I’d always dreamed of being.
The music kicked off, and so did I. I whirled around, my eyes covered in a pink lace mask and—hopefully—making me unrecognizable. I was wearing my signature kitten mask, made of pink sequins on that day. I made my way to the front of the catwalk and began to move.
I always structured my dancing around my outfit. Today, I was the innocent kitten in pink—mimicking licking my paws, crawling on all fours, dancing as if I were playing with a toy. They went wild before I even took my clothes off. Bills were tucked into my bra, into my panties. Smaller bills covered the catwalk. I usually left those for the younger girls. Some of them were in even worse situations than I was.
The time came for me to take my bra off, and I hesitated, shyly regarding the men before me before unclasping it in the front. Roars and demands for me to take it off followed, and through it all, my gaze searched the crowd to find someone to focus on.
Sometimes I got lucky, finding a handsome man in the crowd who looked kinder than the rest of the patrons. Sometimes I picked Charles, a regular who was seventy years old and had lost his wife a decade ago. Since then, he’d been to Le Cabaret every night, spending most of his pension to watch women fifty years his junior dancing on the stage.
But Charles was nowhere to be found that night.
Instead, my eyes settled on a figure in the back, shaded by the lack of lights in the VIP booth. He was wearing a clean-cut, expensive suit, with a black shirt, and a black tie. His face was in the shadows, and I squinted through my mask, trying to get a better look. There was a woman there too, which surprised me. Even from my position, I could read her body language. She was pissed he’d brought her there.
“Bra off! Bra off! Bra off!” the patrons chanted, quickly transporting me from my daydream to reality. I smiled seductively, removing my bra and dangling it from my fingertips, while my other hand timidly hovered over my breasts, hiding my bruised nipples. I’d tried to correct the damage Skull had done with loose powder, but I had a feeling the purple would still show through.
The crowd let out a collective gasp as my bra fluttered to the catwalk, and I pulled my hand back. My breasts bounced free, but I wasn’t done teasing them yet—pink sequin hearts with tassels covered my nipples, making them laugh and want more. More money came, and I hated myself for wasting such a money-maker dance tonight, when Skull would steal all my earnings.
As I danced, I couldn’t take my eyes off the stranger in the VIP booth. Still unable to see his face, I decided to dance for him, as if it were only the two of us in Le Cabaret. I twirled, my hands gliding down my curves, my eyes permanently locked on the stranger’s shadowed face.
I removed my thong next, and this time, there was no room to be shy. My pussy was exposed, shaved save for a little line of dark hair leading down to my center. I touched myself, innocent strokes of my fingers as the men cheered me on. When I rubbed my pussy, my fingers came away wet. The fantasy of the mysterious man in the VIP area had turned me on.
Soon, my dance came to end, and I made my way off the stage to the sound of the patrons demanding more. I wouldn’t want to be the girl going on after me. They all wanted more Kitty.
In the backroom, I quickly changed out of my clothes and removed my makeup. Evangeline and Rosabella were both gone, and they were my best friends in the joint. I did get along with some of the other girls, but we weren’t exactly close.
I was ready to leave in twenty minutes, grabbing my things and heading out through the back exit, doing my best to avoid the bouncers. I hadn’t seen Skull since I came in, which was a good thing. The day’s earnings felt like a heavy burden in my bag, which I held onto for dear life, my fingers frozen from the chilly London night.
“What’s the rush, darlin’?”
Fuck. I turned around in the street, which was deserted. This wasn’t the best part of town during the day, let alone in the nighttime when