Chapter 03
Gabriel Dantas
The sound of the water falling in the shower drowned out the noise from the club. My movements were quick, almost jerky, as I scrubbed my skin hard, as if to erase any trace of Sales.
His every touch, his possessive gaze, still seemed to stick to me, even after leaving the exclusive room.
- Disgusting. - The word escaped my lips, almost like a sigh of relief.
The foam from the soap ran down my body, bringing with it the feeling of dirt. No matter how hard I tried, the feeling of disgust wouldn't go away. Sales was the kind of man who made a point of remembering where he thought I fitted in. A luxury object, nothing more.
I brushed my teeth with the same intensity, the brush sliding against my gums almost angrily. The bitter taste of that encounter was still there, and the toothpaste seemed useless.
"Just a little more," I thought, rinsing my mouth and looking at my reflection in the foggy mirror. The look on my face was hard, tired, but determined. It wouldn't be forever. I'll be leaving this place soon.
My work uniform was thrown into the basket anyway, as if it had been contaminated. The robe I picked up soon after was more comfortable, but the feeling of relief still didn't come. Alexandre always tells me that Sales pays well. Not that it made the meeting any more bearable.
- I only do it because I have to. - The words came out low, almost a reminder to myself.
As I tidied my hair with my hands, the thought of being somewhere else came to mind. An office room, a tidy desk, a well-pressed suit. It all seemed so far away, but close at the same time. The idea of letting go of all that here, of never having to put up with men like Sales again, was what kept my feet firmly on the ground.
On the way out of the bathroom, Alexandre was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and an analytical look on his face that never left him.
- Have you finished your catharsis? - The question came with a slightly sarcastic tone, but there was something more there.
- What do you want? - I stared at him, with no patience for games.
- To know if you're well enough to continue. - He moved away from the wall and shrugged. - Sales is an important client, but you seemed to walk out of his office as if you'd just fought a war.
- He's disgusting. Does that answer your question?
Alexandre didn't answer immediately. He watched me for a few more seconds before giving an almost sympathetic smile, something rare from him.
- It won't be forever, Gabriel. That's what you always say, right?
I remained silent, but he was right. It wouldn't be forever. Enough had been endured, and a way out would be found, even if it seemed as far away as the moon at the moment.
The new uniform slips over my body like a second skin. Black shirt open at the chest, tight pants and leather boots that shine under the lights of the Royale. The music in the main hall pulses like a beating heart, filling the air with a rhythm that seems to beg for attention.
Pole dancing always attracts stares. I don't do it for pleasure, but because it's one of the few things I can control in here. My body, my performance, my choice of who I let believe has the power.
The dance floor is full, but my focus is on the stage. I climb the steps leisurely, feeling the stares that begin to accumulate before I even touch the pole. The whispers increase, the anticipation grows.
The music changes. A deep bass takes over, full of sensuality and provocation. The lights become softer, creating shadows that dance with me. I hold the pole firmly, the cold metal in the palm of my hand. A turn, slow and calculated, and I feel the audience hold its breath.
Men in suits, too conservative to admit where they are, are the first to approach. The look in their eyes is always the same: hungry, but laden with guilt. Some look away when their friends stare, pretending they're not interested, but they're the ones who come back night after night.
The pole spins with me, and my legs cross in the air. The rhythm of the music speeds up, and the applause increases. Glances slide across my body like invisible hands, but none of them touch me. I don't allow them to cross this imaginary barrier.
The irony is that many of these men like to say that they repudiate what I do. They're the same ones who talk about morality, family and traditional values. However, in the silence of the Royale, they pay dearly for a few minutes of fantasy, far from the world where they pretend to be perfect.
A quicker spin, and I drop to the ground, knee bent while the other leg extends. The applause is loud, but my mind is already elsewhere. These moments on stage are mechanical. Just a rehearsed routine that keeps me in control.
When the song ends, I run my hand through my hair and walk to the dressing room. I hear compliments mixed with indecent proposals, but I don't respond. Every night at the Royale is a game of masks, and the stage is where I decide which one to wear.
I'm leaning against a corner of the room, my body still warm from dancing. The noise around me is constant, but it no longer affects me. Men pass by with curious glances, some more daring, but I ignore them. I'm not in the mood.
Alexandre appears out of nowhere, as he always does. He has an annoying way of appearing at times when I'd rather be alone.
- You have a VIP client," he says, stopping next to me, his voice low but carrying authority.
I look up at him, already feeling the weight of what's to come.
- Who is it?
- Red room.
The information makes me swallow. My stomach churns and my hands automatically clench. The red room. Just hearing the name brings images of what happened to Kenny to mind. My friend left there scarred, physically and emotionally. And now it was my turn?
- I prefer to pick up normal customers," I reply, crossing my arms. - I'm not up for a beating today.
Alexandre arches an eyebrow, a discreet smile on his face showing that he doesn't mind my reluctance.
- Are you sure? The guy pays very well. He got interested after seeing your performance on the dance floor.
- That's great for him," I retort, not hiding my sarcasm. - I'm not going to serve as a lackey to satisfy the needs of a madman who likes to hit.
Alexandre shrugs his shoulders, without losing his provocative tone.
- It's your choice, Gabriel. I just thought you wanted to raise some money quickly to get out of here. This client could be your chance.
He walks away before I can respond, but his words linger. I cross my arms tighter, trying to push away the internal conflict. Red room or not, my freedom shouldn't come at such a high price. And getting caught certainly wasn't in my plans.