Page 11 of Dollhouse

"Yeah, Jamie asked me to cover her shift. You can ride with me." She walks off toward her bedroom, leaving me to clean up the mess from her failed breakfast concoction.

Cassie and I have both worked and lived together for months now. We met during my interview, and ever since then, she's taken me under her wing and decided that we're friends, and we've been inseparable ever since. On my first night at work, I was glued to her side, and she taught me everything she knows. Now we're roommates, and she's the sister I never had. Crazy how someone can mean so much to you in a short amount of time.

Even with the walls I'd put up to protect myself, she bulldozed them all down. I'll forever be grateful for her.

"Cassie, let's go! We're going to be late!" It was truly amazing how this damn girl could take so long to get ready before work, only to get there and spend another hour getting ready.

"Hold your fucking panties, sunshine," she says, walking into the living room with both middle fingers in the air and a grin on her pink lips. We share a giggle, and arm in arm, we leave our apartment and make our way outside toward her car.

Our apartment building isn't anything fancy, but it's perfect for us, and it's become home. The only place I've ever truly felt comfortable and the only true home I've ever had. It's ours, and no one can take it from us. Even if it’s run-down and could use a fresh coat of paint, it's our home.

The minute Cassie starts the car, she connects her phone to the Bluetooth. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts instantly blast from the speakers. We both sing our hearts out, and by the time we arrive at the club, I'm pumped up and ready to start my shift.

It's nine at night on a Monday, and I'm sitting in the dressing room with the other dancers doing my hair and makeup to get ready for my first set of the night. I know it'll be busy despite the fact it's a weekday.

Sinners is the most popular strip club in the city. It's not your typical strip club either. This place is upscale and has an elite client list four miles long, with an even longer waiting list. Every member must be thoroughly vetted and sponsored by an existing member. There are security guards everywhere to protect the dancers. We're not allowed to be touched; we can only be touched when the client has paid for it in the VIP rooms. Even then, security stands guard outside the door, ready to interfere if needed. Thankfully, it's never gotten to that point with me. All of the members are respectful and know the boundaries. If they ever did cross the line, they'd be at risk of losing their membership.

Yeah, I know. What type of strip club has memberships with monthly fees? Sinners.

As I said, it's not your typical strip club.

"Welcome Raven to the stage!" the MC announces, and the crowd goes wild with roaring cheers. Every time Dustin, the club's MC, introduces me, I get the same response. I'm an absolute crowd pleaser, a favorite for our clients.

Every night my makeup is the same. My eyeshadow is a dark smokey eye with winged eyeliner and a deep red lipstick, and I tie the lace masquerade mask around my eyes.

Again, as I said, Sinners isn't your typical strip club. All of the dancers wear a masquerade mask at all times, and when the clients enter, they wear theirs. We're never allowed to remove our masks, never to reveal our true selves. When you're here, you're someone else. That's partially why Sinners is as popular as it is.

Tonight, I'm dressed in red lace lingerie with black fishnet stockings that go up to my thighs and connects to my garter with a pair of red bottom stilettos. With applause from the crowd, I make my way to the stage as “Pour It Up” by Rihanna begins playing. Both men and women are seated in front of the stage, their complete attention on me when I wrap my hand around the pole. My body moves in perfect sync to the beat of the music. I swing on the pole and roll around the stage, all eyes on me, and never once do they stray. I hold them in a trance, all the while Iosing myself in the music and rolling my body against the pole.

I dance through two songs, and not once does my clothing slip. Another thing about Sinners—fully nude is not allowed on the main stage. The only way to see a dancer nude is to purchase a VIP room.

Our naked bodies are reserved only for those who pay the extra fee, and the strip show is only done by the girls comfortable enough to be fully nude, which not all of the dancers are, myself included.

"Hey, Raven, there's a request for you in VIP room six. Check in with Bobby when you're ready," Cecelia, the floor manager, says as soon as I exit the stage. Around here, we don't use our real names. We shed our names and true identities at the door the moment we step inside the darkness of Sinners. The name—Raven—was given to me on my first night because of my hair.

My raven-colored hair falls halfway down my back, and my bangs curtain my eyes. Finishing my look are my turquoise eyes, even brighter, paired with my pitch-black hair, making them almost neon and unreal.

The clients can request whichever dancer they want for their time in the VIP rooms, but they're given a list of rules and are made aware of what we will and will not do. Personally, when a client requests for me, they know I won't reveal my entire body to them. I don't like being nude, but they want to watch me dance anyway, and I like to put on a show. Sometimes they'll even pleasure themselves, which I don't mind. They get off to the sight of me dancing. I'd rather have them do it to themselves than try to touch me.

With a nod, I do as Cecelia says. I make my way to VIP room six, where Bobby, one of the bodyguards, is already standing outside the door, where he will remain until the client's appointment ends. "Hey, Raven, how's it going tonight?" he greets me with a smile. He's always friendly, and I feel safe with him when I get to have him posted outside of my room for the VIP dances.

"Hi, Bobby. I'm tired but good. How's Meg?" His wife is seven months pregnant, and last week, Bobby told me about her massive swollen ankles and how her hormones made her a nightmare to live with.

"She's doing fine. Still wants to cut my balls off for knocking her up, though." He laughs, throwing his thumb over his shoulder."You've got three guys in the room. They're aware of the rules and know what they're getting with you." I look up at him with wide eyes. I've never entertained more than one person at a time before. It's always been singles that requested me. Groups never request me because I wasn't willing to do even half of the things the other dancers are comfortable with doing.

"Are they regulars?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I don't believe so, but you know the drill. Press the alarm or holler if you need me. Good luck, kid." With a nod and a wave, I open the door and step inside, pulling apart the sheer curtains that greet me after stepping inside the door. The room is dim, matching the same ambience as the rest of the club. In the center of the room is a small stage with a pole; to the left, there's a red sectional against the wall, large enough to seat twelve. To the right of the stage is an open minibar. The members can make their own drinks or request to have a bartender in the room to make their drinks. Walking further into the room, I stop in my tracks when the first set of eyes connect with mine.

Deep chocolate eyes stare into mine, and time stands still. I pull my gaze from his intense stare, and next, I'm staring into emerald eyes that glow underneath his mask. Next was the final man in the room. The third set of eyes were a beautiful hazel. I took in the sight of all three men that stood before me, my eyebrows pulling together when I realized they wore full face masquerade masks; all that was visible was their eyes. Each set of eyes is completely captivating in its own way. They're all wearing suits, and they drip dominance with every passing second. The air in the room becomes thick and suddenly feels small and stuffy. My heart hammers in my chest. I've never felt intimidated by clients before, but I do standing in front of them. I feel small next to their large presence and appearance.

The three men are tall and tower over me; even wearing heels, they are much taller than me. Not so subtly, I let my eyes roam over their bodies, and I don't need to see them without their jackets to know they're muscular. These men are powerful, and here they stand in my room, requesting me specifically.

Weird.

We stand in a stare-off for who knows how long until the brown-eyed guy takes a seat and the other two follow his lead.

Hmm, okay, so brown eyes must be the alpha.

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