Nudity For Fun and Profit Chapter Fourteen: Mr. Phenomenal

Anna drives her elbow into my ribs as she passes me in the aisle.

“Hey!” I cry out.

She whirls around and glances at me disdainfully. “Excuse me,” she says, and continues walking.

I follow her. Petty, catty – I can handle it all, and I really don’t care. But now this girl has laid a hand on me, and that means she’s gone too far.

“Ahem,” I cough, almost in her ear.

She turns once more. “What?”

“Do not ever, under any circumstances, touch me again. There will be no second chance. Are we clear on this one?”

Anna smirks. “What are you going to do? You are tough now? Maybe you will kick my ass? I do not think so.”

“How about if I go talk to Tim right now?” I suggest. “It’s a conversation that’s beyond overdue.”

“I hope you will talk to Tim.” Now she’s smiling faintly. “Tim will tell you that you have overactive imagination. After that, he will always think of you as troublemaker. Go look at paperwork. I make lots of money for club every night. You make shit.” She stares at me hard. “So go be tattle-tale.”

She walks over to the customer who just waved at me, sits in his lap, and I’m left staring after her with my mouth open.

“I feel your pain,” says a deep voice behind me.

I pivot, and am surprised to see Mr. Phenomenal standing behind me. I never thought I’d encounter this guy again. He’s way too sexy to be in here.

Then I flush with embarrassment as it dawns on me that Mr. Phenomenal has also just seen Anna crack an egg on my head and drip it all over my face. Damn it.

“Anastasia’s impossible, isn’t she.”

He’s got warm brown eyes. Lashes that my mother would say are wasted on a boy. Come on, Alicia! Swallow the cat that’s got your tongue and just say something to him.

I feel like I’m back in high school, staring at the quarterback from the safety of my locker with the same stupid butterflies in my stomach. But I recover. I’m in the club. This is business.

“If by Anastasia you mean Anna, then yes, she’s certainly difficult,” I admit.

“Strong women usually are,” he says, sitting down and patting the seat next to him. “Looks like she has it in for you, huh? That’s typical.”

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to pardon me, because I’m feeling like maybe I’ve missed something,” I say to him. “Do you know Anna?”

“You could say that I’m a regular customer of hers.” He looks embarrassed.

Well, he should be. I stand up. “Good luck with that. It was nice to meet you. I’m sure she’ll be with you momentarily.”

I don’t care how much money this guy has got. I really don’t want to know anyone who likes Anna enough to be her regular customer.

“Wait,” he says, putting his hand gently on my arm.

“Would you like to buy the lady a drink?” blurts Katie the waitress from out of nowhere.

I’m getting blindsided from every direction – I didn’t even notice when she walked up to us. I’m just not on top of my game at all tonight, am I?

“Yes, and five dance tickets, please,” says Mr. Maybe-Not-So-Phenomenal-After-All as he reaches into his side pocket.

Terrific. We’re not allowed to refuse drinks or dances from any customer. Now I’m stuck with him. And to make matters worse, I’m still just as attracted to him as I was before he told me he was Anna’s customer. This is really not good.

“Here you go, Josh, your drink is coming right up, and that’ll be a hundred and twenty dollars,” says Katie with a saccharine smile. “And please don’t forget your waitress.”

“Here you go, darlin’.” He gives her another twenty.

“It’s good to see you back, hon,” she says happily, and wanders off in search of my drink. She didn’t even ask me what kind of juice I wanted. It doesn’t much matter. He has to pay for it, and I have to sit with him. I don’t actually have to drink it.

Angels is the proud purveyor of twenty dollar juice drinks, and fake beer that most of the customers think is real. It took me my whole first week to realize that the club didn’t serve alcohol. Apparently nude clubs don’t have liquor licenses.

I sit back down. “Josh, is it?” I sigh.

“It is indeed. What’s your name?”

“Nadia.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nadia. And what’s your real name?”

“Oh, I can see exactly why you two get along.”

