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DOT

The well lit vanity 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 and a 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 of that 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. He became 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.

“It’s time, Dottie.” Patty rushed into the room, carrying my large feathered pastel pink wings. All the dancers wore them as we were the angels in Eden’s Inferno. They were each handmade with real feathers and plastered in sequins, rhinestones and crystals that sparkled and flowed effortlessly as we moved. They were famous. People would travel from all over the world to watch an angel perform, and now, I was one of them.

With a deep inhale, I forced a smile and stepped back, allowing Patty to place my pink wings around my shoulders and arms, nestling them perfectly against my body. She then helped me into the matching pink platform heels, strapping them around my ankles as the tips of my wings trailed down past them and kissed the floor. My torso turned and twisted as I adjusted my hair and examined myself one last time.

“Damn, Dottie.” Patty exhaled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an angel as beautiful as you.” I turned to face her, meeting her smile with my own. “Go get them, baby girl.” She winked.

The music filled the air of the club, the volume of it growing as I stepped to the edge of the stage and listened, adjusting my wings as the cheering crowd of men whistled and cat-called. The dancer before me was on her knees, taking clumps of the bills they had tossed at her and rubbed them along her semi-naked body with a devious smile. Her sienna colored skin glistened beneath the lights, smothered in body glitter and the eyes of the men gathered near the stage. She wore her own set of wings, smaller than mine but far more grand as each feather was hand painted gold and dusted in crystals that caught every angle of the lighting as she moved. The dancer’s name was Jade—well, her stage name. We all had one, picked based on the energy and persona we exhumed to the owners when they hired us. Once a name was chosen for us, we had to perform in such a way that no one would question it. And hers fit her well.

Jade wore a tiny thong tied around her hips, emerald green and gold floral pasties, gold jewelry, and her platform heels. It wasn’t much, but she could prance naked on the stage and still have this wave of confidence to her. She was so beautiful. I nearly fell under the spell of her dancing as I watched her toss her long pitch-black hair around. All the dancers here were so talented, I almost didn’t feel worthy to call myself one.

Breathe. You’ve earned your place here, Dot. Just breathe.

The green lights lowered as Jade shook her ass one last time, blowing a kiss to the lively crowd as more money rained all around her. She gracefully gathered her well earned cash, tucking what she could between the tiny strap of her thong and clutching the rest to her breasts as she dallied backstage. Jade nearly ran into me, surprised to find me.

“My bad!” She smiled. “Wow, you look amazing, Dot!” The crowd cheered once more. “The crowd is hungry tonight. I got them all warmed up for you. Now go serve them that sweet dessert they all crave.” Jade winked, gently brushing past me as the lights shifted from the green to various shades of pink. The music for my set began to play, slowly coming to life as a warm wave of ecstasy washed over me.

It was time. I took a deep breath, adjusted my wings and stepped out onto the stage.

As soon as my platform heel hit the scuffed stage floor, I fell into routine. The stage name persona given to me came alive, possessing me as even my walk changed, moving in a way to enhance every bit of my features.

“Here she is, our sweet and not so innocent angel, Bubbles!” The crowd erupted as I appeared, energized by their excitement.

I stepped to the center stage, elegantly grabbing the stripper pole, all lights and eyes on me as I sparkled like a pink diamond in the night. I wasn’t sure if it was the cocaine, the music, or the idea of being watched, but my body began to burn, swaying with the beat as it throbbed in my bones.

I twirled around the silver pole, my wings gliding in the air as I spun and stopped, dropping and bending my knees with a smile. Men whistled and hollered as I softly bounced on my knees and tossed my hair. I wanted to look out in the sea of faces and find them, but I knew it was risky. Risky yet tempting.

My body bounced a little more before I snapped my knees back and took my time rising, gripping the pole as I ran my tongue along it until I was fully standing. The men went wild, throwing money on the stage as I began to feel weightless. My leg wrapped around the pole and I began to swing, my wings flowing behind me as the world blurred. I was dissolving into the music and voices, drifting between reality and fantasy. Something caught my eyes as I slowed and stopped, my back slamming against the cold metal as it pressed into my spine. My heart raced as I stared ahead at them. Patty was right. They were here, and they were watching me.

Fuck the rules. If they want to watch, then I’m going to give them a show.

My hands grazed along my body, touching all my curves as I stared back at them, removing my bra and tossing it aside with a wide smile. The crowd lost it, watching as I felt myself, touching my breasts, gliding my hands along my sternum back up towards my neck. I reached back and grabbed the pole, taking my time as I slid down to my knees and blew them a kiss. Their bedazzled masks tilted, noticing my attention was on them.

That’s right, I see you. Now keep those eyes on me, you devils. I’m dancing for you.