A gay story: MARS Ch. 02-03 CHAPTER TWO | POLE PRINCE
♂
The bass is heavy, radiating from the club’s speakers. Milky Way Playhouse just opened, and it’s already hype with energy. The Weekend raps about making bitches wet and fucking her friends while women dance topless over men. It’s dark in here, illuminated by pink, purple, and blue neon lights. The only white lighting raised over the bar where a lady mixes up a cocktail. A redheaded girl with moles and large breasts in a bikini takes center stage. She lifts her body up the pole, platform heels to the air, and shakes her butt to the crowd. Mostly men watch her dance, throwing dollars on the stage. This is the lower level, and it’s always busy downstairs.
On the second level is a different story. Cardi B slow raps over a heavy bass. The main lights are purple, blue, and green, especially around the sign ‘THE LGBT LEVEL’ above the main stage where a black man with long dark dreads twerks in front of a pole. Before him are both women and men and those in between, much less in density than the lower level.
Guys in speedos holding drinks walk around men groping other men. A pale young man with no eyebrows and a single light contact on his right eye handles the few customers at the bar. As he mixes a gentleman his cranberry vodka, a man’s high-pitched voice blares through the heavy door behind him.
“No fucking way, Dante!” A sign is posted outside saying, ‘DANCERS ONLY’. Behind the door, a black twink in only jean shorts paces around, cursing and shaking his head.
Another larger man lighter in skin tone with a cheetah jacket and puffed shoulders stands before him. His arms are folded and his red lips pinches into his cheek. “How many times do I have to tell you, Troi! It’s ‘The Dante’. Why you pressed, bitch? It’s twenty more dollars! Telling me your broke ass can’t pay a stage fee?” His extra curly and shiny hair slaps his face when he moves his head.
“Eighty dollars is reasonable, but a hundred is ridiculous.” Troi Mahogani stomps his converse on concrete to his locker where a naked nonbinary person brushes their pressed, light purple hair. “Right, XTC?” Troi points them.
XTC cocks their bushy brow. “I can afford it.” They puts their hair up into a tight ponytail, staring blankly at Troi.
“Exactly, bitch! Quit complainin’.” The Dante Jenkins whips his hair then body and struts to the office, passing other men changing into thongs and tight boxers. He swirls around to ask everyone, “Anyone else wanna bitch about a stage fee?”
“Nope.” XTC answers for everyone.
“Then pay up, whores!” The Dante holds his hand out. Troi snatches his Gucci wallet from his matching purse and pulls out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He drops the wallet inside before slamming the graffitied locker and walks across the dressing room. The door opens as he passes.
The Dante snatches the bill out of Troi’s hand and looks at the man in a black track suit and sunglasses as he wonders inside. He smiles at his headliner, “Happy birthday, Mars.” A few other guys say the same.
I take off my sunglasses. “Thank you.”
“Stage fee is a hundred dollars.” Troi points at me. “You okay with that?”
“Why did it go up?” I go to The Dante with my hand in my purse.
“Don’t worry about it.” The Dante holds his hand out. I give him a hundred, looking down on him. “Today is the day, babe. Your little birthday special. I can’t wait to see what you got.”
“I mostly dance from the heart. So, I can’t wait either.”
“You’re kidding right?” Troi tilts his head down.
“Mostly.”
The Dante humphs and faces the office. “That’s why you’re an OG.”
Troi and I go to the large, graffitied lockers. Mine is on the end next to XTC’s. These are the OG lockers because we’ve been here more than a few years. They’re decorated with slutty stickers, crude sharpie drawings, and mirrors. I greet XTC, who slid up leather shorts.
“How’s your birthday so far?” They asks me, whipping their shiny, purple ponytail over their shoulder.
“I met Sevena and a few girls at The Rager last night. We had a good time; I’m surprised she made it to work. And this morning, I fucked my neighbor again.” I grin deviously.
XTC smirks. “Your weed dealer?”
“Yep.”
Troi tilts his head dramatically. “Why haven’t we seen him yet?”
“He’s ‘straight’, remember?” I unzip my jacket.
“Show us a picture or sum.”
I go for my iPhone, clicking on Twitter and searching for his profile under ‘JackGotemBad’. There’s a good one of him where he’s posed against a wall with a goatee from a while ago. He looks so serious and sexy. I show it to Troi first. “This is him. Young Jack.”