Katie sails back over and hands me a cup with an umbrella. I take a sip. Ugh. Grapefruit juice. I put it down on the table next to me.

“Come on, honey, don’t be like that,” Josh implores.

“You know, I get that she’s gorgeous,” I tell him, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “I have eyes. But other than that, what do you see in her? No, wait, better question. How much money have you spent on that girl?”

Josh gazes down at his shoes. “Not enough,” he says. “She’s ignoring me.”

I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Did I hear you right? You give her your money… and then she ignores you? Wow.” I shake my head in amazement. “I guess masochists come in all shapes and sizes. Even in cute shapes and sizes – ”

“The new song just started,” Josh interrupts. “Aren’t you gonna dance for me?”

“You bet,” I say, getting up to hover in front of him. “Dance ticket, please?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“You don’t like nice girls. Remember?” I hold out my hand. Josh plunks a dance ticket into it. I slip the funny money into my garter and put my hand out a second time.

“What now?” he wants to know.

“You’ve got four more.”

“Who says they’re all for you?”

“You do, unless you want an air dance,” I whisper firmly. “My butt never touches your lap. There is still a limit, you know, to what they can make us do in here.”

The sexual tension, made even more potent by the distinct aromas of power and money, hangs between us like a layer of smoke.

Josh slides the rest of his funny money into my garter. “You win, beautiful,” he says. “Now start dancing.”

I lean in close to his face and begin to open the strings to my negligee. “You’re almost as impossible as she is,” I say in a husky voice. I rock my hips, noticing with dismay that a surge of warm blood is rushing to my crotch. It’s really a good thing that a woman’s arousal isn’t as obvious as a man’s.

“You want to kiss me, don’t you.” Josh’s eyes gleam.

“I do,” I confess. “I also want to slap you. Fortunately for both of us, I’m a professional, and so I’m not going to do either.”

“Pity,” he says, looking hungrily at my breasts as I unleash them right in his face.

I turn around and begin grinding softly in his lap. Oh, Lord have mercy. His pants are thin. I don’t think he’s wearing underwear. I can feel everything. And everything, in this case, feels like a lot.

“Well, you might as well spill the beans,” I murmur, partially to change the subject. “What, in your opinion, is Anna’s problem with me?”

“That one should be easy enough for you to figure out.” His hand comes up to rest on my thigh. I push it off. They’re not allowed to touch us. “It’s the same reason men are still running the world.”

“Do tell.” I cock my head.

“Strong women never travel in packs,” he explains. “They tear each other apart instead. There’s no such thing as healthy competition between two women, because women take no prisoners. You’re all one hundred percent evil.”

“Anna doesn’t think I’m strong,” I contradict. “She looks down on me because she thinks I’m weaker than she is. She’s a bully.”

“Don’t kid yourself, darlin’,” Josh chuckles. “It takes one to know one.”

At four AM on the dot, a Frank Sinatra tune that’s completely incongruous with lap dancing comes blasting over the house speakers. The club is suddenly flooded with light. My co-workers head for the dressing room like homing pigeons.

Tim looks at me. “Let’s go, Nadia. Closing time.”

I yawn and follow everyone else downstairs. Despite that nonsense with Anna earlier, it’s been a really good night. After tipping the DJ and paying for a taxi home, I’ll still have made almost five hundred dollars. And much of that off Anna’s customer. I’m smiling to myself.

As I walk into the basement, everyone abruptly stops chattering. Some of them stare at me. Others avoid meeting my eyes altogether. Their reactions remind me of a bad eighties sitcom without the laugh track.

Oh, come on. What could it be this time?

I grab my bag. Eventually, a girl starts talking, someone else answers her, and the normal dressing room clamor begins again. But several of the dancers continue to sneak peeks at me. It’s more than a little unnerving.

I untie my negligee and change into old, baggy sweats and sneakers – the after-hours uniform of the stripper who doesn’t go clubbing. I no longer bring decent street clothes to Angels. We don’t have lockers here. If our things don’t get ruined, they might get stolen instead. It’s wisest to just leave anything valuable at home.

