C5 5

SAM

Peeking through the gap in the door, I see Tony, Stella’s manager, thrusting into her with such force that the bed frame repeatedly hits the wall. The sight ignites a firestorm of rage inside me. My mind races, wondering what drove Stella to cheat and how long this affair has been going on.

“Yes! Harder, Tony,” Stella moans.

“Yeah, I know you like that. I'm giving it to you harder than he ever will,” Tony grunts.

“Yes, baby,” she moans again.

Unable to endure more, I push the door open, causing it to slam against the wall. They jump apart, startled.

“Sam, this isn’t what it looks like,” Stella stammers, her voice trembling.

“Really? “I think you're having an affair with your manager in our home,” I state calmly, with a hint of danger in my tone.

Tony, scrambling to gather his clothes, freezes when he meets my gaze.

“So you’re getting both money from her gigs and some free sex? I wonder what your wife will think when she hears about this,” I say, my voice dripping with contempt.

“We’re already getting a divorce,” he replies weakly.

“Then this will be more ammunition against your cheating ass.”

Stella, whom I hadn’t noticed approaching, lightly touches my arm. I pull away as if burned.

“As fun as this has been, I need you both to get out of my house immediately. I’ll call security to expedite the process.”

“No, baby, let’s talk this out.”

“That’s not going to happen. I’m leaving now to give you time to pack your things.”

I head to the sitting room, where I left the flowers and chocolates on the center table. Picking them up, I feel a surge of bitterness. I call Rafael to see if he can take me somewhere to clear my mind.

“I thought we were celebrating?” he asks.

“Yeah, something happened. I’ll explain when I get there. I just need to get my mind off it.”

“Alright, I know a place. I’ll text you the address.”

“Cool. I’ll meet you there.”

I head down to the garage with the flowers and sweets, my heart heavy. As I leave the building, I see a homeless woman and hand them to her. At least I made someone happy today.

ROSA

I step out of a taxi in front of a run-down building, its paint chipping and windows dirty. Reaching through the window, I pay the driver.

“Are you sure you're at the right place, honey?” the man asks, his concern evident.

“I’m fine. Thanks for the ride,” I reply, used to this question from anyone other than Alex, my usual driver.

I enter the building through a wooden door on the side, the dimly lit hallway leading me to a big red neon light reading “Sapphire.” The glow bathes the corridor in a crimson hue, adding to the club’s illicit allure. I nod at the bouncer in front of the door before heading to the locker room.

Sapphire Lounge isn’t just any strip club; it’s for exclusive gentlemen. The pay is great, but with my sister’s medical bills, it’s still not enough.

In the locker room, I drop my stuff in my locker and lock it, wary of potential thieves. I see my girls already doing their makeup and wearing their costumes for our set.

“Hey, beautiful ladies! How are we feeling tonight?” I ask in my best Beyoncé voice.

“We’re feeling sexy,” they reply, laughing. It’s our ritual to hype ourselves up before the set. Despite the glamour, the weight of my financial burdens never fully lifts.

I quickly change into my costume: a short red dress adorned with sequins, giving it a glittery, sexy fairy look, paired with red glittery heels and a blonde wig. I finish my makeup just in time for our set.

By 10 p.m., the outer area buzzes with sensual music setting the mood. Our set, “Sexy Fairies,” is the fifth performance, one of the best. We’re called up to the stage, and the dimly lit club thrums with anticipation as the DJ cues up “Skin” by Rihanna. The pulsating beats mingle with excited whispers and clinking glasses. The spotlight centers on us, illuminating our sleek, shimmering outfits that hug our curves, exuding confidence and allure.

I take the center position, leading with seductive grace. My hips move in time with the music, drawing every eye. My long hair cascades down my back, catching the light as I spin and twist, each motion designed to captivate and entice.

To my left, Marie matches my movements, adding her own flair. Her body arches and undulates with the rhythm, her hands gliding over her skin in a tantalizing display. She locks eyes with a few audience members, a playful smirk drawing them deeper into the performance.

On the right, Lola’s energy is electric. Her every move is sharp and precise, yet infused with raw sensuality. She falls to her knees, arching back as her hands sweep across her body, the spotlight emphasizing the gloss of her skin. Her combination of power and seduction captivates the audience, and they cannot take their gaze away.

We move as one, a seamless blend of choreography and improvisation. I slide to the floor, arching my back provocatively, while Mia and Lila circle me, their hands trailing over our skin.

As the chorus hits, our movements intensify. We climb the poles at the edge of the stage, spinning and twisting with practiced ease. The audience cheers, the noise blending with the music in a heady mix of sound and emotion.

Descending from the poles, we come together for a final climactic series of moves, pressing against each other, bodies in perfect harmony, creating a tableau of desire and allure. The lights dim further, casting our figures in shadow, leaving just enough to the imagination.

As the final notes of “Skin” fade away, we take a final pose, breathing deeply but smiling triumphantly. The audience erupts with clapping, whistles, and cheers filling the space.

Backstage, the club buzzes with the energy of our performance, the memory of our dance etched into the night.

Not long after, I’m called to the VIP room for a private dance request. I hope the patron is decent because our performance left me hot and bothered. I don’t need a potbellied bald man killing the mood.

After freshening up, I head down the darkly lit hallway to the VIP rooms, red lights flashing intermittently. I pass James, the bouncer stationed there for protection.

“He’s in room 4,” he says.

“Thanks.”

I walk to the fourth room and push aside the dense curtains. As I enter, my eyes widen, and I gasp aloud. The person sitting on the couch isn’t someone I would have ever expected.