Set Loose by Isabel Morin Page A

bookkeeper, a vendor trying to work out a deal with Steve – but she had the stage to herself and no one bothered her while she practiced her pole work or worked out the choreography for her routines.
    First she went through an abbreviated version of what she’d have done in company class if she were still there, taking care not to do anything that would tax her injured foot. When she was properly warmed up she went through all four dances she’d be doing that night, refining her moves as she went.
    It was her version of a dress rehearsal, complete with the tunes she’d chosen playing softly on the sound system. Maybe it was overkill, but if she was going to dance naked in front of hundreds of people, then she was damn well going to be prepared. She wasn’t going to take anything for granted, even if all anyone cared about was seeing her naked. Unlike a ballet audience, the customers at the club were right there, their faces visible. As intimidating as that was, it was kind of cool, too. Dance could bring tears to a person’s eyes or it could make a man hard. Either way she was reaching them.
    Since she had no friends and no life outside of the club she spent all her free time working on her performances, as well as on a dance she was tentatively beginning to choreograph. It was an idea she’d had before her injury, only then she’d had no time, nor any reason, to pursue it.
    Maybe she was trying to replicate the structure of her days with the company – warm-up and class in the morning, rehearsals in the afternoons. Then again, it was all she knew, and at least it gave her days some focus, two things she’d been sorely lacking of late. It was a fragile lifeline, and one she held onto, as she was by no means reconciled to her new situation. She’d once been part of something bigger than herself. Now she felt like she’d been excommunicated and thrown out into the cold.
    After a couple hours she headed back to her room to change and shower and call a couple of friends who’d left messages. All of her friends were ballet dancers, and she’d had enough pity from them already, so she told them she was hanging in Vegas with a friend from high school and sightseeing for a week or two. More lies, but there was no way was she telling anyone she was stripping. It would sound even worse than it was and she’d end up some kind of cautionary tale for dancers with weak ankles.
    Relieved to hang up after the last call, she settled down to work on some costumes with the TV on for company. Just before six she headed back to the club, relieved that Cutter didn’t work Wednesdays. It would spare them both the awkwardness, at least for the night.
    Her shift went by without anything out of the ordinary happening, but as the night wore on she grew more and more nervous. What if Jim was lurking somewhere between the club and the hotel? Or what if he somehow managed to get into the hotel and attack her again?
    She was probably just being paranoid. The streets were always full of people when she got off her shift, and it was a short walk back to the hotel. She needed to suck it up or she’d be scared every night.
    But logic only went so far. She dawdled in the dressing room talking to some of the dancers, and took her time in the shower, washing her hair and shaving her legs. Then, still not quite ready to leave, she sorted and organized the clothes and props in her locker. When she could think of nothing else to do, she finally threw everything in her bag, took a deep breath and headed out onto the floor.
    She was almost at the door when she heard someone calling her name and Richie came up beside her.
    “Hang on, I’ll walk you home.”
    She stared at him, thrilled at the offer but totally taken by surprise. By now everyone had heard about Jim attacking her last night, but even so she and Richie didn’t do much more than say hi to one another.
    “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out or anything.”
    “It’s no problem.