“He is cute. Damn!” Troi leans against the wall. “Tell him to stay on the main level. I wanna see his ass in person.”
My head shakes as I show XTC. “He’s not that special. He’s just a fuck boy with a big dick.” I stare into my locker, tossing my phone in my purse. “But I think he loves me.”
“Oh, Lord. Another one bites the dust.” XTC scoffs.
I yank my pants off. “That’s what I think. I told him I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.”
The Dante calls my name. When I face him, he shouts, “Come in my office!”
I look at Troi and smile. “What did I do now?”
“Probably gonna give you head.”
“Shut up.” I stand, walking without pants across the dressing room. Inside the office is small, like a closet almost. It’s big enough to fit a desk and a few cabinets but feels like there’s never any room for more than two people. “What’s up?”
“Close the door.” The Dante commands behind the desk.
I do so and come around to sit in front of him. “Did I do something wrong?”
The Dante gives me a sharp look before going into the drawer. He pulls out a hundred-dollar bill and hands it to me. “Keep it. Consider it a birthday gift.”
I pop my brow. “Thanks. So, why did you up the stage fee?”
“It wasn’t my decision. DeQuan thinks the gay club isn’t making as much money as the girls. That’s why we have to do some more promotion.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet. Whatever I do, I want you on board.”
“Of course. I’ll do anything for Milky Way.”
“Including give a damn good birthday performance?”
I huff. “Duh.”
“Did you shave?”
“Of course, Daddy.” I lean back and stand up. “Need anything else?” I look back at him.
The Dante shakes his head. “You’re free to go.”
I strut out of the office, going back to the locker to finish changing into my first outfit; leather shorts underneath net stockings, a collar and chain dragging down my back, and knee-high leather boots that glossed under the light. Over by the makeup section, I join alpha Jay Blonde by the mirror. “Hey, Jay.” I start to put the top half of my hair up into a bun.
“Enjoying your birthday?” He asks as he finished applying false lashes. Jay smells similar to Jack, only his smell is less intense.
“I am actually.” My makeup is already done and won’t be touched until my performance.
“What are you? Thirty?” He chuckles lightly.
I give him a stank look in the mirror. “Twenty-eight.”
“Thirty.” Jay nods. “Little old to be stripping, don’t you think?” He thinks he’s the shit because he’s only twenty-four and has been working a year longer than me. I admit, he’s good, but not my level of good.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why I bother with you.” My heels clack away from him towards the heavy door.
“Not gonna finish your makeup?” He gives me a sharp look through the mirror.
“I look better natural.” I leave, making eye contact with Mourne Rue behind the bar.
“Yo.”
“Happy birthday.” Mourne turns around to grab a drink off the counter. He hands it to me. “I made you your favorite cocktail.”
I look back at the door then to the drink. “I shouldn’t on the job. But thank you.” I snicker, taking the glass filled with red. There’s a celery stick poking out and a lime on the frosted rim. “It’s pretty.” The tomato juice is overwhelming and it’s spicy. I take a few sips of the Bloody Mary before handing the half-empty glass back to Mourne. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.” He puts the glass in the sink as I find a patron in the sea of men. Back straight, shoulders high, I walk with confidence and weight to my steps. I tend to go for the guys with money and not blowing it. Being here for half a decade has taught me a keen eye on who to pick and who to throw away. I find a dark-skinned gentleman sitting alone on the platform. An alpha, I can tell by his bulky build and pine scent. Slowly, I approach him with my hips swaying. “Have you been helped, sir?”
He’s the only one in a mask. “I have not, handsome.”
I come closer to him, straddling his broad shoulders. “Can I be of assistance?”
He scans down my body and lifts his brows. “I believe you can. What’s your name?”
“Are you new, baby?” I point to the poster by the DJ’s booth. It’s me doing the Football Grip over my name and birthdate. “I’m Mars Aphoenix.”
“Mars Aphoenix.” He stares into my eyes, nodding his head slowly. “I like that name.”
“What’s yours, baby?” I drag my hands down his pecks.
“Dominick.”
“How about I dance for you, Dominick?” I flutter my lashes.
Dominick takes a deep breath and pulls out a wad of cash. “You do that, handsome. How much?”
“Twenty for a song.” I hold my hand out. He gives me a twenty-dollar bill. My lips remain parted as I smirk. I keep eye contact and I stuff it in my waistband. I circle him, dragging my hand down his shoulder. In front of him, I lower my chest towards his face, sticking my ass out. I swing my hips and lower myself onto him. My arms cradle his neck. “You like what you see?”
