The Secrets of Sin

Mari

Three years later

“Please welcome to the stage, our naughty angel herself, Sin!” The announcer calls my name and the entire club goes berserk.

The whole place bounces. The crowd jumps to their feet and swarms toward the stage.

When my song for the night starts to play, I make my entrance.

“Kelly won’t kiss my friend, Cassandra Jessica won’t play ball, Mandy won’t share her friend Miranda doesn’t anyone live at all.”

I strut to the stage, my white heels gliding over the metallic flooring. My burgundy red tank top dress clings to my every curve.

My white lace eye mask is my signature piece. The customers always know it’s me when they see it.

My black wig is securely fastened to my hair and my red lips match my dress. I know the crowd loves it.

“Amanda won’t leave me empty-handed. I got her number from a bathroom stall. Brandy just got way too much baggage and that shit just gets old.”

I take center stage, my hip cocked to the side as I run my eyes over their faces. I can see the hunger lurking in them. They all want me to thrill them. They know I won’t disappoint.

“But I got a girl who can put on a show,

“The dollar decides how far you can go.”

They all stare, ready for me to wow and amaze. I can feel their excitement.

“She wraps her hands around that pole…”

And the show begins.

As soon as my hands connect with the cold metal pole and I flip upside down, the crowd screams their approval.

My leg locks at the knee and I spin around until I get to the top of the pole. I grab on with my hands, letting my legs go free. I spread them open, so the onlookers can get a peek of my panties.

“She licks those lips and off we go; she takes it off nice and slow. ’Cos that’s porn star dancing!”

I drop down until my heels land gracefully and evenly while I keep one hand on the pole. I trace it with the tips of my fingers and tease the crowd.

Dollar bills are floating down like little green snowflakes that land all around me.

“She doesn’t play nice. She makes me beg.”

I jump and stretch to grab a hundred from a man’s eager hands and stuff it down my bra as I blow him a kiss. The man cheers and punches the air.

His buddies all go crazy and start throwing money on the stage.

Dropping down into a full split, I crawl onto my knees and give the crowd behind me a few seconds of twerking that has them yelling joyfully.

Those in front of me hold out hundreds, begging me to take them from them.

“She takes it off nice and slow, she drops her dress around her legs. I’m sitting right by the stage for her porn star dancing.”

After choosing the winner, I pop to my feet and slip my strap off, teasing as I kiss my shoulder, making the men beg for more. Money continues to fly from the heavens and onto my stage.

My next strap falls, and I let my arms break free. When the beat hits, I turn and bend at my waist—I peel the dress down and give them the view they want.

My white thong makes them go into an absolute frenzy. Money is falling like a green blizzard around me. Standing up and spinning to show them my front, they erupt with cheers, begging for more.

My lace bra keeps my breasts to my chest, making sure they won’t spring loose while giving them a nice push. I work the pole, spinning and giving them a good show.

I dance and pop my hips. I bend into a cowgirl position and make them go wild for me. I rock the space between my legs and pretend to get some kind of sexual enjoyment from it.

I fake a few moans and throw my head back as I gasp and grope my body.

When the song ends, I fall to my side and lie out like a starfish.

I raise my hips and arch my back for the crowd, giving them a good look at what I would be like for one of them in bed. Of course, I never actually give this, but it gets them all worked up.

Seconds later, Brittany, or as she’s known here, Foxxy, comes out to help me collect my money.

As we gather it all up, the men try to talk to us. We tease them even more. When they ask us to marry them, we bat our eyes and say, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

When they ask us out, we tell them, “Buy a dance, and we can talk about it.”

When they beg for a kiss, we tell them they can’t afford it.

When they beg us for more, we tell them, “Come back tomorrow and get a good seat. I’ll dance just for you.”

And we ask for their names. When we repeat them, their eyes sparkle, and their mouths drop. It’s like we’re goddesses among simple peasants.

The thrill and the electric tingles that flood me every time I hit the stage are amazing.

After three years, it still hasn’t faded.

Brittany helped me the entire way. She helped me create my persona and taught me to pole dance. She was there for every step and never got angry when I needed more practice.

When I made my first appearance, I was so overwhelmed by it, but Brittany came through for me.

I make an easy four grand a week, and that’s if I don’t have special events like personal shows and private parties. I’m always booked. I’m the only stripper who has a scheduling calendar.

The crowds have really liked my sinful angel act.

The girls I work with all take the privacy of our identities seriously, and no one is allowed to know our real names. None of the men are allowed to touch us, even during lap dances or private shows.

Starting in the club at seventeen, I worked my practices and shows around Erik’s work hours. Since then, I’ve paid for my college and paid off the debt on the house.

Brittany helped make it seem like my dad has been paying child support. Erik has no idea of the truth.

Now, I’m finally at the beginning of my second year in college, and with Erik more at ease, he has given me some room to breathe.

He has picked his life up somewhat, hanging out with Ben and Ross a lot more and enjoying himself more. It makes me so happy to see him smile again.

Lady Wynter walks into the dressing rooms. “Hey, Sin, your private party is here. The black room.”

