I mean.’

‘She had them done just after she started here. Lots of us have, you earn more money with big tits.’

‘You too?’

Sam was nicely curvy on top – a C cup at most, she guessed.

‘Not yet. I might one day, if I need to. I’ve had Botox though, I get it every month. And I’m always at the beauty salon. You’ve got to look after yourself if you want to earn good money.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Three years in June, and two years before that in another place. I know, it’s a long time.’ Her gaze slipped away. ‘I wanted to be doing something else by now, uni, or something, but this is better than a lot of jobs, believe me.’

‘Go, girl!’ shouted a leather-jacketed man from a table at the front, waving a bottle of beer. The men around him looked up at the stage and winked at one another.

‘I Want Your Sex’ by George Michael ended. Lucy waved and pulled teasingly at the G-string, flashed her shaved pussy then skipped offstage. She seemed to have no inhibitions whatsoever.

One by one, the others went up on stage – black, white, Asian, mixed race. Most were in their twenties or early thirties, she guessed, and slim. Some were fluid and graceful, spinning and stretching their bodies like haughty peacocks. Others seemed to just put their bodies through the motions, their faces lifeless, as if they’d done their routine too many times.

‘Better get ready now,’ Sam said, after they’d done the rounds of the floor and found no takers for dances. ‘Heather’s about to come off.’

Another song started.

Laura put down her glass. The tables in front of the stage were all full now. Everyone would be watching her every move – literally – they’d be sure to know this was her first time. She took a deep breath. What if they didn’t like her?

Her song, ‘Sex Machine’, boomed out of the speakers. She waited for her cue to go on then ran up onto the stage, late. She was Sarina now, not Laura. The light was dazzling. She could see nothing below the stage, only darkness.

She dropped her gown and walked uncertainly towards the pole. No one clapped or cheered. Her feet seemed glued to the floor.

‘Get on with it, darling!’

She tried to concentrate. If she could block out everyone around her, she’d be fine. She gripped the pole with one hand, positioned her foot on it, and launched herself. Once, twice, three times she swung around, her other arm limp at her side. Her hands were so damp it was hard to get a grip. She did some other moves that Noelle had shown her, and stepped away from the pole.

‘Show us your pussy, sweetheart!’

She stared down into the glare of the lights but couldn’t see who had shouted. Suddenly, it was all wrong. Titillating men who cared nothing about the person she really was – what was she doing up here, for God’s sake? She had an urge to run off the stage and keep going, out of the club.

But it had to be done.

She forced a smile, as if she did this all the time, as if she was loving every moment, and undid her bra. She went through her positions on the floor. Lastly, she bent over at the hips, bum to the audience, and wriggled her pants down to her ankles so her body was bare, save for the G-string and platforms.

The song ended. She hurried down the steps.

‘Passable,’ Sam told her afterwards. ‘Try to enjoy it more, next time. Or look like you are.’

Things got better after that. She got a third lap dance, then a fourth and a fifth. Her confidence increased a little each time. One man, who said he’d been drinking all evening before coming to the club, left her a twenty-pound tip. The more they drank, the more generous they seemed to get.

Around 1am, she guessed, the club began to thin out. They weren’t allowed to wear watches, Noelle had told her, as it didn’t look good to be constantly checking the time. Laura sat on a stool at the bar. Her feet were aching from the high heels. She didn’t want to do another dance before the end of her shift.

Zoe walked by with a frown cast in her direction. Laura got to her feet. She knew she should be hustling for business; even if you were turned down, you were meant to keep asking. She went up to a nearby table where Sam had danced a few minutes earlier. Three businessmen sat around a bottle of Krug in an ice bucket.

‘Darling, come over, will you?’

He had cropped hair and an expensively-styled suit, as did the other two.

Laura looked at the money he was waving at her. At first it had looked like a couple of tenners, but no, it was two twenties. He rolled up the notes and put them into the top of her stocking.

‘Take everything off, will you.’

He spoke tersely. She didn’t want to dance naked, as Lucy and the others had done. Not yet anyway, even if it meant getting forty pounds rather than twenty. It felt too uncomfortable, too much like a violation. What if he reached out and touched her? It was against the rules, but that might not stop them.

She saw the flash of irritation on his face. No, she couldn’t get out of it, not now. She took off her wrap and started. The stale smoke and garlic on his breath turned her stomach. He had three deep lines on his forehead and a deep line curving around each side of his mouth.

The first part was easy enough. When that was done, her hands slid down to her stomach, fingers playing with the top of her G-string. He picked up his glass, his eyes on her moving hips. She arched her back and bent over, whisked the flimsy piece of material past her knees and stepped out, naked. This was the part they liked best, Noelle had said, ‘you have to take your time at the end, wave your arse at them, let them see all your assets. Then they’ll be happy and give you a good tip.’

Laura brushed her hair from her eyes, heart pounding, and picked up her things. She had finished the dance too quickly, and he didn’t look pleased. There wouldn’t be a tip.

In the remaining time, nothing much happened. The men had almost all gone or were in the process of leaving. She tried not to show it, but her spirits had sunk to the floor. How would she ever get used to this? But the first naked dance was always the hardest, according to Sam.

The club had almost emptied of customers, when an invisible signal sent every girl fleeing towards the changing room, like birds changing direction mid-flight. Laura followed. At last, her first shift was over.

Everyone was jostling for space, peeling off clothes and stuffing things into bags. She sat on the bench and pulled out the banknotes from her money belt. She unfolded each one as she counted. Forty, sixty, eighty… one hundred and forty pounds. It wasn’t as much as she’d hoped, and she’d already paid forty pounds to Zoe just to get in, but she’d make more next time.

She unfastened her platforms and placed her aching feet on the floor. The cold was soothing. She wiped off her lipstick, stuffed her gear into her bag, and dressed as quickly as she could. A squawk of voices filled the room – the birds were about to escape their cage. The first ones were on their way already.