What The Heart Desires (3 page)

“The good news is that we’re living together and we can split everything, and the bad news is they are laying off everyone in banking even tellers. Especially tellers.”

“All of this sounds like bad news to me.” We turn and walk in the direction of a coffee shop we had wanted to try but didn’t have time. We sit down at the nearest table and order a bagel and cream cheese, Tamika orders a croissant with butter, and two cups of strong coffee.

When the coffee comes, we down it like it’s a drink of liquor, and we hold on to the ceramic cup like it’s life itself. We exhale at the same time.

“The good news is that we are young and beautiful and have great bodies and we can...” Tamika paused as if what she had to say would sound better if she said it fast. “We can get jobs as strippers.”

“A what? I coughed almost choking on my bagel. “Did I hear you right? Did you say a stripper?”

“Think about it, Leila. A friend of mine works in this club as a waitress, and she says that they need two strippers. How convenient is that?”

“I don’t know. Do we need the money that bad?” I ask.

“Do you have any money saved?”

“No,” I say to her, and she asks me another important question.

“We just got paid and how much money do you have from that?”

“I was paying Troy half on the rent and his rent is steep.”

“You were doing what? You are fucking that piece of scum every night, and he’s a man that likes to fuck even if you tell him you don’t feel like it. He has to have his morning and night fucks. I know because he looks like the type. I’ve had guys like him, and that’s why they’re always smelling some woman’s pussy.”

I look around the crowded coffee shop to see if someone heard Tamika because her voice is traveling and I’m embarrassed because all of it is true.

“It’s time to go and see if we can get a job to pay the bills. I didn’t go to college six years to swing my ass around a pole for a living,” I say reaching into my purse searching for money, but my hand lands on a business card. I glance at it and frown.

“His name is Evan Hunter,” I murmur walking to the counter to pay for an expensive continental breakfast.

“Look at it this way Leila, until we get a real job, we have to make some money. It’s called survival. Not unless you want to ask Troy for some of the money you turned over to him? Knowing him, he used it in those clubs to pay his cocktail waitress. This is a man who put the cock in cocktail waitress.” Tamika starts to laugh.

“That’s not funny,” I say and walk out of the deli ahead of her, and she catches up with me.

“I’m sorry, but you never wanted to believe about him. Knowing Troy, he has moved on and he’s trying to take another unsuspecting young woman for a ride. I hope you don’t fall for anymore of his bullshit.”

I closed my eyes because I knew what she had said was true. Tamika talked all the way to the nearest subway and we got on the subway train and took a bus around Manhattan, and stopped at all the large banks, and companies with banks, we thought would hire us.

We got the same news from each one: “We have enough personnel and we hire internally because we are cutting jobs in all departments, especially tellers.”

W
e got back to Brooklyn that evening, tired and hungry. Stopping at the local Chinese restaurant, we picked up our dinner, sweet and sour chicken, beef and broccoli, wonton soup and four vegetable egg rolls. We were hungry and exhausted. Entering Tamika’s apartment, kicking off our shoes, we headed into her small kitchen and sat at the table, barely taking the time to get plates, as we taste the food from the carton.

Gazing out of the window at the building next door, I said to her, “You know we will have to cook our own food to make ends meet.”

“You can cook?” She questions as if I’m an alien from Mars.

“Can’t you?” I narrow my gaze. “Of course I can cook. That’s one of the first things a girl from the south is taught, how to cook,” I say. “Why I can make a brown gravy you could swear has meat in it.”

“Hold that thought,” she says pointing her finger at me, “because we will be eating that gravy without meat if we don’t get a job soon. And there’s the other option.”

“Oh, hell no,” I say shaking my head. “Can you borrow some money from one of your boyfriends?”

“They are desperate as I am in this city with the way rent is. One wanted to come live with me but I told him no and good thing I did. You would probably be sleeping on a park bench, or in between Troy and that cocktail waitress in his big king size bed.” She eyes me. But I take her joke and say nothing. “How much money do you have?” She asks me knowing the answer.