The last joint of the night is finding its way around the room. Alannah taps me on the shoulder and holds it out in my direction.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke,” I answer.

In fact, all the potheads in the club know that already. So why is she offering?

“If I was you, girl,” Alannah says darkly, “I’d watch my back around here.”

“Excuse me? Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” I’m confused. This is a girl I don’t even usually talk to except to say hello and goodbye.

“No, ma. Just good advice.” She passes the joint to Kaia, but keeps staring at me.

Kaia stares at me too, sullenly and without blinking.

“Okay, this is starting to feel too much like a women’s prison movie, so why doesn’t someone just tell me what’s going on?” I say, looking around the room.

A toilet flushes. Sara comes out from the bathroom stall and stands in front of me. “You’re not stupid,” she says. “And I don’t think you’re crazy. So why would you dance for Anna’s boyfriend?”

My mouth opens. “You’re joking, right? What would Anna’s boyfriend be doing in here?”

“How many young guys did you grind your ass on tonight?” Sara asks. “Not exactly our target market, is it? This ain’t Saturday, when all the frat boys come into the club. So no one stood out to you at all?”

I let out a deep breath. That would be Josh. Otherwise known as Mr. Definitely-Not-Even-Close-To-Phenomenal.

“That guy. Right.” I run a hand through my hair. “He told me he was her customer.”

Sara rolls her eyes and puts her coat on. “Honey, that boy’s been comin’ in here for weeks now with the most pathetic little puppy dog look on his face. Climbing up everyone’s ass and wantin’ to know if Anna plays around on him.” She shakes her head. “If you ask me, it’s the same story you hear every time. Fella thought it would be cool to date a dancer, and now he can’t deal with the reality of the situation.” She clucks her tongue. “You wanna stay far away from that mess.”

“I’m nowhere near that mess,” I protest. I yank my woolen hat down over my ears. “On the other hand, his money is as green as anyone else’s.”

“That didn’t look like no regular lap dance, hon,” Sara replies.

“I don’t care what it looked like. That’s what it was.”

Sara gives me a pitying look. “You don’t wanna get involved with a customer. Take my word for it. It never goes anyplace good.” She pauses, and leans toward me, lowering her voice. “Especially if it’s got anything to do with those two. Neither of them is playin’ with a full deck.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her. “Goodnight, everyone.”

A few girls mumble some pretty weak goodbyes. I haul my tired body up the stairs, nodding at Tim on the way out. Ronnie opens the door for me. I step onto the sidewalk and begin hunting for an empty cab.

I walk toward one of the taxis, but stop mid-stride when I see that the driver’s already got someone in the backseat. Ditto for the cab behind it. I sigh with disappointment. It’s going to be light out today before I see my bed. I turn around aimlessly.

There’s a guy and a girl standing in front of the parking garage next door to Angels, facing each other and having a lively discussion. I can’t make out any of what they’re saying, but it looks like a pretty heated argument. The girl’s head is tilted and her hands are on her hips. The guy puts his arm around her waist possessively. She shakes him off. They appear to be totally oblivious to anyone else’s presence.

I squint to get a better glimpse of the couple. When I see who they are, my heart sinks.

A parking attendant pulls up to them in a gray Lexus. He gets out of the car and hands Anna the keys. She eases herself into the driver’s seat. Josh tries to open the other door and finds it locked. He pounds on the passenger’s side window.

“Come on, Anastasia!” I hear him yell.

The car starts to pull out of the lot. Then it stops short. She’s fucking with him.

Josh slaps the window again with an open hand, but more softly this time. He stares at the ground, defeated. Just as it looks like he’s about to give up, he tries the door again. This time he’s able to open it.

I watch in amazement as Josh jumps into the Lexus with Anna, slamming the passenger door. The car speeds down the block and away.

So the girls at Angels were right.

I have to say, I just don’t get it. Why is it that the best looking guys I ever meet always fall obsessively in love with the world’s most heinous bitches?

It occurs to me that phenomenal can mean a lot of things, and not all of them have to be good.

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