A Dance for Him (27 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I don’t know why the whole thing makes me feel so ill.

Well, of course it’s true that anything involving the creep has a tendency to make me feel ill.

But it isn’t just a matter of disgust with him, of disgust at what I’ll have to do at the club on Saturday night. (Dance for him personally? Ugh.)

It’s that I feel sick with fear and guilt.

Fear, not just of the creep, but of what Sebastian would think or do if he found out.

Guilt, because I promised him never to go back to the club again. Because I was supposed to tell him, if the creep ever tried to harass me.

But what can I do? He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I can’t destroy his career, just like that. He’s a brilliant professor, well-respected, clearly loves what he’s doing - surely he would resent me, or eventually grow to resent me, if I screwed that all up.

Why would he want to give up a promising academic career for a girlfriend of - well, we weren’t even using the word till just a week ago, and even if we started counting from the night he met me at the club, it’s hardly been six weeks?

What’s more, not just a girlfriend, but a girlfriend with a
past
, as absurd as it sounds in this day and age.

I know he’s acting like he wants something longer-term, but all it would take would be for someone like the creep to rat on me to someone in his circle, and I would suddenly be the scandalous working-class ex-stripper girlfriend who totally ruined his life.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s true that it’s not all that much the creep’s asking from me - not all that much in comparison to what Sebastian stands to lose, or what he’s done for me.

Surely I can do that for him!

It’s the lying that’s hard to bear, especially when he looks at me with those kind eyes full of concern. I just felt so ill after that encounter with the creep, too bad I wasn’t able to keep it in.

That was why I couldn’t bear to see him in person before Sunday.

I think he suspected something was off as well, but was trying to believe me, because he wanted to believe me.

How terrible it is to have to lie to someone who wants to believe one …

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

And so here I am, driving on that old route to the club that I never thought I’d have to drive again.

The creep seems determined to make the whole thing as mortifying for me as possible - though knowing what I know about him from both Brandi and Sebastian that probably shouldn’t have surprised me too much.

Last night an email came through from him, specifying what I was to do and when I was to do it.

Fair enough, I suppose, of course I needed the information if I was going to do this.

But then he had to demand that I wear the exact same outfit that I wore that last night I was at the club.

The outfit in which Sebastian saw me outside school for the first time.

The outfit in which I first danced for Sebastian.

I can’t imagine what Sebastian would think if he ever found out. I’ve been losing sleep over the fear that he’ll somehow find out about this and break up with me. If he was that jealous when I was talking to Lloyd - well, this is
that
much worse.

It’s like the creep has to spoil everything I have that is good and beautiful, to taint it, to make it vile. Over the last few days I’ve been intermittently asking myself
why
, and every time I come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t make any difference if I knew why he was such a creep to begin with, because he’d still be one …

Now that I’m in the parking lot, it all seems both terribly real and terribly unreal.

Real, because I’m actually here, because I can see the neon display announcing “The Royale - Gentlemen’s Club” with the silhouette of a naked woman on it, because I can smell the familiar whiff of grease from the neighboring diner.

Unreal, because there’s a part of me that can’t believe that I’m doing this, because there’s a part of me that thinks it would be best if I went in and did what I had to do without being too conscious of it. If I were on auto-pilot.

Because then maybe I’d be able to forget …

“College girl! Whatever are you doing here?”

It’s Ashley - well, in Brandi mode for the moment, I suppose - whom I first run into when I go in the back, after the manager greets me rather gruffly.

“You look really pale, are you okay?” Ashley continues.

A couple of other girls walk past - they’re new, so I don’t know them, so I wait till they’re out of earshot before replying.

“Oh, Ash- I mean Brandi, not really,” I say, keeping my voice as low as possible. “I’m in a very strange situation right now. It’s hard to explain right now … but tell me, is the creep here?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t arrive much earlier than you did, I’ve only just changed and put on my makeup. Want me to go check while you change?”

I nod. “Please. Please, that would really help me.”

“No problem,” she says, looking at me in a somewhat concerned manner before she walks over to the door and slinks out.

With trembling hands I take my outfit out of my bag and change into it. I’m just putting on my makeup when she returns.

My heart sinks when I see her face - I guess I was hoping against hope that the creep wouldn’t show up after all.

“He’s here?” I ask.

She nods. “What is he up to now? I’ve never seen you this freaked out.”

“He’s blackmailed me into coming back. Just this once, assuming he keeps his promise.”

“Whoa! He
blackmailed
you? About what?”

“About the fact that I’m sleeping with my professor.”

She looks confused for a moment.

“B-but I thought it was the other guy you hooked up with. The one you told me about. The guy you met here.”

“They’re one and the same guy,” I blurt out.

“Wait, so the hot guy who was with you in the VIP room -
he
was your professor? Your dreamboat professor?”

I turn red.

“Shh. Yes. Yes, I’ll explain it all over coffee sometime. Basically, the creep’s been threatening to go and tell the Dean. Who is his dad.”

She looks worried all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong, Ashley?”

“This is really weird. I don’t know for sure if it’s him, because I saw him just that one time, and never again since, but I think your guy might also be out there.”

What?

“Wait, he’s out there? Tall guy, cute, dark hair, dark eyes?”

“That combination isn’t exactly rare, kiddo,” she says wryly. “You have a picture of your guy?”

Ah yes, ever-practical Ashley.

“Yes,” I reply meekly, and scrabble through my bag for my phone.

Luckily there are like a billion pictures of him on the internet, which I know all too well from the days when I was fantasizing about him.

“Fuck, it does look like it is him. Does he know about this?”

“No! Of course not … He’d never let me do this otherwise. I’d promised him never to come back here. The creep said that if I told him, our deal would be off, and he would tell the Dean. Which mustn’t happen - he would lose his job, no question, and I can’t let that happen. I mean, yeah, it wouldn’t look great for me either, but it would be catastrophic for him, he’d almost certainly be fired. And he’s such a great teacher, so smart, so kind.”

“Any chance he’s just randomly here on his own?”

I shake my head.

“I can’t see that happening. He was here that night only because a good friend of his was having his bachelor party. I could be completely wrong but he’s given me no reason to believe that he’s into the strip club scene. I also think he may have gotten a bit suspicious when I blew him off for a date tonight, but I don’t know why he would figure out I was here. Unless -”

“Unless the creep tipped him off?”

Oh, fuck. I wonder what he told him. Obviously not the truth, or he’d probably have punched his lights out. Fuck.

“Hey, Tiffany, you going on? We can’t wait all night,” I hear the manager call out. “You’re supposed to be out there at 7:30, so I’m told?”

Fuck.

I look helplessly at Ashley.

“Go on,” she whispers. “I’ll go and talk to him somehow during your dance.”

“Thank you so much,” I mouth silently, as I make my way out.

My legs are so shaky as I get onto the stage that I’m grateful for the presence of the pole, so that I can steady myself a bit. It’s so glaringly bright on stage, so relatively dark in the audience area, that I realise to my annoyance I really should have asked Ashley which part of the room he was in.

But there’s no time to think.

I strike a pose, this time facing out to the audience, and start writhing against the pole, taking the opportunity to survey the room. It’s something I’d never done before, back when I was dancing - I never wanted to know who was in the crowd. Of course, today is quite different …