Leigh slithers down the fireman's pole wearing a pair of white lace thong panties, skimpy see-through brassieres and large angel wings. Her audience, mostly well-dressed men, and the occasional older women, for a moment stare in awe of her body's agility. She sees Dorian, the club's manager, sitting at his usual table with a new customer. She smiles at them; she knows it would be more money for her. She tries to think what she would do to this man when the sight of Henry tending the bar catches her.
Ah, dear old Henry. She tries to remember how tender he used to touch her, like she was a delicate crystal. Henry wanted her to quit her job and marry him. He said he'd give her everything she wanted. She wanted to believe him, but she was not a fool.
She is "damaged goods". No man in his right mind would marry someone like her. She who had been with hundreds, perhaps thousands of men. All for money. Only money can make her happy, that's what she has conditioned herself to believe. And Dorian brings her the men who would give her money, spend their money on her - jewellery, cars, vacations to places like Bali, Fiji, the Azores, the Riviera. What more can a woman as beautiful as her want?
As she moves her hips and surveys the hungry looks in the eyes of her audience, she suddenly remembers the day she told Henry that she was pregnant. He looked happy, but she was in a panic. She cannot be pregnant. Her body is her fortune. The money would stop. Dorian told her so. When she went to that secret clinic out of town, she knew she didn't only lose the child, but also her soul. Life is a great big jungle and she is so lost in it.
Friday July 21st, 2017
1 hour ago