Preview: Firsts and Lasts at Bitch Night

An early snippet of my draft in progress of the next "Dancers Who Undress." Briony is hanging out with Dara's friends for the first time, and admits how deep her interest in their profession might go. They're only too happy to have her as their personal exotic dancer for the night, in exchange for a whole lot of coaching and perhaps a side of gentle hazing.

***

“So, is she a new recruit?” Wicked asked.

“No,” said Dara.

“Well… I’m thinking about it,” I said.

Dara lifted one eyebrow in surprise, leaving the rest of her expression unreadable.

Everyone else raised both eyebrows, and quite a few of them drew their hands together into an excited clap.

“Aw, an itty bitty baby new dancer!” Lolly exclaimed.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling my skin heat up, not least from awareness that I was not an itty bitty anything.

“I mean, I’m sure I’m a long way off from qualifying,” I clarified. “But—”

“Bullshit,” Lillith interrupted.

“What is?” I asked warily, curling still further inward.

“That thing we all tell ourselves about how being good enough is in the future,” said Lillith. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you could use a crash course on the fundamentals, and you’ll only get better with practice, but if you’re serious about wanting it, you start in days, maybe weeks. Not years.”

I shook my head, rushing to correct whatever misconceptions might have prompted that assessment.

“Oh, no, I’ve had literally one dance class,” I said. “I’m nowhere near being on the level of anyone here.”

“No, you’re not,” Lillith agreed. “Because we’ve all been doing this for years. In a club.”

“The first time I touched a dance pole was my first day on the job,” Paisley piped up, raising one hand as if to insert her comment more smoothly into the conversation.

“I still barely use the pole,” said Sativa. “Makes me too dizzy. The customers like it just fine when I crawl up close and personal to the end of the stage and jiggle my ass against the floor.”

I did enjoy watching dancers do that.

“Okay…” I said, rocking back and forth to take this in. “But like… is there a checklist? There must be some kind of audition, or an interview? What am I supposed to know before I start?”

A bunch of voices burst excitedly to life at once, but Sky’s was loudest.

“Hold up,” she said. “I’ll get them.”

“Them?” I asked.

She retreated into her bedroom without explanation and returned in a matter of seconds with a pair of sparkly lace-up boots with heels at least seven inches tall, bolstered by platforms at the toes.

“See, that alone is going to take me years alone to master,” I said, hoping it sounded lighthearted.

“Have you tried, yet?” Sky asked.

I shook my head. “I mean, I wore kitten heels to a party, once. I had to carry them home.”

“Try these,” Sky pushed them insistently into my hands.

I took off my sneakers and slid my feet into the boots. Like all shoes I hadn’t bought specifically for myself, they were a little narrow for my feet, but with the laces loosened, they were surprisingly wearable.

“Go on!” Lolly clapped again, encouragingly.

I clambered to my feet, immediately stumbled, and had to swing my arms like a windmill to keep from falling. Dara wrapped her arms around my hips to steady me.

“Press your thighs together, weight on one foot.” Sky directed.

“The bevel position from class,” Dara clarified.

I could do that, though I wasn’t sure how giving myself a narrower base was supposed to make me more stable. I started to tip forward, and Dara tightened her grip.

“Soften your knees a little,” said Sky, sounding a lot like Dara’s unladylike dance instructor. “Tighten your abs, and pull your shoulders down and back.”

As ever, I clumsily juggled these directions, trying not to drop one whenever I added the next.

“You’re trying to pivot your torso back to an upright position,” Dara explained. “To compensate for the heels pushing you forward. Your knees are the fulcrum.”

It was a little easier to think about that way. I sank into almost a squat, until I could feel my shoulders settling over my hips, and then stretched myself back as tall as I could without unbalancing them again.

Dara cautiously eased her arms away, hovering them around me in case I faltered.

“How do you feel?” asked Lolly.

“Not like I can dance,” I said.

“Twenty seconds ago you didn’t feel like you could stand,” Lillith pointed out. “So cut yourself a break.”

“Walk to me,” said Wicked, beckoning with both hands. “One foot in front of the other, directly in front of the other, like you’re on a balance beam, not so high… that’s it,” she registered her approval as I fell into the rhythm with my third step or so.

Oddly, in spite of their appearance, the boots didn’t feel all that much higher than the three-inch kitten heels I’d tried before. The platform toes gave the illusion that my feet were at a much steeper incline than they really were. And if anything, the form-fitting laces actually made them more comfortable than my old party heels. Nothing seemed to be chafing anywhere when I moved.

I made my way across the room to touch Wicked’s outstretched arms.

“What’s next?” I asked.

“Practice, practice, practice,” said Sky. “Like, maybe for the rest of the night?”

She quirked an eyebrow at Dara, playful and cajoling.

“It’s been forever since I got to be a guest at a party with a stripper,” said Lillith, prompting a round of agreement sounds.

“It’d be great practice,” Paisley reasoned hopefully. “We won’t judge!”

Dara looked to me.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, babe,” she told me, with a conviction that I found spine-tinglingly sexy.

That tingle definitely helped me nod.

“I want to try,” I said. “It’ll be fun. And it’ll even us up a little. I’ve gotten to be a guest with almost everyone here.”

Paisley cheered, and multi-flavored smiles crept across every face, making me equal parts excited and wary.

“What should we call you?” Lolly asked.

I pretended to think about it for a moment. Really, I’d been thinking about it for much longer than a moment.

I turned the idea over and over on my tongue before saying out loud, “Do you think people would like… Bombshell?”