“I love your body. I could be inside you all day.”
I hum, standing back up while brushing my hair. The music guides my body, hips shaking side to side. My ass bounces and I turn around to show him. I put my hand on my knees and poke my ass out. With my thumbs in my pants, I give him a peak of my butt. I give myself a little slap, eyes continuing to stare at him.
Dominick uncurls a few singles, reaching to put them in my waistband. I fall back on him, hovering my ass over his crotch. “Keep shaking your ass like that, baby.”
I do as commanded, this time fully exposing my ass. I shake more, rocking my hips side to side. “You’re free to slap it.”
“I am?” He questions, resting his palm on my cheek.
“Just this once. I’ll allow it.” I bounce. The strike makes me moan out. Another one and I bite my lower lip. “Fuck.”
“You’re a freak, aren’t you?”
I turn around. “Yeah, baby. I can’t show you more in the private rooms.”
“You can?” Dominick smiles. “I’d like that. I’m sure there’s a price.”
“Fifty bucks.” I tilt my head.
He stands up, yanking the wad of cash out again. Dominick gives me a crisp fifty-dollar bill deep with the stack. I grin, snatching the bill from his big hands.
“Let’s go, baby.” I take his hand, leading him out of the club. Passing through people, my eye catches The Dante by the dressing room. He talks to Mourne when he notices me leave. I don’t give a second glance, taking the gentleman into the hallway.
When my hand reaches the red rope in front of the stairs, Dominick whispers in my ear, “What is your policy on sex?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m not a prostitute, baby” My eyes latch onto his from behind. “But I’ll give you a show that feels like sex.”
“Can I touch you, at least?”
My hand drags down his abdomen. “Don’t be too grabby.” I continue up the stairs, making sure to pop my ass out for him to watch.
♂
The crowd had swelled with more people. They holler my name around the center stage. The DJ announces, “Give it up for this omega beauty. It’s his birthday so holler loud. Mars Aphoenix!” The crowd goes wild, cheering for me to come out. Behind the stage I wait for the strumming of ‘MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name)’ by Lil Nas X to start. Once they start, my heels hit the platform.
A smoke machine coats the stage with fog. TVs are behind me, paused on my name and stills of me around the pole. My hand slides up my hair and down my white tank. A tiny belt wraps around my slim waist. I’m in a matching, flared skirt, and black boots. I move slowly and seductively down the stage. For the first chorus, I groove my hip and shoulders with the smooth bass. As the chorus starts, I hold my palm high and slowly walk around the pole. My back turns and I lean back into it. I start with a Carousel Spin, planting my heel back on the ground.
I lift my left leg, shin parallel to the pole. Hooking my foot around it, I bring my right leg up and squeeze. As I hover, I move my head around and twerk slowly in the air. I do a dip turn, back falling to the floor. My leg lifts up as I face the excite crowd. I climb back up the pole to do a straddle sit, flipping my head again. I fall back to the floor this time crawling. My tongue stick out as the song morphs to the chorus of ‘I Like Boys’ by Todrick Hall.
My ass bounces beneath the flares. I make sure they can see everything. Singles are being thrown in the stage and I twerk on top, bending my body down and pretending to lick the money. Sweat drips down my forehead and abdomen, glistening my tan skin under the blunt spotlights.
I remove my skirt, dropping it to my ankles. Whistles and cheers comes from the crowd. My white thong exposes my ass and I continue to bounce, gripping the back of my head as I swing my hips.
I’m having so much fun, and so are they. I go to the nearest man and grab him. My hand skim down his neck and cross necklace. I smile at him and gyrate my hips towards him. He stares at my bulge with wide eyes. Money is in his hands; he waves it before stuffing the dollars in the band. Someone else does the same and I wiggle side to side.
I stare out into the crowd with a wide smile. That is until I saw a familiar face through the darkness. It’s Moeko, she sits within the crowd. I pause for a moment, and only a moment. The show must go on. I go back to the pole and climb to the top, doing splits on my way up. Crossing my leg over the pole, I hold the Jasmine pose, dangling off.
