She’d always dreamt of being on stage, of performing in public to the roar of the crowd. Tonight she lived her dream, singing and dancing in a cabaret, and adored by an eager audience. At the conclusion of her act, her heart swelled with the enthusiastic applause.
As she swanned offstage, her boss said, “Yo, Trixie. Table Five wants a lap dance. Fifty extra for ya.”
She blinked. This wasn’t a classy club at all but a sleazy strip joint on the edge of town. The people clapping were drunken lechers, not patrons of the arts. The floors were sticky and the walls splotched with stains. Someday, she vowed to herself, she would leave this cruddy place for the big city and find the fame she deserved.
Her boss snapped his fingers. “The clock is ticking. What’s it gonna be?”
“Table Five.” She sighed. “Okay.”
Image credit to Erean @ Morguefile.com.
Written for Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge.
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