“I think I have about forty dollars and nothing in the bank.”

“That seals it. We’re taking the stripper job. I’m calling my friend and we’re going to start this week.”

*** 

F
riday night rolled around and Tamika was her usual upbeat self. She was happy no matter what happened in her life. She could go with the flow better than anyone I’d ever met. Me, I was the opposite, always wondering and worrying about what would happen next.

I was so panicky I felt like I couldn’t breathe. She brought me a makeup case. “Here you are going to need this. It’s compliments of the club we’re working for. And they sent this. She pulls out a two piece red outfit that looked like a swim suit. The top is a bra with sparkles on it and the bottom is a thong, then she drops a pair of red stilettos with studs on the heels.

I’m sitting there in a daze.

“You have to shave that hair. All of it. It doesn’t matter if Troy thinks all that hair is sexy. The club we’re dancing at is frequent by rich white guys and they don’t want to see a bush. We might be the only black girls dancing tonight, so make sure you shave your legs too.” Before leaving the room she turns, “We can make a lot of money tonight. Just because we are the only black girls so don’t fuck this up, Leila. And for god’s sake don’t use your real name.”

It was already fucked up. I threw up twice in the toilet because my stomach was nervous, and I wasn’t handling this well. The idea that someone might see me and I would never be able to get a job in banking or anything else had my stomach in a knot. Even if things got much worse, I could probably get a teaching job, but if anyone found out, who knows what would happen. But that was the least of my worries. I couldn’t walk in the high heels and I didn’t have time to practice.

My mind was on trying to keep from breaking a leg. I had worries galore and that left little time for concentrating on Troy. I didn’t even have time to miss his handsome black ass. Then I thought about the man who had picked me up from the highway. Boy wasn’t that stupid. He could have been a serial killer. But he seemed kind of nice for a rich white guy. He did say if I needed anything to call him. Maybe he was just drunk and didn’t know what he was saying or doing?

When I looked up there was Tamika. “OK Leila, put on your big girl panties and let’s go do this.” She stood looking at me and straighten my wig. “That blond wig looks good on you.”

“I don’t like to wear wigs. Couldn’t they have sent a dark one instead? You said the owner needed black girls so why do I have to wear a blond wig?”

“I don’t know. Just wear it and don’t complain. We’re going to make some serious tips and we are getting paid by the club too. Since we are new, they’re sending around a limo to pick us up.”

“Yeah, to make sure we get there. Couldn’t they have found some professionals to do that job?”

“I was told that these rich men want girls that are new to this.”

“Why?” I ask Tamika.

“I don’t know and don’t ask so many questions. The car is out there,” she said looking down at the street from her window.” I reached for my bag and put it over my shoulder and reluctantly traipsed through the door into the elevator and in the lobby. I stood a few seconds and took in a deep breath and marched outside where the limo driver stood smiling with the door open.

Tamika spoke to him and he tipped his hat. We entered the car and he closed the door behind us and then got behind the wheel and headed for Manhattan.

The driver drove the car to the doors of this elaborate mansion and stepped out and opened the door. We looked up and around as if we weren’t used to anything and we weren’t used to this. “It doesn’t look like a club to me,” I said to Tamika looking around at the large dark mahogany double doors.

“It is. Trust me.”
The last person that said trust me was Troy and look where it got me
. I thought.   

I had my finger on the bell and the door opened and a tall blond man stood to the side. “Hi Tamika, we were waiting for you. Glad that you could make it and you brought your friend.” He looked me up and down. I felt his blue eyes all over me. The members should be arriving shortly. Here are your dressing rooms.” I looked up at him, he was about six four, and he smiled a creepy smile.

“Some of the girls are already here getting ready to go on.

“How does he know you? Tamika?” I ask her.

“I worked here one night on weekends when I needed some money.”

“Oh. And why didn’t you tell me? And didn’t you tell me not to use my real name. “I’m your best friend after all.”

“Because you would have told that holy-than-thou boyfriend of yours. And he would have told you not to see me, and at the time, you were stupid enough to listen to him.”