My routine is ultra-feminine with a touch of masculinity, against some of the other guys, where they’re either feminine or masculine. Usually, you’ll find alpha male dancers in a beater shirt and jeans doing body rolls and popping their hips. Omega boys like Troi like to roughly shake their ass and do fast dances. I prefer to enchant the crowd by doing tricks that’s taken me years to accomplish. Thank God my ego is bigger than my fears. I wouldn’t be able to rip my clothes off in front of a massive crowd if I were scared.
Their cheers lead me on, empowering and motivating me to go further. I take my top off, leaving me in only a thong and boots. I dance around the pole, staring dead into the crowd. One more look at Moeko, and I remove my thong. The girls cheer louder than the men. My eyes remain on her as I swing the thong around. A few more moves on the pole and a couple shakes on the floor, I finish my performance with my famous Football Grip, dangling upside down on the pole and smiling at the crowd. The song ends and they cheer for me.
I’m breathless and my muscles are screaming. I hop off the pole and give a bow before leaving the stage. DJ Jimmy Racks shouts into the mic, “Amazing as always, Mars Aphoenix, everyone!” The crowd cheers louder, singles are being thrown on stage. I stomp off stage finding The Dante off to the side.
He gives me a hug, telling me, “You’re a flawless bitch.”
I back away and nod, “I know.”
♂
After I changed into my third outfit for the night, I searched the dance floor for Moeko. When a voice calls my name from behind, I swirl around to see my baby mama in a sleek dress and heels. Her face is caked with makeup, she looks shiny and natural. She has two heart-shaped buns on the top of her head, the rest of her hair falls down her neck. When she smiles, so do I.
I give her a hug, raising my voice in her ear. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you!” She shouts back. “Can we talk?”
I look around, landing on the exit. Taking her hand, we leave into the hall where the stairwells meet. Upstairs is the private and VIP lounge; it’s barricaded by red rope. I lean against the window, folding my arms and speaking normally. “Why are you here?”
“It’s your birthday. I’ve never seen you perform before.”
I smile. “How was I?”
Moeko lowers her eyes, hiding her growing grin. “You were good.”
“Just good?”
“Yeah, Vehren. I enjoyed it.”
My eyes lower, too. “You don’t feel embarrassed?”
She lifts my chin up. “No. You seem like you were having fun up there. This is your vibe. I’m not here to take that away from you.”
My head nods. I look around as if she could be here. “Where is Eris?”
“With my mom. I told her I was hanging out with Sariyah, which I am.”
“Ew.” My face scrunches. “Sariyah is here too?”
Moeko chuckles lightly. “She’s downstairs.”
I huff. “That makes sense.” I unfold my arms. “So… do you want a dance?”
She blushes. “Um…”
“Come on. On me, you don’t have to spend anything.”
Her head shakes. “I feel that would be rude.” She cocks her thin brow. “How much do you charge, anyways?”
“Twenty per song. Fifty for private.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh wow.”
“Like I said, it’ll be on the house.”
Moeko chuckles. “I’m good, actually.”
“What?” I step a little closer. “Scared you might fall in love with me again?”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Moeko gently pushes me back. “That ship has sailed.”
I bite my lower lip. “I know.”
“Good.” Her arms fold. She looks down the stairs and starts to back away. “I should go find Sariyah.”
“Not gonna stay?”
“I just came to see your performance. I want to get home to Eris.”
I nod. “Kiss her goodnight for me.”
Moeko nods. “I will. You have a good night, Vehren. Happy birthday, again.” She gives me another hug.
My hand pats her back. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you Tuesday?” Moeko separates from me.
“You will.” I nod.
“Okay. Bye.” Moeko waves, leaving down the stairwell. I go back into the club, seeing The Dante monitor me from the bar. Soon as I bring my body inside, Dominick steps in front of me.
“Can I confess something to you?”
I blink. “Sure.”
He lowers his mask, revealing a mustache. “I’m married. I love my wife. We have a beautiful son together. But I came here because our love life hasn’t been good lately. I didn’t intend on coming upstairs.”
My head shakes. “I’m not going to judge you, man.”
“I know you’re not. That’s why I’m here, I guess. I wanted to apologize for asking about sex. I realize how inappropriate that was.”
I smile. “The fact that you apologized shows you mean well. It’s okay.”
“I don’t know if I’ll be back. Is it okay if I get another dance?”
“You got the funds, baby?”
“I got enough for a dance and a tip. No making it rain like last time.” He pulls out this smaller wad of cash, handing me a fifty from below.
I take it and smile. “Let’s go.”
