Dancing for the Devil: One Woman’s Dramatic and Divine Rescue from the Sex Industry by Anny Donewald

Author:Anny Donewald [Donewald, Anny]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 2014-10-20T16:00:00+00:00

My father retired from coaching in the spring of 2000, and my goal was to retire from dancing as soon as I could finish college. A college degree was my light at the end of the tunnel. This time I was really, really quitting drugs. I had too much homework to do, and I was raising ’Kaylah alone. She was walking, talking, and full of two-year-old energy. At night I would wrap my arms around her in my bed and spoon her tight. I would press my hand on her chest and feel her heart beating in my hand. The world, my world, expanded and contracted with her every inhale and exhale.

Her big hair and eyes and constant inquisitive babbling made her the perfect distraction from the darkness of the clubs. She was an easy little girl who was filled with joy, and her joy made me joyous. I plugged my dark soul into hers and she kept me alive and motivated. She was the light. No matter how much I had screwed up myself, I wasn’t going to screw her up.

I worked once or twice a week, just to buy diapers and formula and keep food in the house, and put a little extra in the shoeboxes under the bed.

Sure, I was a stripper, but I was taking care of ’Kaylah and getting my degree. I balanced the depravity with domesticity.

When I’d go to the club, I would hire a babysitter, dance sober, get my money, and get out. The culture of sex for sale was not a shock wave to my system anymore.

That’s when you know you’re really screwed up.

During my last week in the club I ran directly into one of the largest financial donors for the university. He knew me, and I knew him. All I could think was that he was going to tell my family that I was dancing. He still had ways of getting messages to my father. Although my actions couldn’t jeopardize my father’s career anymore, this man could sure jeopardize me and ’Kaylah. He was going to blow my cover. My parents had no idea I was living a double life again. They believed I was getting As in my classes, cocktail waitressing, taking ’Kaylah to the park, and being a decent mother. Which for the most part, I was.

My fingernail gently ran through the donor’s ginger-colored hair and said, “I’m Bailey. Would you like a lap dance?”

He was momentarily stunned but quick to play along. This little game ignited his fantasy flame. He wasn’t special. It worked on him as it worked on all the others. Sick, cheap-trick old geezer.

“Yes, Bailey, I do,” he gulped.

Bailey lap danced for Mr. Big Donor all night long. Bailey tied and twisted him up in his own personal perversion. He would never be able to tell anyone who he had seen, where he had been, or what had been done to him. She shoved his own dark suit sock of sin into his mouth and electric-taped it shut.

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