She was right. That was then. Now I have a different outlook on life.

“Get ready it’s time for us to go on.”

“Do we go together?”

“No. You have your stage and I have mine. The place is large and you dance to the right and I’m in the middle because I’m the featured dancer. I was the only black girl dancing at the time and the men seem to like that so they gave me that spot whenever I come in. Now put on your uniform and get out there.”

“It wasn’t a uniform. It would sounds nice if I were a nurse, but I was putting on something that wouldn’t be legal inside or outside. It was one step from being naked.

Finally it was time to get this over with. If I could have fainted, I would have, but I was afraid I would fall off these red shoes and break my neck. I walked to my circle in front of a row of lounge chairs. I couldn’t see much because of the spotlight, but I could make out that one of the chairs directly up front was empty. The other chairs surrounding it was occupied. The music was playing and I walked out and stood there wondering what to do. Then someone yelled “do something, baby.”

Remembering that I needed money to buy food and pay the rent, I strutted around and turned my back on them, showing my buttocks, with the string down the middle cutting into my ass, just barely hiding my anus. I glanced over at Tamika and she had a wide smile on her face like she was enjoying herself, and she had money hanging out of her bra. They were hundred dollar bills.

I wanted to keep my back to the men sitting whistling. I thought if I didn’t have to look at them I could get through this. Then I heard someone yell, “Show us those big brown tits.” That made me freeze and I grabbed the pole and slid around on it, and back facing the wall just letting them see my ass. But then I saw Tamika mouthing, “
Turn around. Do something.”
 Finally, I got the courage to turn and when I did, the large wingback chair sitting in the middle was occupied. Then a tall man about six feet stood. He waved me over, and directed me to lean forward, and I did, and he placed an envelope between my breasts. He glanced at me tilting his head to the side and sat back down.

The lights were blinding me. I tucked the envelope to the side and it stayed in my bra because it was so tight, it just pushed up my breasts making them look gigantic.

The first half was painful but as I began to dance, and the men drank until they were drunk and smoked their cigars, they didn’t seem to notice that I wasn’t doing anything. Well not all of the men. The one sitting in the middle seat sat there quietly drinking with his legs crossed. His focus never left me.

It was break time and I left the stage and on my way to the dressing room, one of the stage managers controlling the doors, and when and where the girls will dance, and how long, stopped me.

“You have to go to room 205 for a lap dance.”

“For a what?” I questioned.

“You know. You girls can make a lot of money doing that.”

“But I’m satisfied with the tips I have now. Do I have to?” I whined.

“It’s one of the requirements of working here. Tamika assured me that you needed the money and you would do it. Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe and these men are rich and are gentleman. This is a private club and there are rules.” I’ve never met a rich gentleman in my life. The two words rich and gentleman shouldn’t be in the same sentence. It should be more arrogant and privileged, now that would describe them.

Grabbing a bottle of water from a tray of a waitress walking by, I drank it to settle my stomach, went to the restroom to freshen up and comb my wig. I still had the envelope in my bra when I looked down. I decided to open it, and I couldn’t believe it. I had five thousand dollars in hundreds. I looked around as if I thought someone would wrestle me to the floor and take it. I was ecstatic and rushed to put it in my locker.

Walking out with a little more confidence and suspicion, I felt that this would be the last lap dance I would ever have to give, and I could do this. “I can do this,” I mumbled. I held on to the wall praying that I wouldn’t fall and then I opened door to room 205.

Sitting there in a black tux, in a chair waiting for me to give him a lap dance was the blue eyed gorgeous man who picked me up on the Westside highway after I caught Troy in a compromising position. There sitting there was the man who thought I was a prostitute, and handed me his card.
What’s his name? Yes, that’s right, Evan Hunter.
My eyes steadily blinking because of nervousness and the long eyelashes.  

This man makes me nervous. What is such a handsome rich man doing in a club like this? He must be able to get any woman he wants. Maybe he likes kinky stuff? But he chose the wrong woman for that.