PART TWO
CHAPTER THREE | A PIMP NAMED FONTAINE
MONDAY
Lucci the French Bulldog snorts like a pig as she sniffs around the quiet bedroom. Sunlight softly shines through the open blinds above the queen size bed. Vehren’s snore is loud enough to startle the dog. She hops on the bed, sniffing the black cover up to his foot. The dog circles before falling by his leg.
Vehren wakes up, lashes separating to reveal his sunrise eyes. They’re in a daze, desolate of awareness. After a few blinks, his pupils shrink. He rolls over and sits up, staring at the dog who looks back at her owner. Vehren smacks her butt a few times, then stretches and yawns.
Once he’s out of bed, he takes his phone off the charger and wonders into the living room. Every morning starts with a wake and bake. Nine minutes past ten, the usual time for him to wake up despite not getting home until three AM. He flips on the television, commands the remote to turn on The Kardashians on Hulu, and takes a rip from the bong.
On his phone, he browses Twitter. It’s flooded with nudity from strippers and pornstars, amature and professional. He composes selfies from the night and makes a post about his birthday. “Only the baddest bitches are on this stage! Happy birthday to me! Don’t tell me I didn’t slay.” He wrote and published.
He scrolls down his feed liking pornography until he comes across a retweet from Reggie Streets. He’s going on tour. The tweet makes Vehren cringe out loud, if he could dislike he would. In the comments, people cheer this guy on despite knowing he’s a piece of trash. However, there is one comment that Vehren likes.
“Love that Reggie is still getting love even though he literally posted revenge porn of his ex-girlfriend.” An argument has brewed underneath this statement. Vehren gets off on the anger of Reggie’s fans and the straight facts this person gave back. They remain calm throughout the spam of hateful words. Vehren follows the girl and moves on to the next post.
He smiles at his co-worker from down below. Sevena Cande, the Black and Russian girl who uploaded a new video on her OnlyFans. Vehren retweets her post, adding a heart for the caption. When he clicks the link, it takes him to the app. Sevena is in a shiny, pink swimsuit swinging her hips sensually for the camera. There are over three-hundred likes, equivalent to what Vehren gets on a good day.
On his profile, Vehren has gained fifty new subscribers within the night, totally his follower count at five thousand on the dot. He takes a selfie with the bong, making a post saying thanks to his followers for getting him to such a high number. In the messages, fans ask for private videos. They’ve sent him five or ten dollars within their message. Vehren responds to each one, promising not only a video, but a live stream soon. A rarity his fans would appreciate.
By the time a half hour rolled by, Vehren got up from his spot to the bathroom. For most of the shower, he focuses on his hair, pampering and conditioning the dark strains. He shaves his pubic hair, all of it, including the hard-to-reach places. Outside of the shower, he air dries in front of the sink. The scale says one-sixty-six, which satisfies him. He’s mainly made of muscle and silicone. Brushing his teeth and grooming his face takes him another twenty minutes.
Out of the bathroom, he prepares a protein shake in the kitchen completely naked. Whey protein powder, milk, strawberries, bananas, chocolate, and finally ice all blend together in a fury. He takes a sip and nods in approval. He puts the shake into a cheetah travel cup and heads to his bedroom.
Lucci follows him, having a little sneeze attack as he waddles to the back. Vehren asks her if she okay and allows her to go in first. He prepares an outfit for the day; a simple green tank and black skinny jeans will do. Nothing too revealing or crazy, he has an impression to make. He slides his black socked feet into fresh, white Nikes with a gold chain on the back. A cross dangles down his protruding collarbone, he straightens it in the mirror coated with pictures. His eyes land on Eris sitting on a pink bike. He smiles.
Vehren fills Lucci’s food and water bowl in the dining room. Lucci runs over and munches away as he grabs his expensive purse. In the hall, he locks the door behind him and takes a deep breath before his door number, 1A. It’s raining outside, sprinkles drip onto his bare shoulders as he goes across the parking lot. Before he could reach his Challenger parked under the garage, he hears the door slam from behind.
“Yo, yo.” Jack drops down the deep step, walking up to Vehren. “Hey, birthday boy.”
“It’s not my birthday anymore.” I face my body to him.
“I know. But I saw you dancing, finally.” He grows serious. “You’re really good.”
I cock my brow. “How did you see me?”
“Your post on Twitter.”
