Midnight Ballerina by Cori Williams

eyes landed on a couch in the corner, realizing there was someone sitting on it.
    “Um…hi?” It came out as more of a question because I was confused on what in the hell was going on. I didn’t recognize the man, but he was in a suit and had one leg crossed over the other, a drink propped up in his hand. Maybe he didn’t like being out with the other customers and I was supposed to keep the drinks coming? I didn’t really understand the whole reason for actually coming to a strip club then if you couldn’t even see the stage.
    “Ah, so Randy talked to you, I see. Did he explain the arrangement I proposed?”
    “Arrangement?” I repeated, cautiously taking a step forward when he waved his hand for me to come closer.
    “He didn’t explain it then.” He frowned deeply before taking a long sip of his drink. “That guy sure is peculiar, isn’t he?”
    I nodded my head in complete agreement. Peculiar indeed. I’d thought Randy was an okay guy when we first met, better than what I was expecting, but something seemed to be a little off. He appeared antsy about something, and then he went and shoved me in this room tonight without much of an explanation.
    “Well, let’s get to why you’re here. I’ve been watching you.”
    “O-kay.” I took a step backward and he chuckled. I had no idea what was funny about the situation and I was pretty sure I now had a stalker. I put my hand on the doorknob and twisted, but nothing happened. Panic set in as I realized Randy had locked me in the room. What the fuck was going on?
    “Calm down,” he said in what I think was supposed to be a soothing voice, but it just made me want to break the door down. “You can leave at any time; it’s just locked so no one interrupts us. Let me explain why you’re here first, though. Then if you want to leave, feel free.”
    I didn’t answer him, but instead pressed my back up against the door, willing for it to open.
    “I just want a little alone time, that’s all. A private showing, dance a little, maybe more. Either way, it doesn’t matter. When we’re finished, you go your way, I go mine, and then you get paid. Sounds fair, right?”
    My mind raced at the ‘maybe more’ part and I was about to throw up at what I thought this guy was suggesting. Basically, he was saying I could ‘maybe’ be a prostitute if things went further than a little dancing. Is that what these rooms were really set up for? Did Mr. Buchanan know things like that went on in the back of the club?
    “Nope…not happening. I’m not that type of girl and I have no idea why you or Randy would think that. He didn’t say a word to me. That is illegal! Don’t you have a wife or a girlfriend? A guy like you can find a girl—a nice, respectful girl that I’m sure you wouldn’t have to pay!”
    The guy’s eyebrows twisted together. “That’s not the point of this. It’s the thrill of it, darlin’. Can’t you feel that crackle in the air? The idea of getting caught if anything were to happen between us. We can even unlock the door, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
    “No, no, no, no,” I repeated forcibly. “Thanks for the um…offer, but I would really like to go now.”
    “Okay, that’s fine. But let me just tell you that you’re missing out. I have a feeling you could be a very dirty girl if you just let loose.”
    You have got to be kidding me . People actually said things like that? I turned around and pounded my fists on the door, hearing it unclick quickly, and rushed past Randy as soon as it was open, knocking him back into the wall.
    “You’re an asshole, Randy. Why would you think I would I do something like that? Do I seem like that type of girl? Money for sex? I. Am. Not. A. Whore!” I yelled the last part and he at least had the decency to look down at the floor.
    “Whoa, whoa back up a step there, Monroe.” He held his hands up defensively. “He was looking to have a good time with a nice girl like you. He wasn’t paying