Make Me Weak

By: Megan Noelle

A strobe flickered around the stage. Dark Horse by Katy Perry began, the crowd cheered but I tuned them out. In a slow prowl I made my way to the pole in the middle of the catwalk. As soon as Katy’s voice echoed around the space I stripped the trench coat off. Sliding it down my arms, letting it drop to the floor. My hands cinched around the pole, my eyes looked to the crowd around me. Countless eyes held onto me as I swirled my hips and walked in a sensually slow circle around it. With my ass to the crowds of men I climbed the pole to the top, locked my thighs tight and dropped backwards.

The black and purple corset accentuated my assets—slim waist, wide hips and made my boobs look fuller than reality. Locking my hands tight I held myself as my legs released, doing the splits midair. My body loosened, I tumbled down the pole until my legs were spilt on the floor. I stood and took hold again, swinging myself around letting my legs wind slowly around. My hips rocked back and forth until I dropped to the floor on my back. Rolling to my knees I arched my back and crawled to the edge of the stage. The barely there G-string was soon filled with bills but I kept moving.

Rolling my stomach, bouncing my ass up and down, spreading my legs as wide as they could go. It all received the male praise I loved, brining in the money I needed. The song was reaching its end, I ran at the pole, my hands caught me and my body swung around again. As the music ended, the house lights brightened a little more, giving me a chance to blow kisses to the men still focused on my body.

With a final wink at the crowd I disappeared backstage, people called out for Kandi to come back. It never stopped me from heading to my lighted station though. A few other dancers glared at me as I passed, but there was nothing unusual about that. The second my ass was in my chair my balding manager Maurizio appeared in the mirror behind me.

“What the hell was that crap?” I flicked my emerald eyes to his once before returning to my own reflection. Black eye shadow, copious amounts of eye liner and mascara, with the addition of a few glitter crystals made my face look almost unrecognizable. Sometimes I could hardly believe this is what my life has become. Using my years of professional dance experience to shake my ass up and down a pole in some raunchy club. Yeah, definitely never had this dream as an innocent little girl. Granted, this was one of the better clubs in the city—the best actually. It still didn’t change what it was or what I did to end up here.

“Hello! Can you hear me?”

Sighing, I spun around to face him. “That was a dance. You know, what we all do here.”

“You don’t just get paid to prance your little ass up on my stage. When you are up there you need to really give them a show. You didn’t even let them see your tits. Who the fuck is going to come back if one of my top dancers doesn’t even show boob?”

Leisurely I applied another layer of my soft pink lipstick. It was a cheap thrill of mine to watch Maurizio’s face turn lobster red, but I managed it nightly.

I got to my feet, eyeing him up and down. I was only 5’1, in heels a few inches taller but I was still a peanut compared to Maurizio’s giant-self. It never fazed me though, I could hold my own.

“You’re forgetting one important thing, Maurizio.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that Kandi?” He asked, putting extra emphasis on my stage name. Reminding me that while I was here, I was under his jurisdiction.

I smirked. “I am one of your top dancers here because of them. You may hate me, what I do and how I do it. But they don’t.” I pointed past him to where the crowd was. He snarled at me, steam rolling from his nostrils like a bull about to charge. Patting his abnormally large shoulder I pushed past him.

“You are due at a table in one minute.” I stopped walking and rolled my eyes.

“You know I need a smoke after my dance.”

“Too damn bad, Princess.” I whirled around to stare at him. His beady little eyes looking out of place in his big head and right now, the sight was pissing me off.

“You’re doing this shit on purpose.”

“If you say so. Except, the one who is paying for the dance is one of my buddies from the old days. It’s his nephew’s birthday and he requested the best. I suggested you, because despite your horseshit attitude, people do love you. Go and make this good. Give the boy what he wants and I can guarantee my buddy will tip you so fucking much your bills will be covered for the next few months.”