WAR: Little Darlings

Little Darlings
Hanna Clay
17 April
Las Vegas, NV

She wiped the sweat from her face with a dirty towel.  She had ten minutes until her next turn on the main pole, and she wanted to enjoy the breather.  She lightly dabbed her body, careful not to remove too much of the moisture. Most rookies tried powder and oils to keep their bodies from sticking to the poles, but anyone who had worked one for more than a week knew that nothing worked better than sweat.

“Go work it, Jeanette.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to groan. After 3 years in this city, doing everything with anyone, modesty was no longer in her nature. And yet of all the managers in this hell-hole, Lance was the only one who could make her wish that Little Darlings wasn’t one of the few fully nude bars in Vegas. Barely controlling a shudder, she turned to face him.

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s Crystal’s turn. Charity’s next, and then I’m up.”

She didn’t register the backhand until her ears stopped ringing.  She knew he loved to hit her, even when he wasn’t in her bedroom, but it never stopped her from being flip with him.

“Frank is fucking Charity, and is doing Crystal next. So when I tell you to get your bony-ass up there, it means move it.”

He started to walk away, and she stuck her tongue out at his back.

“Oh, and get them tipping big, you dirty little skank, or I’ll give you a “tip” of my own!”

She squeezed her eyes tight, barely stifling a groan, as she tried to shut out his annoying, nasal laughter. His “tip” was a toy he had got from a bootleg “adult” store off the Strip, made special just for her. It worked like a strap on, and looked like a meat tenderizer.

She threw the towel down and stalked towards the stage curtain, muttering a curse to that damned little bitch who could have just left her to die…

About Kristi Deming


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