stage.”
***
Dressed in my turquoise mirrored bikini, I sit at my station and let Gemma straighten my mane. Earlier she told me the man she’s been seeing is coming in tonight to see her perform.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” I ask, acknowledging her unusual silence.
“Just a little,” she shrugs, flattening the last strand of my unruly waves.
“Don’t be, babe. You’re going to rock it, just like you always do,” I encourage.
“I’m not worried about performing, I’m going to blow Andrew’s mind with what I have in store for him,” she winks, setting my straightener onto the vanity.
“ Anything you care to share?” Gemma lets out a shaky breath, and I catch sight of a tear rolling down her cheek. Why did I ask? This is why I don’t have many girlfriends. They’re too damn emotional. Standing from my chair, I turn and give her an awkward one-arm hug. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Gem. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I’m pr egnant,” she mutters. Okay, that’s not what I was expecting to hear.
“How?” I ask, pulling her into Dean’s office for privacy. “Obviously, I know what causes pregnancy, but I don’t know how it happened. You’ve been going for your shot, right?” Dear, God, please let her say no. We all go to the same GYN for our Depo-Provera injections Dean pays for, and if her dose was ineffective, most likely ours are too. We are all screwed.
She bows her head and sobs. “Gem, answer me. Did you go for your injection?” I panic.
“No,” she croaks. Thank God, hallelujah! Maybe I’m being insensitive, but I have no desire to become a parent.
“Have you been to the doctor? If you’ve only taken a home pregnancy test, it’s possible the results could be a false positive. I’ve heard of that happening to several women,” I console. Sniffling, she swipes her tears away. “No, I haven’t seen anyone. However, I am doubtful all six tests are false positives.” Agreed. What do I say now? Showing affection isn’t my best asset. Actually, it isn’t a quality of mine at all.
“This Andrew, does he know?” She shakes her head. “Ah, I see. Is that why you’re nervous? You’re afraid to tell him?” I ask, taking a tissue and dabbing it beneath her lids to remove smeared mascara. She nods. “Okay. Here’s a solution for tonight. Forget the tests you took, and don’t tell him anything until you’ve seen a physician.”
Finally, she smiles. Then, she wraps her arms around my necks and kisses the side of my head. “Thanks, Piper. I feel ten times better just telling someone about the tests.”
“Anytime.” One of the new bouncers comes in and calls for me, saving me from Gemma’s oxygen depriving embrace. “Piper, Dean sent me for you. There seems to be some technical issues with the microphone and he can’t introduce anyone. You’re up next,” he alerts. Slipping into my platforms, I stand by the curtain and wait for Jasmine’s music to end.
When the beat fades away, and Jasmine comes backstage, I wait for the lights to dim and I walk out. This time, instead of lining myself with the pole, I climb up and get into position. I’m doing a trick none of the others ever do. It looks simple, but if you haven’t repeatedly practiced it, it is hell on your skin. Hugging the pole with the inside of my arm, I reach my hands behind me and grab my ankles. Arching my back, I pull my ankles toward my head. This part is easy, it’s the sliding down that sets the skin on the inside of my arm on fire. When the purple light shines on me, the members go wild. Maintaining my sexy pose, I gracefully glide down to the floor.
Placing one foot to the bottom of the pole, I grip the middle with my hands, and lift my other leg up and anchor myself to the steel using the top of my foot. Then, I remove my hands from the pole and go into a starfish pose by paralleling my body with the floor and extending my hands
***
Dressed in my turquoise mirrored bikini, I sit at my station and let Gemma straighten my mane. Earlier she told me the man she’s been seeing is coming in tonight to see her perform.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” I ask, acknowledging her unusual silence.
“Just a little,” she shrugs, flattening the last strand of my unruly waves.
“Don’t be, babe. You’re going to rock it, just like you always do,” I encourage.
“I’m not worried about performing, I’m going to blow Andrew’s mind with what I have in store for him,” she winks, setting my straightener onto the vanity.
“ Anything you care to share?” Gemma lets out a shaky breath, and I catch sight of a tear rolling down her cheek. Why did I ask? This is why I don’t have many girlfriends. They’re too damn emotional. Standing from my chair, I turn and give her an awkward one-arm hug. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Gem. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I’m pr egnant,” she mutters. Okay, that’s not what I was expecting to hear.
“How?” I ask, pulling her into Dean’s office for privacy. “Obviously, I know what causes pregnancy, but I don’t know how it happened. You’ve been going for your shot, right?” Dear, God, please let her say no. We all go to the same GYN for our Depo-Provera injections Dean pays for, and if her dose was ineffective, most likely ours are too. We are all screwed.
She bows her head and sobs. “Gem, answer me. Did you go for your injection?” I panic.
“No,” she croaks. Thank God, hallelujah! Maybe I’m being insensitive, but I have no desire to become a parent.
“Have you been to the doctor? If you’ve only taken a home pregnancy test, it’s possible the results could be a false positive. I’ve heard of that happening to several women,” I console. Sniffling, she swipes her tears away. “No, I haven’t seen anyone. However, I am doubtful all six tests are false positives.” Agreed. What do I say now? Showing affection isn’t my best asset. Actually, it isn’t a quality of mine at all.
“This Andrew, does he know?” She shakes her head. “Ah, I see. Is that why you’re nervous? You’re afraid to tell him?” I ask, taking a tissue and dabbing it beneath her lids to remove smeared mascara. She nods. “Okay. Here’s a solution for tonight. Forget the tests you took, and don’t tell him anything until you’ve seen a physician.”
Finally, she smiles. Then, she wraps her arms around my necks and kisses the side of my head. “Thanks, Piper. I feel ten times better just telling someone about the tests.”
“Anytime.” One of the new bouncers comes in and calls for me, saving me from Gemma’s oxygen depriving embrace. “Piper, Dean sent me for you. There seems to be some technical issues with the microphone and he can’t introduce anyone. You’re up next,” he alerts. Slipping into my platforms, I stand by the curtain and wait for Jasmine’s music to end.
When the beat fades away, and Jasmine comes backstage, I wait for the lights to dim and I walk out. This time, instead of lining myself with the pole, I climb up and get into position. I’m doing a trick none of the others ever do. It looks simple, but if you haven’t repeatedly practiced it, it is hell on your skin. Hugging the pole with the inside of my arm, I reach my hands behind me and grab my ankles. Arching my back, I pull my ankles toward my head. This part is easy, it’s the sliding down that sets the skin on the inside of my arm on fire. When the purple light shines on me, the members go wild. Maintaining my sexy pose, I gracefully glide down to the floor.
Placing one foot to the bottom of the pole, I grip the middle with my hands, and lift my other leg up and anchor myself to the steel using the top of my foot. Then, I remove my hands from the pole and go into a starfish pose by paralleling my body with the floor and extending my hands
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