“The one I just uploaded?” My head lowers.
He smirks. “I follow you. Is that a crime?”
“Actually, it’s cute. Did you like it?”
His lips pucker. “I will when I get back to my phone. I did bookmark it, though.” Jack huffs a chuckle.
“Of course you did. You should see me in person.”
“I’m thinking about that. It seems chill in there.”
“It is chill. There’s no judging allowed.”
Jack lifts his brows. “That’s comforting.” He tilts his head. “Where ya going?”
“A couple places. I have to sign some shit at Cherryhill Records and then meet my daughter’s pageant coach.”
His eyes widen. “Cherryhill Records? You mean you goin’ to be a singer?”
“A ghostwriter.”
“That’s not as exciting.” He chuckles. “At least you get to meet some celebrities.”
“Meet? I get to write for them. Once I get credit anyways. You know how many people use ghostwriters? It’s more than you think.”
“I don’t doubt that. You got any bars?”
I play with my jaw. “Not at the moment. I won’t be writing rap; it’ll be primarily pop. Yanno, Lady Gaga or Dua Lipa.”
“Oh, my bad. That’s cool, though. Pop fits you.”
“Thanks. What about you? Where are you going?”
Jack looks at the lot. “Meeting some friends.”
“Gangbangin’?” I pop my brow.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I scoff. “I don’t. You have fun, boo.” My body turns and I head to Coachella.
“You busy tonight?”
My head leans back. “Work.” I face him. “I’m free tomorrow. Wanna hang out?”
He smiles. “Hell yeah.”
I pop my shoulder. “Good. I’ll see you in the morning. Be ready.” I wink.
“I will be, baby.” Jack walks past me, pulling his keys out from his back pocket. He unlocks his red Dodge Avenger and climbs inside. “You be ready for a pounding.”
“I’m always ready.” I say, continuing to my car.
♂
Google Maps brought me to Canfield Street outside of downtown Detroit. I park across from Cherryhill Records in an abandoned lot. The building is at least three stories, I can’t tell because the widows reach from bottom to top. Inside is decked with gold, beautify decorated with expensive furniture. An elevator is to my right, it dings once I come across it. An omega man comes out with a laptop on his arm. He looks at me with confusion and asks, “Can I help you?”
“My name is Vehren Voegeli. I’m supposed to sign some paperwork for the ghostwriting position. I spoke with Shannon Summers.”
“Ah!” The man nods his head. “Come with me, I’ll take you to her office.” He leads down another hallway that stretched through a cafeteria. Gold, yellow, and blue dominates the walls and decor. There are only a few people taping on their MacBooks, sitting separate from each other. We go into a massive recording studio, entering a small hallway before he knocks on a yellow door.
“Shannon? Your new ghostwriter is here.”
“Come in!” She shouts. He opens the door for me and gestures for me to enter. “Thank you, Connor.”
“You’re welcome.” He leaves, closing the door behind me.
“How are you, Vehren?” Shannon stands up, giving me a handshake. “It’s good to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you, too.”
“Please take a seat. I need you to fill out some forms and sign a few documents. Nothing scary, just NDAs for the artists sake.”
“I understand.” I sit before her metallic desk.
Shannon searches through folders for stacks of papers. She sets them before me. “Just sign where the x’s are.” I read over the legal babble before I sign my name. As I flip the paper, she asks, “So, what music will you
be writing? You gave us a few samples, but is there a preference?”
“I’ll be writing self-empowering songs with a bit of a club theme. You know I’m a stripper, so all I hear all day is club music. It’d be nice to hear some more songs about being confident and where the confidence comes from.”
“Interesting. For men or women?”
I have to think for a second. “Women, preferably. I’m just better at writing in a female’s perspective.”
Shannon nods her head slowly. “So, are you like a transgirl or…” I look at her. “I’m not trying to be rude; I just want to understand.”
“I’m a boy, just a bit feminine.”
“I know you’re omega. You smell good. Are you gay?”
I nod my head. “Really, I’m bisexual. But yeah, mainly gay.”
“Sorry. You mentioned having a daughter. I’m just trying to figure you out.”
I smile. “It’s okay. I know I’m androgynous and hard to pinpoint. I like that about myself.”
“It’s unique.” She tilts head. “Your prose is really beautiful in your writing. It’s capturing. I enjoyed reading your poetry, and I cannot wait to put a voice to it.”
