Pole Dance Read Free

dancing?” I stumbled over my words with this question. A question I had never thought I would ever think, much less utter.
There were a couple of beats of silence as Jake's eyes held mine, hopefully weighing my suggestion. My heart was thundering heavily as I waited, watching his head tilt in deliberation as if he weighed his verdict, before his honeyed gaze hooked to mine.
“Okay, Darlin', go for it,” he replied as he flipped switches that I saw were embedded in the top of his large dark wood desk. The rest of the room was plunged in darkness and a beam of bright light was now centered over the shiny, metallic pole.
“What song is it that you want?” he asked. “I’ve got it all on the iPod.”
Furiously, I ran through everything I knew in my head. This was my make or break time and this man had probably been everywhere and had probably seen all of that and more. I needed something to really capture his attention and make him sure to hire me. I knew I couldn’t choose something that had been around the block, nothing from anything I’d heard as background in commercials or at the movies I’d seen or even what was popular on the radio. My mind raced with what to pick—a song that would set me apart from other dancers yet show him, the man with my future in his hands, that I was worthy of dancing in his club and making the money I so desperately needed. I thought of and discarded multitudes of songs at a screaming pace as I looked into his shadowed eyes.
“Moby's Porcelain,” I answered softly knowing without a doubt and with every molecule in my body that it would be the perfect choice of presenting to Jake what I was capable of in art of seductive dance.
Fumbling with his iPod as he looked over his shoulder in my direction and with his left eyebrow raised in question, I heard him mumble that a girl my age shouldn’t know about Moby's music.
Lifting myself from the chair with a small frown towards the sky-high platforms I was trying to control as I stood, I bravely asked, “Appreciating good music has an age limit?".
What Jake couldn’t see in the darkness that thankfully now surrounded his desk were that my knees shaking hard enough to topple me. I stood slowly, literally peeling my thighs away from the leather of the chair as I attempted to balance myself on my borrowed four-inch strappy silver sandals. Stripper interviews called for stripper shoes and I had borrowed them from one of my neighbors in the hopes that they would help show me to be the 'burgeoning star' that could earn a lot of money per session. Although, I was now having my doubts about their usefulness seeing how they would probably only reveal my inexperience in not just dancing for money, but in wearing heels in general. Low heeled boots or simple flats were more my speed in footwear.
I finally found my balance and tottered on as I tried to sexily make my way to the stage—a short six strides away from the desk area but it might as well have been six miles. I could hear myself thumping as I moved in the heavy shoes and reminded myself to add more hip-sway in an effort to appear sexier and more worldly.
I could see the circle of light clearly showing where I was to be performing my interview, but my bravado was leaving me with every step I took and in spite of my internal coaching. The light was startling in its brilliance as it pointed down from the ceiling and shot off the shiny brass floor-to-ceiling pole showing me exactly where I was supposed to be. I saw that there were mirrors on each wall surrounding the pole and added highlights to the dancing area.
I approached the platform that would determine the rest of my financial life as a college student and raised one leg to step up onto the 12 inch raised platform as the beginning bars of Moby’s keyboards started.
“I’m not ready, yet,” I threw over my shoulder with one foot on the stage and the other, awkwardly on the floor with my ass unfortunately, and what I was sure was