Page 3 of Disco Fever

“No,” I breathed with a smile. “No! Patty, stop.” She remained still, as I realized she was being serious. “They aren’t really looking over here though, are they?” I wanted to look past her but knew it would be obvious. “I can’t look. If I do, they’ll see me.” I was so nervous, filled with this odd anxiety. Why were they looking at me?Me, of all people. I was just… Dot. I came to work, I danced, I went home. That was my story, well, most of it. Truthfully, I started working at the infamous Eden’s Inferno not only because of its notoriety, but because I had heard it was a safe place to start over. No trouble, no manager selling his girls on the side for extra cash, or handsy customers. Just work. The last thing I needed in my life was to get mixed up with the disreputable devils. But still, maybe they’re just looking to look. And looking wasn’t a crime, right? I mean, Eden’s Infernoisa strip club. People pay to watch us dance. They come to see us expose ourselves for pay. Though I must admit, I wasn't exactly supposed to be out on the floor. The dancers could mingle here and there, but it was supposed to be quick. No real socializing. They didn’t want us to build a relationship with the customers—called it a safety hazard. But these two weren’t just any old customers. They were more than that.

“All the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen a dancer catch their eyes. Youhaveto walk by them, Dot.”

“I can’t, Patty.” I tried to hush her.

“Fine. Just turn around and be chill. Whip your hair or something and let your eyes follow just enough to see their table.” My heart began to race with an odd excitement. I wasn’t just breaking the rules by being here out on the floor, I was tempting fate, dangling myself in front of this elusive danger. And I liked it.

“Fine.” I exhaled, quickly finishing my drink. “Here it goes.” With a gentle inhale, I gracefully tossed my long hair over my shoulder as my eyes followed the direction of my strands, smiling as I pretended to laugh at something Patty said. Time nearly slowed as my sights were met with that of the two bedazzled masks. Patty was right. The Devils were staring right at me. My anxiety crept in as I remembered I couldn’t look directly at them. And I did. I casually looked past them, as if I was looking for something or someone else, pretending their heavy gazes didn’t excite me as they lingered on my skin.

“You naughty thing!” I playfully shoved Patty as she giggled at my obvious fake laugh.

“Smooth,” she teased quietly.

“Any who, I have to get backstage and change. See you later, Patty.” I blew her a kiss, grinning hard as I turned to leave, my face beaming with a smile as my cheeks remained flushed.

Be cool, Dot. Breathe. Just put one foot in front of the other and don’t trip when you walk by and you’ll be fine.

As I walked past their table, I pretended to not see them, once again tossing my hair back with a confident smile. Despite my fake demeanor, I was scared shitless. I could feel their eyes pulling me down from behind their masks. My blood rushedthrough my veins faster than a hit of any drug I’ve ever taken, boiling with adrenaline. All because I had the attention of those two people.

The Devils had their eyes on me. And I liked it.

2

DOT

The well litvanity mirror warmed my face as I leaned in close and ran the hot pink lipstick across my lower lip, topping it off with the juiciest clear gloss to ensure perfection as I smacked my mouth with a loud pop and smiled at my reflection. The pink shade of my lips contrasted with the vibrant blue glitter caked across my eyelids enhanced by the thick, black winged liner. I tossed my bouncy blonde curls, emphasizing the height with some hairspray, making sure everything sat exactly how I intended it to. I wanted everything about me to look absolutely fucking perfect, down to the smallest detail.

“Five minutes, Dottie!” Patty shouted back to me from the doorway of the dressing room, her voice breaking through the distant thumping music and scattered voices of the other dancers.

“Hey Patty!” I twirled back to face her. “Did you see them? Are they out there?”

Patty smiled and nodded her head. “Those devils have been here every night since they first saw you.”

Perfect.I felt a feverish boost.

“Well? What do you think?” I motioned to my body, giving her a little spin.

She stepped into the dressing room, smoking a cigarette as she watched me, admiring my pastel pink lingerie that sparkled with every move. “That’s a mighty fine color on you, Dottie. Pink really suits you. Here—” She placed the cigarette between her lips and adjusted my bra straps, loosening them, allowing some extra room for my breasts to hang. “There we go.” She removed the cigarette and exhaled as her smoke hit my face. “You got bigger tits than all the other dancers combined. No need to choke yourself out trying to make them look bigger than they already are. Trust me, these” —she motioned between my breasts— “are the closest any of those customers will ever get to see heaven. You’re like a seductive little angel sent down here to make the rest of us salivate at your feet.”

“Are you sure?” I asked anxiously, turning back to my reflection, examining every tiny detail for the hundredth time.

“Absolutely. Now.” Patty slapped my ass. “Go get them, baby girl.” A high-pitched squeal, followed by a wave of laughter, escaped my lips as I grabbed my sheer robe from the dressing room chair and began to tie it around my waist. “And hey… ” Patty pointed to me. “Don’t be scared of them. Those two can look all they want, but the touching is up to you. You’re the one in control out there.” She looked back past the door and spoke to someone. “I’m coming!”

