Page 121 of Ewan

“You’re not gonna like this,” he says in response to my crazy eyes.

“What now?”

He studies me for a second, not because he is intimidated by me, but because he wants to say what he needs to say as quickly as possible.

“Someone asked for a private dance after the show.”

I plop my hand up the door frame.

“What?? What is a private dance exactly?”

“Dancing in a costume like this for a client in private.”

I stare at him, washed in disbelief.

“Is that why you didn’t like my catsuit and wanted me to change?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m not dancing privately for anyone.”

He doesn’t flinch.

“I think you will and like it too.”

He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out two rolls of cash.

I push my eyes down.

“One is for me, and one is for you,” he says.

“How much?”

“Five grand each.”

“What??”

His eyes flicker with anger.

“I don’t have time for this. You finish dancing and go to him. He paid for an hour with you. You dance. You rub his dick. I don’t care. You get your money when you’re done.”

This story moves so fast that I don’t have time to think about it.

“Do I need to have sex with him?”

“You don’t need to do anything. You try to be as pleasant as you can be so we can get our money.”

“It’s not fair,” I say, looking at the cash in his hand.

He pulls it back and shoves it into his pocket.

“You’re doing nothing,” I argue. “I’m doing all the work.”

“I’m doing a lot of work, too,” he says, a cynical smirk on his lips. “I’ll have to not tell on you,” he adds. “That’s a lot of work.”

“Tell on me? What do you know about me?” I ask suspiciously.

“It doesn’t matter. Go dance now.”

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