Daybreak

‘I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future. I am the new way to go. I am the way of the future.’

Balefully cracking an eye open, the woman looked around her room, startled at the sudden blast of music that woke her from sound slumber. She threw the covers from her body, groaning as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hands came up to scrub the sleep from her eyes, slapping at her cheeks to wake up a bit. It was still dark outside, and her eyes stole to the blue light emanating from her stereo—1 in the god damned morning. She hadn’t been asleep more than an hour and a half.

‘There’s a lot of innocent people being crucified.’

The song’s lyrics forced a little laugh from her and she couldn’t help finding some energy from the fast beat dance music. My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult never failed to fully rouse her on these nights. And she definitely needed the energy boost.

‘AF-TER THE FLESH!’

Rising from the bed, she danced around the small room, tossing the waist-length locks of her hair in wild abandon. Another laugh tore from her throat as she danced all the weariness from her system. Her heart was pounding with excitement and anticipation. It was going to be a great night.

Someone pounded on her door, startling her from her dance. Eyes widening, she snatched the remote for her stereo, pressing pause as she padded out into the living room and over to the door. Another insistent knock shook through the flimsy barrier, making her flinch a bit.

“Chill out,” she called, brows furrowing in irritation. “I’m coming.” She jerked the door open and was surprised to see her neighbor glaring at her from the dimly lit hallway.

His eyes coldly raked her scantily clad form, taking in the black sports bra, the tiny spandex jogging shorts. It was almost like he couldn’t help himself.

It made her skin crawl to be ogled by the creep. Even after two years she couldn’t make herself get used to it. It probably didn’t help that she couldn’t stand men. Her lip came up in a disgusted sneer and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Something I can help you with?” she wondered, raising a gently arched eyebrow in disdain.

That seemed to snap him from his entranced stare. He brought his gaze up to lock with her bored green eyes. Scowling he said, “Keep your music down, Nilo. I don’t want to hear that shit when I’m trying to sleep.”

She smiled and shook her head, crossing her arms as she leaned over against the doorframe. “You and I both know you weren’t sleeping, so cut the act. Go back to your pedo porn. I, unlike you, have a job.” She looked at the clock again—1:08. “And I’m going to be late.”

Without further ado, she slammed the door in his face, flipping the light on as she went to dig through her closet for some clothes. She pulled out a metallic blue mini skirt and matching banded tri top, completing the ensemble with her black studded belt and a pair of black patent leather Chacha style Go-Go boots.

It was a hassle to get the boots laced up so they felt comfortable, but she took her time and made sure the job was done right. It was going to be a long night of dancing if she didn’t have her boots tied correctly. Once finished, she stood and walked around a bit, satisfied with the fit.

She’d only been a Go-Go dancer for about a year, but she’d learned quickly that all of her clothing had better be comfortable and permeable. Dancing in a cage under hot fluorescent lights at a full club made her sweat abominably. The first few weeks her feet had been nothing but blisters and aches, but she’d adjusted well to her job over time, and now was firmly in love with it.

Hurrying into the bathroom, she took a look at herself in the mirror, judging what she should do with her hair. The black ringlets were rather limp from being slept on while wet, but she could easily fix them into something resembling cute. She opened up a drawer, removing a card full of bobby pins. Piling the waist-length mass on top of her head, she started sticking pins through it to hold it in place, artfully arranging curls here and there.

Once it was firmly in place, she ran back to her bedroom to snatch her purse and keys from the night stand. A glance at the clock said it was 1:24. She had exactly six minutes to get her ass to the bus stop, and it was going to be a long run in five and a half inch heels. Grabbing her trench coat from the rack as she hurried out the door, she swung it over her shoulders and locked the apartment. She ran as quickly as she could in the heels, down two flights of stairs, out of the apartment building, up two blocks. She arrived just as the bus was pulling to a stop.

Sucking in great breaths, she pulled out her bus pass, swiping it under the reader before taking a seat near the back. That had been a little too close for comfort. She couldn’t afford to be late, or she’d lose her job. For all the shit she had to deal with—getting up at all hours of the night, dancing until she could barely move, getting groped by drunken guys—she wouldn’t give it up for the world. Besides, Nilo had a vested interest in sticking around.

The bus pulled to a stop at Commerce Street, and Nilo exited onto the pavement, walking a few blocks to Sir Cedrick’s Gentleman’s Club. The tacky neon sign was flashing brightly in the darkness, and a line of men were milling in front of the entrance, smoking at their ease. A few of them—regulars—recognized her and tried to entice her over, but she knew better than to fraternize with the customers.

