Club 42 by Joanna Angel

Author:Joanna Angel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Club 42: A Choose-Your-Own Erotic Fantasy
ISBN: 9781627785198
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2020-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

To see what happens if Naomi goes home, turn to page 172.

To see what happens if Naomi stays at the club, turn to page 184.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just go home,” I said.

“Trust me. I know what I’m talking about. If you stick around and beat a dead horse, it’ll fuck with your head, and then you’ll never make money here again. It will curse this place!” she said.

“Alright! Alright!” I replied. “I’m going.” I started walking away.

“Call me later, let me know you’re alright?” she called after me.

“Well, what if I’m not alright?” I said.

“Well, call me anyways.” She blew me a kiss, then she perked up her breasts and walked away.

I left the strip club feeling like a boxer who’d just lost a match. I gathered my things and walked through Times Square toward the subway, sweating profusely from the humidity. I certainly didn’t deserve a Lyft, and I didn’t even deserve a yellow cab today. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I deserved the subway. Perhaps I should just walk forty blocks, eight avenues, and over a bridge to suffer for being a failed stripper today.

I’d flunked a math course in college, and at the time I’d found that quite humorous. I’d also failed my driving test three times when I went to get my license, and I’d thought that was hysterical. But there was nothing funny about today. There was no silver glitter lining on this stripper cloud, and it made it worse that I couldn’t go home and vent about it, because no one knew about this aspect of my life.

Perhaps today should be the day I told Rob the truth. I wondered if there was a way I could fast forward this confession, and say, “Hi, I’m a stripper. I have been for a few months now. I like it . . . usually . . . but today was a bad day. Now, please give me a massage and maybe some slow and sensual oral sex and make me feel better.”

I sat on the subway and watched my fellow passengers, who were bopping along to music on their headphones, reading on their Kindles, or casually engaging in small talk. All I could think was, no one else on this train failed as a stripper today. I mean, I didn’t think anyone on this train was a stripper at all, but it was safe to say that if anyone was, they probably didn’t fail at it. My parents would have considered me a failure if they knew I was a stripper, but what would they have said if they knew I’d failed at being a failure?

My emotions were all over the place. Between the hangover, the rejection from strangers who stared at my ass, this up and down rollercoaster with Rob, the lying, and a bizarre little side crush on Melody, I felt like I just wanted to melt into a puddle of sequins and body spray.

I got off the train and walked to my apartment.

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