“One day, it’ll be my voice. Just not today.” I sign the last page and hand the stack back to her. She checks over each page as she slides the form to me.
“We’ll see. Can you fill this out. We’ll have to run a backgrou
nd check on you. Got any priors I should know about?”
“I did probation for a DUI, but that’s about it.” My fingers rub together.
“That’s nothing to worry about. We’re mainly looking for felons and how severe the crime was.”
“I’m no criminal.” I write my name, birthdate, and social security number.
“Good.” She watches me fill out the form. “I just have to say: you do smell good. Like lavender.”
“Is that your favorite?” I glance up to her.
Shannon twists the diamond on her left ring finger. “Maybe.”
I chuckle. “It is lavender. You got a good nose.”
“Or your cologne is strong.”
“I’m not wearing any cologne right now. That’s all me, baby.” I blink, realizing what I just said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you, ‘baby’.”
“It’s okay.” Shannon huffs a smile, rubbing her neck anxiously. “I am married, just so you know.”
“I figured.”
The door opens and a brown girl with long pink hair comes in. Her body is banging, breasts overflowing out her yellow tank. She struts in with a unicorn notebook in her hand. “Yo, Shannon! I’m back, girlie!”
Shannon grins, standing up to give the girl a hug. “Welcome back, Alivia! How is your baby?”
“Healthy and beautiful.” Alivia looks down at me with her drawn brow lifted. “Hey. What’s your name?”
“Vehren.”
“You a new singer?”
“Nah, a ghostwriter. Are you a singer?”
“I am. My name is Alivia Amos.” Her shoulder pops. “I haven’t been on the radio yet.”
“Not yet. Vehren is your new ghostwriter.” Shannon looks at the forms. “Just having him fill out some paperwork today.”
“No shit. You’re gonna be writing for me, huh? I like my music sultry and smooth. Can you do that?”
“I can do anything.” I smile.
She smiles back. “Awesome. Are we working today?”
“I have to go to my other job tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I dance at Milky Way Playhouse.”
“You do? I love that place. I’ve never been upstairs cause my peeps prefers women.”
“Do you prefer women?” I cock my brow.
“Nope. I’m all for dick.” Alivia laughs.
I finish signing my name on the last sheet and hand the forms to Shannon. “Is there anything else you need from me?”
“No, there isn’t. Thank you, Vehren.”
Alivia comes before me, subtly sniffing me. “So, what’s your name at the club?”
“Mars Aphoenix.” I stand up, trying to get a whiff of her scent. However, I can’t place her subgender.
“Alright. Imma look for you next time I go.”
“I’m always there Sundays, that’s when I perform.”
“Ooh, you got your own time slot. That means you’re good.”
“You’re right. I’m an OG.”
Alivia bobs her head. “Alright, cutie. I’ll catch you there.”
I huff, glancing at Shannon. “Need anything else from me?”
“Nope. Just come back Wednesday and we’ll start on some songs.”
“Dope. See ya later, girls.”
“Make me some hits, Vehren!” Alivia shouts as I leave out of the office.
♂
Downstairs is always more poppin’ than the men’s club. It’s larger too. I have to push through the crowd to get to the staircase. Girls shake their bare asses to The Weekend; guys count their money to toss on the stage. I don’t talk to many of the girls, except the few that pay attention to anyone other than money and themselves.
I see a redhead come from the stairwell rocking an all-pink bikini. Her breasts bounce when she struts. She sees me come by and stops me with her hand on my shoulder.
“You lookin’ good, boy.” Sevena Cande’s eyes are two different shades of brown, piercing, they stare right through me. There are three distinct moles spread across her face and a gap between her upper teeth. “How you doin’?”
“Could be better. You?”
“I’m flawless.” Her head lowers. “Sorry I didn’t see your show yesterday?”
“What happened?”
“I was with my daddy.”
I huff. “How much?”
“A grand. I had to do some daddy-daughter shit.”
“Anything for the bank.”
She smirks and tilts her head playfully. “He wants to see you again.”
“Me and you?”
“He a freak. Three grand each.”
I smile. “That’s a lot of bank.”
“BDSM.”
“Of course. When?”
“I’ll let him know you said ‘yes’.” She touches my shoulder again as she walks away. I go upstairs, smiling at two men coming down. When I enter the club, The Dante comes up to me in all silver everything including a mask.
“Somebody lookin’ for you.”
“Who?”
