Chapter three

Catherine.

I strain my eyes and try to read my horrible handwriting in the dim light, hating myself for not writing well.

"You keep that up Catherine and you'll get blind before my hip bones stop working." I look up at Garcia who was already looking down at me and my pathetic organic chemistry note.

"Gar, I need to study, I'm having tests and exams and I have no idea what they've been teaching and my head feels blocked." My voices choked at the end I hate how weak I sound.

"Attempting to blind yourself in the dark isn't going to help, come on now, keep those books or get a day off." Garcia scolded but I can tell she is being caring.

She's a sex worker in the gentleman's club I work at because calling her a prostitute is rude, she is a thirty five years old and has a body to die for. She is an immigrant from Mexico and when she couldn't get a job because she didn't go to school, she settled for the job that had made her leave her birth country. I admire her strength.

Though she says the American men are better than the Mexicans, they treated the women like trash and she knew she would end up in a trash can somewhere had she stayed because of cartel wars, so her punishment is also her escape.

She has told me more than once that she hated selling her body but now she was used to it, that there was a small part of her that actually enjoyed it. She'd joked saying it was probably in her blood, her mother had been a prostitute and she didn't know who her father was.

I shake my head and look up at her with pleading eyes.

"Gar please, I really need to do this before it's Showtime, I know I'll be tired before I get home." She let out a sigh and I immediately know that I've won.

She switched on the flashlight of her new iPhone, courtesy of one of her numerous lovers. I thought she was searching for something but she kept it near me before waking out. I shout a thanks as she walked out but I'm not sure she heard, it doesn't matter because she knows I'm grateful.

The club had everything alright but they never really cared to put good lighting in the changing room.

I at least get through one page, not that I understood or could recall anything expect one fact, carbon is a hoe and needs four men to be satisfied. Greedy bitch.

My out of date phone vibrates in my jeans pocket, reminding me to get dressed. I look between my books and the outfit waiting for me on the hanger, I recline more to my books before I heard a bang and I jump up, frightened.

"Why the fuck are you not dressed?" As far as stereotypes go, my life definitely doesn't follow that path and that's why I have the nastiest boss.

You know how in most books the girl has two jobs, the female lead has the best boss at her hoe job and he helps her, yeah, it's not the same with me and that is why my boss, Damon son of a bitch Clark is staring down his nose at me like I'm some annoying kid he has to babysit.

Well I've got sass that's for sure and I hope he'll fire me so I can smirk smugly at my stupid stepmother but that doesn't seem to be happening.

"You waste my time, I'll increase your hours, now do yourself a favour and get your little ass in that outfit and get the fuck out before I lose my temper." He bangs the door on his way out and I let out a huff. This sucks.

I don't know why there's never 'I'll fire you' in his threats book, maybe because he knows I hate this job, or my stepmother must've told him. He also knows I can't afford to get more hours, my life is already hard as it is with school and all.

I quickly take off the jeans and T-shirt I went to school with and wear the oh so amazing outfit he had picked out today, note the sarcasm. I pull the strings over my arms and tie them behind, I do have to admit the bikini top does great job for my boobs, making them look bigger than they actually are. I'm not self conscious but my bra size is quite pathetic, 32B, Emerald had said on more than occasions that it's pretty normal to have that bra size, easy for her to say, hers is 34D, real nice.

I put the image of Emerald in bikinis at the back of my mind, if I did women I would most certainly do her, too bad, I like some man acti–

"If you're not out of this door in five seconds I'm dragging you out myself and I won't care if you're naked." Damon's rude voice interrupted my thoughts.

Yeah, he would be real happy to do that, perv. I hiss under my breath before quickly wearing the thigh high boots and zipping it up. I'm wearing shorts, like really short shorts but that's okay, since I'm not wearing G-strings like he'd suggested the first time I was supposed to start working.

So, stripper by night and failing chemistry student by day is what I am, I wouldn't pat myself in the back but I know I'm doing great. I knock on another dressing room door, that has good lighting by the way. The makeup artist, Tanya smiles at me. She's nice too but I wouldn't say we're friends, she's a great makeup artist and can change my features in thirty minutes, but also a very good gossip, and since she does almost everyone's makeup, she knows everybody's business. I make it a point to be very quiet around her.

She did her job done in less than thirty minutes and I curl my hair around the ends myself. I wave her goodbye and saunter out, feeling quite sexy. Don't get me wrong, I hate the job but I have to admit, I feel very confident in these clothes like yes I'm hot and I know it and I am not scared to flaunt it. Though I love myself in ripped jeans and oversized shirts more.

I spot Damon across the room and he gives me the stink eyes, I roll my eyes but don't stop by him. I reach my position behind the curtains and I take the ropes in my hand, patiently waiting for the music to start.

I'm not nervous unlike the first month I started. Devil bee aka my stepmother knew I'd taken ballet as a child so she told them I was very flexible and with a little training I would be a great dancer. I mean her input was unnecessary seeing how I would've managed perfectly at the bar.

I empty my mind and let the beats consume me, this is assuming I'm a willing stripper and I'm finding pleasure in this, I'm none and I feel nothing. The darkness in the club is much appreciated since I don't need to smile.

I've always wondered how Garcia managed, though she said she enjoys pleasing people. So I think back to when she didn't enjoy it, how does she make all those sounds and pretend she was into whatever was going on at the moment. I of course have never asked her any of these, I make it a point to mind my business and she's like the older sister I never had, I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings.

I feel confetti on my skin and almost scream along with the crowd. I'm done and I fight the urge to do a small victory dance mid air, it wouldn't be nice for me to land on my butt in the presence of about a Hundred egotistical stupidly rich men.

The curtains close back up and I go down slowly, I don't let go of it until I was sure my feet were planted on the ground.

Damon walks up to me with an expression I couldn't quite place, I knew he wasn't going to compliment me, no that wasn't his style and especially not with me.

"Your help is needed in a private room," My eyes widen and I step back.

"You have prostitutes for that Damon and I'm not one of them." I mentally clap at myself for not letting my voice shake.

"I didn't say you were sleeping with anyone, private lap dance for the rest of the night." He was about to turn when I dragged him back.

"You cannot do that, my shift is over." He looks down at me unimpressed before digging his hands in his pockets, he pulled out a key card and handed it to me then left without a word.

I fight the angry tears back, I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of making me cry, my test is by ten tomorrow and I still have to study, there's no way I can make it work now. I ignore the pang and stop by the dressing room and Tanya retouched my make up.

She must've noticed my off mood because she was quiet throughout, I'm very grateful for that.

I walk out then checked the room number and groaned, probably a pompous old pervert. They were the ones that booked the most expensive rooms in this place and because it offered more privacy, not taking risks because of the press. Mostly politicians or public figures that wouldn't want the world and their wives to know what they did to satisfy their dirty little desires.

I reach the door and stop, deep breaths first.

In and out, in and out, in and out.

Now that I can breathe without sounding like an overweight cow, I use the key card to unlock the door and still do more breathing exercises before stepping in.

It was pitch black which had me stepping back, what sick game was Damon playing with me? I don't run out like I should have, call me the dumb girl in every horror movie ever. I know how all the rooms in this place are built so I feel the wall for the light switch, knowing it was by the door.

"Don't." I jump at the deep voice, only then realizing I wasn't the only one in the room.