My heart is pounding in my ears. I wonder if everyone around can feel how much I hate being here.
Either way, the disgust is settling in my stomach and I can hardly stand myself.
I sit at the vanity that is provided for us girls to share, makeup is thrown all over the table, clothes all over the room and the lockers right behind me. I hang my head in my hands. Focusing as much as I can on pushing my emotions away.
Let's get one thing clear right now. I hate this. Even hate doesn't seem like a strong enough word, but for how tired I am, it will have a do.
Had someone said a year ago, that this is where I would be, I would have laughed them away.
A year ago, I was just Avery Collins, 17 Year old high school senior. I was working on a soccer scholarship to Washington State, planning my eighteenth birthday party and everything was perfect.
Obviously I don't mean cookie cutter perfect. But my family had a comfortable lifestyle and my parents were loving and supportive.
Even when I went through my 'I want to be unicorn doctor when I grow up' phase. They supported me and told me if anyone could do it, I could.
But life has a way of destroying good things. It's almost as if life had a prejudice against things that could be considered perfect.
Or maybe just a prejudice against me.
When everything is going right, life forces me to take a left and ruins everything.
Like I said, I hate myself for what I do five nights a week, but after my parents died in a car accident, I had no choice.
Suddenly, I wasn't just a high school senior, I was solely responsible for my 4 year old brother Liam. So even though the job is slowly ripping my soul apart, I need the money.
I had to grow up.
I faced a battle though. So many people tried to tell me that I should have Liam adopted. That there were so many families waiting to love and he would be cherished. Not to mention, I could still see him if it was an open adoption.
No matter how much I currently disgust myself, adoption was never one of my considered choices.
Liam is the only family I have left and I wasn't going to be selfish, just because I am scarred.
He needs me to be strong, I need to be strong. I do what I have to do, for us.
Now I'm almost 19 and Liam is 5. Everyday is still a struggle for me, but Liam is happy and adjusted as well as can be expected.
If there is one positive about this job, it's the hours. I'm home to put Liam to sleep every night and there when he wakes up.
Lucky for me, my best friend Lindsey agreed to move in and babysit him at night.
I begin putting my makeup on. Only glancing in the mirror to do my eyeliner and make sure everything is good. I avoid looking myself in the eyes.
I shake out my dark blonde hair letting the natural waves flow down just past my shoulders. I grab the lotion from the table next to me and start rubbing the smooth glitter into a skin.
By far, I think my legs are my best feature. I don't mean that to sound cocky or anything, but I spent all my high school years playing soccer and my height of 5'6 helps, I think.
As much as I hate it, long, toned legs help me in this line of work. And the guys love to look at them.
I do one last check over my body. The thin blue bikini makes my 36c chest look a little bigger and the black stilettos only make my legs look that much longer.
Overall, this outfit leaves nothing to the imagination and I die a little more each time I have to wear a similar one.
It's not until the music begins that I push back all my pain and disgust and put on the mask I call 'Roxy'.
She is my alter ego, to help me get through this with some small amount of dignity. 'Roxy' isn't afraid to sway her hips and shake her ass in just the right way to make then drool; to make them tip.
It took me a while to build her confident mask. How else could a virgin like me be the seductress that Roxy needs to be?
I'd be lying if I said that the mask didn't fall every once in a while. Sometimes my nerves push through or the guy gets handsy during a lap dance.
But whenever it begins to Crack or fade, I just focus on why I am doing this and it gives me the strength to finish and tell them to look don't touch in a seductive way.
The announcer is calling 'Roxy' to the stage and the music begins.
The lights are low as she sways my hips to the beat, until we reach the pole in the middle of the stage.
I can see all the outline of the men in the audience, lust evident in their body language.
A small shudder runs through me. Have I already said that I hate this?
I remind myself right before I start why I am doing this before I give 'Roxy' full control.