I thank her and change quickly into my schoolgirl outfit. I swap my lipstick for a little nude pink to complete the ensemble and change my peep-toed stilettos for a clunky black heel.

“How many in the group tonight?” Brittany asks as she hurries in to change for her next show.

“Six, they are some big-time fighters from around here and it’s a birthday party. Bridie and Raven have been in already. Star is coming in with me. Do you wanna get dinner after?”

I’m already at the door, but Brittany yells after me that it’s a yes on food.

Star is waiting for me at the doors of the black room.

Out of all the girls I work with, Star is my least favorite because she never seems to want to be around me. It’s like she hated me the first moment she met me.

I’m always nice to her, but sometimes, I wish I could just ask her what her dang problem is.

On three, we open the doors together, making the boys whoop and holler.

I’m the main attraction at the club now. I’ve worked hard to earn my title and make as much as I do. We’re not a large town, but I still make a nice living, thanks to my large fan base.

I never pay attention to faces at big parties. It doesn’t matter as long as you make sure each customer gets a moment of special, undivided attention.

I start my lineup and work my way around the room like normal. The birthday boy gets the most attention, and Star doesn’t leave his side.

When he asks for me, I crawl to him.

My white blazer comes off, and I drape it on his lap. When I pop my buttons on my shirt and let my plaid tie lie on his shoulders, I grind into his pelvis.

I can feel his hard-on; it’s not a big deal anymore. I have made many of my fans cum on themselves from this specific move. They always seem to love it.

This guy is no exception. I think one of the reasons I have such a calling is because of how I interact with them.

Whenever I make them cum, I tell them, “Good boy, now you’ve been kissed by an angel,” which they eat up like starving men.

One of my favorite kinds of guests is always the first-timer, like when an older brother brings him in for his twenty-first birthday, and I get to give him his first dance.

Those ones always hold something special for me.

When our time runs out, Star leaves, and I stay back to gather my outfit. The guys seem to like watching me put on my clothes just as much as taking them off.

“You are my favorite by far,” one of the men says.

As always, I thank him and tell the group how they are my favorite party, which makes them laugh and smile.

When I go to leave, another of the guys follows me through the doors.

“Sin, I’m sorry about running after you like that. I wanted to ask if you do off-site appearances.”

Taking a good look at him, I notice he seems older than the rest of the group; early fifties, maybe. He still seems quite the ladies’ man, though.

“Do you mean just me? I’m not allowed to do private shows by myself. Lots of bad guys out there wanting to get their hands on an angel.” I smile sweetly.

That’s a big rule I learned. Always end a conversation with a smile, wink, or the blow of a kiss.

“This is my card. I am a manager of sorts, and one of my athletes needs a reputation boost.”

“Please consider it? Just walk with him to the ring, kiss his cheek for good luck, stay for the match, and cheer him on. I would pay you ten times what you make in a week.”

“You would pay me forty-k to do that?”

“What! You make four grand a week? Wow, you are good.” He runs a hand on his bald head, earning a laugh from me.

“Yes, sir, I am. Thank you for your card.” I twirl it between my fingers and turn to walk away, but the man stops me by stepping in front of me.

“I will pay you ten grand, one appearance. Friday night. Walk out to the ring with him, kiss him, cheer for him, and leave the ring together.

“He’s a nice kid, mannerly, a true gentleman. Think about it? Call me with an answer. Have yourself a goodnight, Sin.” He clasps his hands and walks away.

I walk to my dressing room and tuck the card away in my bag.

I can’t help but think of his offer while I change out of my work clothes and back into my regular ones: a pair of light wash blue jeans and a gray fuzzy sweater.

I change my clunky heels for a pair of gray sneakers, take my wig off and tie my long brown hair into a high ponytail, and clean the makeup off my face.

I have money; a nice chunk in my savings account. But ten grand is ten grand.

I put my stuff back in its proper place and leave with Brittany for a bite to eat.

***

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Brittany picks up on my serious thoughts at dinner.

“Have you ever done a private party off-site by yourself?” I can see the immediate hesitation resonate over her face. The obvious concerns are front and center.

“Way too dangerous, Mari. Anything could happen.”

She’s right, I know. Even with the safety concerns alone, it would be breaking the rules of our club. I could lose my job if word got out.

“Tonight, after the party, one of the guys gave me his card and told me he would pay me ten k for maybe two hours. He said he’s a manager for athletes.

“One of his fighters needs a ‘reputation boost’ and wants me to walk with him to the ring and cheer him on. So, like a boxing match. That’s not bad, right?”

I try to find more logic in it. I know it breaks the rules, but like most things in this life, there are ways to get around them. If it’s worth it, that is.

Brittany seems taken aback for a while as she thinks it over. She knows the same things I do. If we want to, we can get around The Bunny’s rules. But the question is, is it safe? No. Not really.

Is the risk worth it?

“You need more information. I still wouldn’t go by yourself. If he wants an answer soon, I’d call and ask when and where exactly, how long, who the fighter or whatever is, and take someone with you.

“Fridays are a big night at the club, but if it’s only an hour or two, then I’ll go with you.”

