Chapter One
May stood in the dressing room, staring at herself in the mirror. She looked different, but not different enough. The thick, black eyeliner around her eyes gave them the appearance of being almond shaped. The light-blue eye shadow drew attention to her brown irises shot with gold and the ebony mascara made her lashes look an inch long. Her black hair, which she usually kept up in a ponytail, hung loose down her back.
She eyed the strategically placed huge, blue feathers of her costume critically. She wanted to keep herself covered as much as possible before she pulled the two that would expose her breasts and the fact that she wore a G-string. She always checked her costume thoroughly before a show. She hated stripping, hated the fact that men stared at her too-large breasts and ogled her nearly naked body, but she hated seeing children homeless and hungry, even more.
“You’re up next, May,” the manager of the Purring Pussycat half snarled at her as he walked by, slapping her rear on his way past her. Marvin Henry wasn’t a nice man, but she wasn’t here because she wanted nice. She was here because he paid well, and that’s all there was to it.
Giving him a curt nod, she made her way to the door. May hated the fact that the jerk insisted on coming into the dressing room while they dressed. Had that been in her contract, she would have refused to sign. Still, she had signed and the little wrinkle of him demanding entrance while they got ready was something she could do little about at this late date.
She supposed they could all sue the little worm, but every one of them knew if they did, they would never strip again. The industry was as tight as the movie industry. One could, and did hire relatives before anyone else and blackballed anyone who didn’t fit. Strippers who sued just didn’t fit.
May moved to the stage entrance and watched as Laurette strutted her stuff. She’d started her set wearing a prim-looking librarian costume complete with the severe bun and pop bottle glasses. A hell of a lot more brave than May, she danced around the stage, twirling around the metal pole and shaking her stuff in front of the men. Soon, she was almost totally naked, save for the G-string, required by law to preserve her modesty and two tiny pasties in the shape of stars that barely covered her areolas. It was a good thing the city was looking out for her because Laurette didn’t seem to have a modest bone in her body.
May envied her, though. Laurette could sure dance one mean burlesque. She once told May she would dance out here butt naked, if not for the laws, if it paid to keep her in her apartment, not to mention fed and clothed. She had told May that herself. What she hadn’t told May was that she really was a Librarian during the day. May found that out, one stormy evening when she had used the library for their internet connection.
Moving closer to the stage, May tried to see who was out in the audience. The bright lights pointed down at the stage casting the rest of the bar in shadows. She knew they would. Still, she had to try. It was one thing to dance in front of strangers. Dancing in front of someone she knew was something else entirely. If she saw someone she knew, she’d hightail it back to the dressing room and borrow a wig from one of the other girls.
She squinted through the darkness even though she knew she couldn’t see much. Something in the pit of her stomach told her that all was not right, but she couldn’t figure out what.
The throbbing beat of the music changed as Laurette held her arms out and shook her shoulders, her breasts jiggling to the men’s applause. Bending down, the other woman collected the last of her tips via her strip of fake modesty, then left the stage.
Marvin gave May a shove between her shoulder blades and she practically stumbled out onto the stage. It was no wonder. Her FM heels were four-inch stilettos she could barely walk in. Her
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