“Sorry, guys,” she shrugged with a small laugh, continuing up to the entrance of the club.

Geoffrey, the bouncer, smiled softly at her and lifted the velvet cordon without question to let her through. “Did you wear that hot little purple get-up?” he asked when she sashayed past him to the front door.

“You’ll have to come find out,” she told him, laughing a bit as she teased at the folds of the trench coat. She stopped short of opening it, though, and entered the club.

Geoff was always good to her, making sure she made it to the bus okay after work, and keeping all of the perverts from mauling her when she danced. He was one of the few people that respected the fact that she wasn’t into men, but that was largely due to the fact that he was gay. They understood each other well.

As soon as she entered the club, it was to see a heavy crowd. All of the suits lined the wall booths, discussing business at their leisure. She never could understand why they came to these damn clubs for serious matters. Go-Go dancing was supposed to be about having a good time. It rode that fine line between raunchy and sexy, not quite stripping, but not innocent in the least. Something about it attracted a decent clientele from all walks of life.

The more casual young men lined the stage and occupied the tables beneath the glass cages, getting an aerial view of the dancers and their…attributes. These men were typically so drunk by this time that they were rowdy and hard to control. While they made for an easy scam for the waitresses, it also made it hard for the dancers to do their jobs without getting mauled.

A hand slid around her waist and she was pulled back against a man’s chest. “Mmm…fancy a fuck?”

Looking up, she saw the manager of the club, Des. He had his jet black hair slicked back from his face. It created a striking contrast with his piercing green eyes and deeply tanned skin. He’d worn a nice suit that evening, his tie impeccably in place for once. Whatever class he managed to convey through his appearance was inevitably ruined the minute he opened his mouth, though. The man was a walking hard-on and couldn’t help teasing the girls.

Nilo raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head. “You perv,” she commented with a grin, shaking off his hands. “You want me in a cage or on stage tonight?”

He pointed to one of the cages above a table of what appeared to be college boys. They were dressed a lot nicer than the group crowding the stage, but nowhere near as nicely as the suits. She’d probably get stiffed on a tip tonight from the looks of things. Rich boys always felt like they were owed the dance; it wasn’t a service in their eyes.

Seeing the look on her face, Des shrugged a shoulder, offering, “I’ll put you on stage tomorrow, but I gotta have someone in that cage. That’s the owner’s kid and his friends. They flew in for spring break, and I gotta make sure they have a good time. You’re a lot better than Sug, ya know?”

She knew his hands were tied and didn’t hold it against him. “I know,” she replied on a sigh, “but I still don’t like it.”

Waving a dismissive hand, she headed into the back room and put her things into a locker. She spared a quick glance in the mirror before heading up to the second floor. When she made it to the pole for cage two, she hit the panel that would send the glass cubicle up to her. The hydraulics slowly lifted it up, and she stepped inside, hitting the button to send it back down. She hated the system here; she would be stuck in the damn thing until someone decided to bring her back up. Short of climbing the pole that ran through the middle of it, or stepping out onto the customer’s table, there was no other way out.

The cage rode back down the pole, coming to a stop about four feet above the table. It was greeted with catcalls and a chant to ‘take it off’. She ignored them and started dancing to the fast music. It was exhilarating, even knowing she wouldn’t have a great tip waiting on her when she finished for the night. The idea of being a sex symbol was exciting in a forbidden sort of way, something that was only silently acknowledged.

She had no patience for the guys that were staring up at her, devouring her every move, fantasizing about fucking her. They were only a distant thought in the midst of her job. The real reason she came back every night was simple and wrapped in a package with fiery red hair.

Even as Nilo thought about her, Alayna emerged from behind the bar with a tray of cocktails. The girl was dressed in the less revealing cocktail waitress uniform—white choker with a black bowtie, black leotard and black suit jacket, pinstripe pantyhose, and black three-inch ankle-strap pumps. Her wavy hair was pulled back in a high, messy bun with a few loose curls left down to charmingly frame her face.

The girl stopped at a table of suits, smiling as she delivered the drinks. They gave her a generous tip, obviously flirting, but Alayna seemed not to notice, immediately moving away from their table. As she walked by, her eyes flicked up to Nilo, a secret smile in the gray depths. Time seemed to slow down for the few seconds that they stared at each other, but she winked, and just like that Nilo knew she wouldn’t be going home alone at the end of her shift.

Laughing gaily within the confines of the cubicle, she threw more effort into her dancing, her blood on fire with the promise daybreak held dangled just before her.