I nod in agreement, and we drop the subject for the rest of the meal. We fall back on our normal topics and forget the stress.

We always have a good time together. Brittany is like the sister I never had.

When we finish our meal and Brittany takes me back home, Erik has all the lights on. He isn’t supposed to be home yet, so I know something’s wrong.

I wave Brittany goodbye and hustle in, already coming up with a plausible story if and when he asks where I was.

I drop my bag on the couch and walk through the house to find him. When I hear some giggling and laughing on the back porch, I pause before going out.

Erik never brings girls home. Ever. When he took custody of me, his girlfriend, Dana, left him, and there has never been anyone else.

When I open the screen door and step out, Erik jumps to his feet so fast, he makes the sundeck table shake.

Ben and Ross laugh at him. Three pretty girls their age sit at each of their sides.

Clearly, I have interrupted a date night.

“Mari, where have you been?” Erik walks away from the girl at his side and steps toward me.

I look over at the group with an amused smile before falling back on Erik.

“I’m sorry I’m home later than normal. What are you doing here? I fell asleep and Brittany gave me a ride home. Have you had dinner? I stopped and got some on the way home.”

I act like I’m so exhausted and stretch my arms like I’m tense, all the while praying I’m hiding my fluster and panic.

“No, it’s okay. I, uh, already ate. Thank you, though. Go to bed.”

I nod and turning to go back inside, ignoring that he didn’t answer why he was home early.

“Have you guys eaten? Ben? Ross?” I hold out the plastic takeout bag and wave it up for someone to claim.

“I’ll take it. Here I come.” Ben drops his cards against the table. The dirty blonde at his side gives him a sad look before changing it to the stink eye when she looks at me.

“Good night, guys, female friends of my brother. Have a good night.” I wave bye and give a cheeky grin to Erik before stepping back into the house with Ben behind me.

We get to the kitchen and I get him a fork and pour him a glass of water before I sit down with him.

“How was your day?” I ask while I steal a fry and pop it in my mouth, making Ben growl at me like the bear he is.

Laughing him off, we have a nice talk.

Ben tells me about his day and how exhausted he is but how he got roped into being the third for this little date night and how his date is not meeting his standards.

I tell him about school and we talk about some of the books I’m reading and some of my classes.

When he finishes, I clean up after him and let him walk me to my room.

Turning the corner of the hallway, my foot hooks the carpeted rug and makes me fall forward. Right before I hit the ground, Ben instinctively grabs me and saves me from face-planting.

We both laugh at my clumsiness. I thank him for catching me and walk into my room. Ben lingers at the door, looking over my bedroom like it’s the first time he has ever seen it and not the millionth.

“Do you really not like your date that much?” I say playfully, teasing him for fun.

“Can’t I just want to spend time with my little kitten?” He raises a brow to challenge me.

“You could, but you don’t. I hardly see you anymore. If I do, it’s only for a few minutes and then you’re gone again. The next time I see you, it will probably be at my wedding or something.”

Ben’s pretty, sky-blue eyes drill into me like I said something evil. “Wedding? Are you hiding a boyfriend from us?”

His playful tone has come back, but I can tell he doesn’t like talking about the idea of marriage with me. Just like Erik, Ross, and Ben watch me like hawks on the dating front.

“No, but that’s the point. It will be so long until the next time I see you that I will have found my true love and be saying my vows.”

Ben lets out a harsh laugh before he covers it up with a warm one. Shaking his head back and forth, he runs a finger down his nose. “True love? I hope you never lose that sweet innocence.”

I have been told this my whole life, that I am innocent to a somewhat dangerous degree, but I don’t see the problem of seeing life at its best.

I know bad stuff is out there. I have experienced it.

I’ve never known my dad; my mother is dead; my brother lies to me to keep me in the dark; I don’t have any friends besides Brittany; and I have never dated.

The closest I have ever come to a relationship was my experience with Mr. Keats, which doesn’t count at all.

And let’s not forget, I’m the Angel of Sin.

“You don’t believe in true love?” I ask.

Ben watches me for a moment. I know he is trying to find the right words to tell me his opinion in the least harsh way. He tends to watch his filthy mouth around me, as he always has.

“No, I don’t think so.” He sucks in his bottom lip and bites down on it.

I smile sweetly and hug him. My arms don’t even reach his shoulder blades because of how stacked he is, not to even mention that Ben is six foot six.

My five-foot-two frame is like a child compared to this giant.

“I love you, Benny. I hope you find her and she is everything your high standards require. You deserve the very best.”

I look up at him from my hold on his chest. The smile on his face could melt the ice caps. He doesn’t show it off nearly enough.

“I love you too, kitten.” He leans down and kisses the crown of my head before I let go. He walks away, going to the door before he stops and looks back.

“You know you’ll see me more for the next little while. I’ll be picking up and dropping Erik off until his new motor gets put in.”

Ben shuts my door, not knowing I didn’t know Erik’s car needed more than a paint job. A new motor? That has to be a lot.

If I wasn’t going to take the job before, I will be now.

Ten grand will get him a new car.