Ellie Labelle | Like It's Her First Time Again

Ellie could only sigh in defeat at the predictable reaction her friends gave her.

“Again? Ugh, you always say no when we wanna go out!” Clara scoffed. “Seriously, is a job at the gas station’s Seven Eleven more worth your time than going to a frat party with me and Karina?” Her sharp, manicured nails tapped against her Pinterest-decorated phone cover as she tilted her head in impatience. Ellie could only minimise her presence by clenching her fists to her chest and avoiding eye contact. “I...” Her mind was buzzing with excuses that would hopelessly make her friend more agitated. “I mean, I don't know, the boys there are...not my type? Besides, I would rather have extra money for more lash sets than waste my time with men who are too drunk to remember my name.”

It was a lie. She didn't need extra lashes, or new clothes, or whatever else is considered performative luxury. She needed to chip in her contributions to next month's rent so her father could have another wink of sleep, but telling the truth would be lame. It would shatter the glass of her fragile social stance in this elite-rotted academy; she would rather die than have her status tombstone be carved anytime soon.

Clara raised a suspicious brow, but her sharp tongue got cut off by the gentle voice of Karina. “I understand.” Her hand was cupped together as if she were Mother Mary herself. “It must be exhausting to follow the trends and social standards here.” Her smile was warm and natural. “It's alright, Ellie. There's nothing wrong with choosing a better path for yourself.” The other girl's lips curled into a smile. “It will be worth it. Your future husband will carry all your burdens as a reward. I should follow your footsteps.” the smile dropped immediately.

“Right! Uh, yeah...for my future husband, mhm.” She scratched the back of her neck skittishly. She could hear Clara groaning at the motive, and Karina seemed to see no wrong in it. It was not that she didn’t swing for men, but after working in that environment for months? It felt nauseating to think that she might carry a child of theirs. Clara rolled her eyes. “Fine, you're off the hook, but only this time, got it? If you decline my invite one more time, I'm dragging you by the hair.” Ellie could only chuckle as they both turned around to head to their designated classrooms.

She checked her phone again. Shift starts at ten. She's got at least a couple of hours to snooze before she has to make a run to the place. What a pain.

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It was 9:30 P.M.

Ellie looked like a robber who had just finished stealing loot. Baggy pyjama pants, black cap, hands shoved into the deep pockets of her hoodie with her eyes focused on the cement floor of the sidewalk. She had done it plenty of times, but she was on the way to the nightclub with the lie she told to her father. Her heart ached when he offered her a ride to her fake workplace, and it pained further when he told her to be careful. In her line of work? Safety is luck, not mandatory.

The routine had been the same. The bouncer gave a gruff as a pass to the employee backdoors. The locker room held the usual banter of veteran dancers powdering themselves with makeup, stripping their clothes to the string pieces the place offered, and a newbie or two looking around absolutely lost. She sauntered to her respective locker with the same frown she had on day one, and stared at the same options she had since the last couple of years.

A neon pink two-piece that shows her ass, a purple two-piece that barely covers her crotch, a white one-piece with a top that's so tight it gives her back pain, and many more options that were not any better.

Karina's comment about her being prudish for refusing to go to a frat party crossed her mind. Men like prudence, don't they? Why else would the creepy old men here call her nicknames that they would say to their niece? Gross, but she needed the money by next week. Morality should be her farthest concern.

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It was 1:15 A.M.

She regretted not drinking once during the entire shift. The nylon she wore around her entire body was making her rounds at the pole messy and uncoordinated. The grip makes her look desperate, and her bunny ears were close to slipping off; clients were quick to slut shame her for it and make nasty jokes. Her VIP clients were too drunk to utter a coherent sentence, and the amount they gave was a gamble as they couldn't tell the amount of bills they were shoving to her face.

It was Summer. The season where everyone goes into heat and is financially careless. Yet, she was making the same amount as she would be during Winter; close enough to be in debt to the club instead of walking out with something in her pockets. She was a minute away from a crashout and letting her heels give up on her stance until a man in a suit approached her.

“Ellie.” It was a staff member. “You got a big shot waiting for you in room twelve.” Her fingers slowed her movements to land on the floor with her thin heels, bending over to pick up the crumpled cash on the stage. “Who?” Her voice sounded agitated. “Another old fart?” “You speak as if you have a choice.” He scoffed with a lopsided smirk. She rolled her eyes.

“But if you're really curious,” He picked up the cash that fell onto the club floor and handed it to her. “It's a woman this time.” She paused. “Huh?”

Ellie thought she was hearing it wrong. She worked here for a long time. She's met men in many different age groups, personality types, those who come solo or with groups; she learned to adapt with all of them...but a woman? That's a territory she had never crossed. “Wait, what do I do? I never dealt with one—” the look of the staff was enough to tell her everything. You're on your own.

That's enough to spook her.

Her steps to the room were shaky. It was a far cry from the desensitised worker that she was minutes ago as her hand reached for the golden handle that looked luxurious and terrifying at the same time. The words ‘it’s just a client’ echoed in her mind like a mantra; a comical form of a coping mechanism to get her ass back into the game and snag as much money as she can for the night. Anything for Dad.

She twisted the doorknob and froze. There she—not he—was. Ellie's eyes connected with theirs as she scanned the stranger. Beautiful, dangerously so, is the best way to describe her. Gender aside, her vibe was alone enough to differentiate her from the faceless drunkards the young woman had to deal with hours ago and even many years before. It made her heart skip a beat.

She closed the door behind her, and her body began to move automatically to the woman on the luxurious sofa. Usually, Ellie could tell what kind of service a man wanted judging from their state and expression. Some would want her to shut up and look pretty while she grinds against their lap like a slut, some would want her to talk to them like she's a giddy girlfriend. She couldn't read her desires, so she had to ask.

“You're my first ever female visitor.” Her tone dropped to that sultry voice that would make any man hard, and she was hoping it would make the woman in front of her feel something too. “What's your name, gorgeous? Or would you rather keep things simple around here and skip the greetings?”

She bent over to make herself eye-level with the other, her body arched and ass up as her hand caressed the seat next to their thigh. Her energy exuded confidence, but her mind was screaming at every detail that could be a flaw to a potential cash machine. “What do you want me to do? I'll make sure that tonight will be a night you will never forget.”