“Someone named ‘Fontaine Dah King’.”
My eyes widen and a cold rush runs down my body. “Font? Where is he?”
“Room Three upstairs. He already paid for a private show so go on up there.”
I look at the stairwell. “Been there long?”
“Nah, so hurry and get dressed.”
I take a deep breath and book it to the dressing room. Inside, I change into a two-piece, purple suit with straps going around my waist, sliding my feet into a pair of black pumps. I apply my makeup in the vanity in a hast. Once done, I quickly pace to the stairwell, taking a deep breath before going upstairs.
Neon blue lights illuminate the single hall. Posters of naked women cover the walls. We share the private floor, so women were walking with their patrons to a room. I enter the third room carefully, stepping my foot in first. There he sat, a muscular dark man with tattoos dripped down his arms and face. His hair is shaved, blonde, and has a black star on the left side. He has a mean look on his face and a grill in his mouth.
“What took you so long?” He says with a deep, hoarse voice.
“I just got here.” I come closer, waving my body with each step. “You paid for a private show?”
“I actually came here to talk first. Come sit.” I sit next to him on the leather couch. “On my lap.” I look at him and crawl to his lap. “That’s better.”
“What do you want?” I stare at him.
Fontaine smiles. “I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“You ain’t gon’ like it. But you gonna have to do it.”
“Why?”
“Cause I paid for that ass of yours, and I want a refund.”
I chuckle. “A refund?”
“Yeah, baby. That booty cost me nine grand. We not together no more, are we now?”
“You said it was a gift. Why should I pay you back?”
“Because I said so.” Seriousness falls down his face. “I need the money.”
“You got hoes. Have them to pimp for you.”
He grins, flashing his shiny, fake teeth. “That’s what you’re for.”
I look at him. “I don’t prostitute.”
“You don’t?”
“No.” I stare with intent. “I don’t.”
“That’s a shame. You got such a nice body. You’re good at sex.”
“What are you asking me? To be your whore?”
“I’m not really asking. It’s more of a need.”
“Why do you need me to be your whore?”
He plays with his jaw. “You owe me.”
“I don’t owe you shit.” I get off him. Fontaine grabs my arm and yanks me back on his lap. I gasp and grit my teeth. “This place has cameras.”
“You think I give a shit?”
“You think I’ll just say ‘yes’ because you gifted me my surgery?”
“You know I don’t fuck with money.”
I yank my arm away but remain on his lap. “Fuck you. You said you wouldn’t hold it against me. I would’ve never said yes.”
“But you did and look where we are. You’re in my debt, Vehren.”
“That was years ago. Why are you coming for me now?”
“Because I wanted you to have your fun. Now you’re a stripper, you make bank.”
“Not that much bank.”
“Shut the fuck up. I saw the amount of money being thrown at you on your birthday. You got your own fucking slot in this shit. I don’t want to hear you ain’t got money.”
“I also have a daughter to take care of.”
“Oh right. Little Eris. I forgot about her. She’s why you left me, right? How is she?”
“I left you because you put a gun to my head! I don’t fuck with abusive assholes like you.” I stand up again. “If that’s all you want…”
“I paid for a dance.”
Inhaling sharply, I stare deeply into his dark eyes. Blank, nothing is behind them. “That’s the thing, Font. I have power here. I can refuse your dance.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I can actually. You touched me, idiot.” I storm out of the room, skipping down the stairs, and beaming into the club. Through the crowd, I was able to spot The Dante over by Mourne.
He notices me and stops his conversation. “What’s wrong, Mars?”
I take a deep breath. “I’m not dancing for Font. He’s my ex-boyfriend who abused me and he’s being an ass.”
“The one who paid for your surgery?” The Dante frowns. “I didn’t know that was him. You should’ve told me.”
My eyes scan to the entrance where Fontaine enters the club. “I wanted to see what he wanted.”
“What did he want?”
“To prostitute me.”
“Ah, hell.” The Dante rolls his eyes. He picks up his transceiver from his belt strap. “Deonte, I need you to remove the blonde gentleman with a ridiculous black star on his head. He harassin’ my dancer.”
“Gotcha, brother.” Deonte responds through the box.
“No abusive niggas allowed in my club.” The Dante humphs.
“Thank you.” I look over to see Deonte come into the club. He taps Fontaine on the shoulder and escorts him out peacefully. Fontaine sees me, giving one glance before following the security.