The vip

The club dancers were categorized into two groups. We had the dancers who personally attended to the VIP clients. These dancers have built a rapport with specific clients over the years, so they were personally made available over request. And the other group was the one I belonged to. “The general stage dancers.”

We had just concluded for the night, and headed back to the dressing room when Naomi walked in. “Great job everyone. It seems the rehearsals are finally paying off. A round of applause for yourselves please!”

We all cheered excitedly, while some whistled. After the noise died down, she continued. “Here is your pay for the night.” She said walking around, handing us each a white envelope.

As I collected mine, I peeked inside a little and immediately my heart did a little tumble. At least this would be able to sort out some bills I had. “Okay so the VIP dancers who have been requested should wait behind, while the rest of you can go home. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Make sure you get some rest because I’m not gonna tolerate any slacks that might hinder y’all from making me money.” Naomi joked, and we all laughed.

As everyone gradually scattered, I went back to my dressing mirror and sat down. I was about to take my make-up off when a waitress came in hurriedly. “Nick! A customer in Vip room seven requested for you.”

I turned to look at her, wanting to be sure I heard her correctly. “I’m sorry? Me? No. I think you’ve got the wrong person.” I said laughing lightly.

“No I’m not. He specifically say the dancer wearing a pink mask—

“But I’m not the only one wearing a pink mask, Camille.” I interrupted smoothly. “As a matter of fact, we all are. So how can you be—”

“He also mentioned the dancer who has a butterfly tattoo on his collarbone, and you’re the only one with that. So I’m not mistaken. It’s you he wants.”

Just then everyone’s eyes were on me. Some started whispering. “How can a VIP request for him when he’s still a newbie?” “I told you he was brought in here by Naomi, hence the preferential treatment.” Another said.

I kept my gaze fixed on the mirror, pretending not to hear, but inside my stomach twisted into knots. I wasn’t here due to favoritism or shortcuts. I was here because life had backed me into a corner, and dancing paid better than any side job ever could. Before I could process anything, Naomi walked in. Immediately the whispers died down.

“What’s going on Camille? Why are you here?” She asked curiously.

“A VIP specifically requested for Nick.” She answered smoothly.

Naomi’s brows furrowed curiously. “A vip? That’s not possible. Did you tell him Nick was a newbie? And newbies don’t accept personal requests?” Naomi asked.

Camille nodded. “Yes ma’am I did. But he still insisted. He said he would pay x5 of what we usually charge. Or better still, he will pay any amount you want him too. As long as he gets Nick. He doesn’t want anyone else.” Camille explained, as we all listened with rapt attention and I could feel the burning stares from the other guys.

“Thank you Camille. You can go.” Naomi spoke. As soon as she left, her eyes landed on everyone in the room. “The only person I want remaining in this room is Nick. If you ain’t Nick, leave the dressing room immediately.”

Just then everyone hurriedly rushed out, while I just sat down, trying to piece together what was happening. When it was just us, she walked up to me. “Nick, I'm going to go talk to him. You can’t do this. You ain’t ready.”

Before I could protest, she walked out. Sitting alone in the room, my thoughts raced. I was excited about this, because I knew personal requests from VIP clients meant more pay, but at the same time, I was nervous. What if I screw it up? Or better still embarrass myself? I couldn’t risk that happening because my life depended on this job. One wrong move, and I’d be done for.

Immediately my phone buzzed. It was a text from Leo. “Hey Nick. When are you coming back home? I made us dinner and it’s getting cold.”

I smiled as I replied. “I just rounded up now from work. I’ll be home soon.” I hit the send button and threw my phone on the table. I decided to touch up on my make up, as a part of me knew the client might not bulge even after Naomi’s intervention. The fact that he had a perfect description of my tattoo meant he was paying more attention to me than the rest. So if he specifically requested for me, that meant she had to give in. No matter what.

A few minutes later, Naomi walked in. The look on her face said I was right. “Damn! I don’t know what it is you did up there on stage, but you’ve got him hooked. Honestly.” Naomi said in between laughs as she grabbed a seat and sat down beside me.

“Well, Isn’t that what you want? More money for you?” I teased, applying my gloss while I glanced at her briefly.

She rolled her eyes at me, before leaning back in the chair. “Well yeah I do. But not like this. You’re still not ready and I wouldn’t want you to—”

“Naomi, I totally understand your concerns, but this is business.” I interrupted grabbing her hand. “And we don’t let our emotions get the best of us. You taught me that. I know you’re worried seeing as this is my first time, but I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. You’ve taught me everything I need to know. Including the do’s and don’t’s. So I’m good to go.” I reassured, squeezing her hand gently.

She stared at me for a while, before exhaling. “Okay. Fine. I trust you. Now get going. You don’t want to keep your first big client waiting.” She urged.

I smiled, then picked up my mask, applied my almost finished cologne, then headed out to the VIP section, my pulse quickening with every step. I have never entered any of the VIP rooms before now, so this felt surreal. I opened the door and stepped in. The room was dimly lit with deep crimson lights. I noticed the figure sitting by the corner. Although I couldn’t exactly figure out his face, I decided to just carry on with what I came there for.

I walked towards him slowly, and started dancing. I ran my hands along his shoulders, up his chest then down his thighs. All while still maintaining professionalism. He didn’t say anything. He barely spoke, he didn’t flirt. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t smile. He just had his eyes pinned on me, assessing and devouring as he drank from the glass in his hands.

It felt weird at first, because most men who come into the club never hesitated to run their hands all over your body, some would even go as far as paying triple the amount, as long as you were open to some things, but this man, this mystery man was the complete opposite. His stillness unnerved me more than any grabby hands ever had. I could feel the weight of his gaze tracing the lines of my body. The air between us thickened, charged with something I couldn’t name; curiosity, maybe danger.

Just then I moved to take the glass from him, and that’s when he said something that made me stop in my tracks. “You’re in college right? What’s your major?”