Page 3 of Give In
With my demanding school schedule, I’d been limited to working nights. Like almost all working college students I knew, that meant bartending or serving. I’d made okay money, but nowhere near enough to justify the hours I’d put in.
Something had to give. And at the rate I’d been going, that something would’ve been my health and sanity.
At my breaking point, I’d had to make a choice.
I could drop out of college and give up my dreams.
Quit working, and eventually give up my dreams because I could no longer afford college.
Or food.
Or shelter.
The third option had been to push myself out of my comfort zone, hoping it’d be worth it in the end.
Which was exactly what I’d done.
Sinners was a small strip club located an hour from my apartment. It was on the smaller side, but that wasn’t a con to me. Busier clubs had tried to poach me, but I hadn’t been interested. A bigger audience meant more money, but it also increased the risk of getting caught.
I was happy with the small club. Because the owners ran a tight ship, there was little-to-no drama. The place was clean, security was plentiful, and the money was amazing. Most importantly, it was a business and was operated as such. There were strictly enforced rules about fraternizing, drug use, and appearance.
My second night there, another new girl had come in with bloodshot eyes. I’d just assumed, like me, she was stretched thin and exhausted. Charlie, one of the owners, took one look at her and demanded to see her arm. Within thirty seconds, security had escorted her out.
No one wanted a junkie grinding against their junk.
All things considered, I liked my job. Okay, I liked the money I made.
I’d never, in the entire six months I’d been stripping, regretted my choice.
Not until that night.
Fuck it. I’m no coward.
With my head held high, I went out to work the main room.
But only the side of the main room farthest from him.
Okay, I’m a little bit of a coward.
*******
Damien
What’re the chances?
No, what’re thefuckingchances?
Dave, my college roommate, was getting married. Though bachelor parties and strip clubs weren’t my thing, I’d agreed to go for him. I’d thought a night out would do me good.
Never in a million damn years would I have guessedshe’dbethere.
Not just there, but there dancing under the ridiculous stage name, Mandi.
Eden.
MyEden.
She was named after the garden of pleasure. The holder of untold bounty. The place where sin lurked and temptation dwelled.