Patty ran off, assumingly to attend to more club business as I stared back at my reflection. “I’m not scared of them,” I whispered to myself. “I rather like the idea of dancing for the Devils.”

My dead gaze followed as I traced the feathered lining of the pink robe, touching the fabric of it gently until my hand fell to the vanity. Without hesitation, I opened the small vanity drawer, reaching my hand all the way to the back and retrieved a small compact. My eyes stared at it, watching as I opened the seemingly normal compact, filled with pressed powder anda pouf. It was anything but. I used a small nail file to pop the bottom of the small makeup tin open, revealing a small compartment with my favorite powder. Using my long pinky nail, I scooped the perfect amount of the white substance from the compact and lifted it to my nose, inhaling it entirely with one hard sniff. Wiping my nose, I turned to my reflection one last time as I began to lose myself in a rabbit hole of lingering thoughts.

You see, the staff at Eden’s Inferno had many rules, especially for us dancers. We weren’t supposed to linger or interact with the customers outside our sets, we couldn’t drink with the crowd or take rides home after hours, and we sure as hell weren’t supposed to do drugs. These rules were one of the many reasons the club was said to operate so well, flourishing in this time and age. But secretly, we all broke them. Every dancer had her drug of choice, taking hits in the bathroom or shooting up between costume changes. We all took a little pill before our shifts or snorted that pretty white powder in between sets. It was how we managed this gig. Yes, Eden’s Inferno was safer than most establishments, but it still had its demons, especially for us dancers. We may appear glowing and unbothered on stage, carelessly putting on these intoxicating showcases of our bodies, but once that shift was over and we returned to our lives outside the club, it was hell. Men would recognize us out on the streets, taunting and haggling for a private dance and show. Wives and mothers would spit at our feet and scold us for turning to a life of sin, blaming us for seducing their husbands and draining their bank accounts as if it was our fault that those dicks they married had wandering eyes and appetites. Some places, no matter how much money you threw at them, refused to even serve us, calling us whores and trash. We may dress up in wings and parade around like angels in these walls, but out in the real world, we were the disgraced harlots of society. And the mental strain ofthat burden weighed heavily on all of us. So, yes, we broke the rules and did what we needed to survive. We didn’t follow the club’s rules, we followed our own rules. And the real rules of the club were silently written amongst ourselves: you don’t snitch on your fellow dancers, you don’t steal from another’s earnings, and you mind your fucking business.

“Two minutes, Dottie!” Patty shouted past the dressing room, gently breaking the warm haze on my mind.

I came to Eden’s Inferno to start over. To escape my past. I might have been the new dancer here, but I was no stranger to this life or the cons associated with it. Before Eden’s Inferno, I worked at another known joint on the whole other coast, dancing there for a couple years. Sadly, they didn’t care to enforce such rules on their staff, let alone the dancers. We weren’t worth that kind of commitment. And being that naive innocent girl I was, I made the mistake of falling in love with one of my regulars. It was hard not to feel some type of way towards the customers. When you’re on that stage, dancing and performing, you feed off their energy. Your body melts into the music and becomes the beat itself and you see the effect you have on them as they throw all their hard earned money at you, begging you to take it. All so they could get a glimpse of your body and lose themselves in a fantasy if even just for a minute. It wasn’t just dancing… it was power. And when you step out on the stage and that music starts, you put every person there in the room under your spell.

That very spell I performed not only captured my ex, Juan, but I fell for it myself. It was foolish and stupid, I know that now. But then, it felt so right. I would run from the club and straight into his old beat-up pickup truck, eager to go home with him. At first, it was perfect. We’d spend all night talking and fucking, drunk on one another. But eventually, jealousy and anger began to creep into the unseen cracks of our so-called relationship. Hebecame a monster, threatening and controlling me. I thought I loved him, but I think I just loved the idea of him. The idea that someone out in this big old world thought I was worth loving, despite my flaws and imperfections. But that wasn’t love.

Eventually, Juan would take my earnings and spend it on his many recreational drugs, something I sadly went along with overtime. When the drugs and money weren’t enough to subdue his misery, he’d beat me, calling me a whore and a slut, leaving me battered and broken, unable to put up a fight when he’d force me, fucking the very thing he vocally hated. Eventually, I became nothing more than a piece of property to him—a trophy to be admired and showed off to all the men, as if possessing me was this giant form of masculinity to boast about. I was barely surviving Juan when he decided I was worth more being sold to others. That’s when I began to fight back. I refused to be rented out and used. I decided it was enough. And that’s when I nearly died.

Juan didn’t like me saying no. He beat me so badly that day, claiming to prove just how worthless I really was. He didn’t stop swinging and hitting me, nearly choking me to death. I had to pretend to pass out to survive, waiting until he left to move. And when I knew he was gone, I ran, never looking back. Over time, I made my way here, to Eden’s Inferno. I changed my name and my entire appearance, lightning my hair and perfecting everything about me until I became the very thing he could never have again. An angel.

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