EVIDENCE OF LIES
Prologue
One year ago—Georgia
Ginger Rose’s body undulated to the heavy bass, the movements designed to show off her nearly naked body. She’d shed the outfit she came out in tonight—the policewoman costume with extra bells and whistles—two songs ago. She placed her cop hat temporarily on a regular’s head while she worked the baton between her legs, making love to it in front of him. The men went wild—extra tips.
She strutted around, teasing the crowd with the handcuffs, and men were begging to be handcuffed to her—more extra tips.
Now, she was down to her thong and bra. The jeers, cheers, and whistles provided just so much background noise. Strobe lights lit up the stage. The heavy bass invaded her mind, helping her to move seductively across it.
Her hips swayed as she simulated making love to the pole. She bent over, swishing her hair, gyrating her butt, caressing her breasts, all moves designed to get better tips. They worked. She was one of the highest-tipped dancers at the Strip Away Club, Live Girls. Live girls? That’s a laugh. Who would want to see dead girls? The thought made her smile as she stepped away from the pole and bent over to give one of the regulars a clear view of her privates covered only by a G-string. She stuck out her butt and shook it but sidestepped one exuberant customer who got a little too close to the goods. She was so not going there. Look, but don’t touch.
Ginger Rose knew she wasn’t big-breasted but bending and swaying like this made her breasts appear larger. Even the stilettos made her legs look longer, although she was of average height.
A Britney song was pulsating in the background, the strobe lights keeping the beat as she danced. She looked out at the tables watching men and, yes, some women eating, drinking and paying little attention to her, unlike the men in the front row, who were whistling and staring at her breasts as if they never saw breasts before. Most were drinking, salivating while she danced. Most harmless.
She took her bra off and then she was clad in her G-string and pasties—the silver police stars covering her nipples tonight. Nevertheless, her work wasn’t over after this last dance. She still had two regulars who booked a lap dance from her. Both big tippers, so they would get the full treatment. No real sex but lots of pretend, and they paid highly for it.
Ginger Rose rubbed her hands sensuously up and down her breasts and then over her hips. The men groaned. She knew she was in great shape despite having a baby almost a year ago She worked hard to get back into shape, and it paid off. The ballet lessons she’d taken growing up kept her limber. The hours were good, and the tips and extra lap dances provided milk and diapers for Axl as well as food and a roof over their heads. Only the basics, nothing left over for any small pleasures or treats. But it was way better than worrying about the bill collectors and her landlord camping out at her doorstep. Some might look down at stripping, but she didn’t care. A woman had to do what was necessary for her family.
“Sweetheart bend over again. Give papa a great view of those titties.”
Ginger Rose stared at the man nursing a beer in the front row. Decent-looking, dark hair, middle-aged, not sloppy drunk. He had been here before a few times but wasn’t a regular. If she remembered right, he was a good tipper, so she sauntered over in front of him and bent over slowly, rubbing and shaking her star-covered breasts in front of him.
Leering at her, he groaned, “Girl, you’re looking outstanding tonight. Turn around and give daddy a nice view of that very fine ass.”
Ginger Rose raised an eyebrow and snapped her G-string.
“Oooh,” shouted his friend as he elbowed the man. “You gotta pay for that.”
Taking the hint, the man laughed and put the twenty that he had been flashing in her G-string, all the while trying to grab an extra feel. She shook her finger at him—no. Then she smiled and turned around, bent over with her ass swaying, breasts undulating back and forth to the music. Standing up, she slowly rubbed her hands over her breasts and thighs. The men went wild. She sashayed around the stage, then danced back to the man, squatted, and shook her breasts in front of him as he placed another twenty in her G-string.
She did a long stretch on the floor, seducing the audience, giving them a great view of her barely covered pussy, stretching left, then right, standing, squatting and doing the hair shake, all the while praying her brunette wig wouldn’t fly off her head. Then back to the pole. Ginger Rose twirled and bucked around it another few minutes, then walked once more around the stage, shaking her tits whenever someone tucked money in her G-string.
The last song ended. She blew a kiss to the audience as she sauntered down the runway through the lighted string curtain to the dressing room. She had a half hour to change, fix her makeup and get to the private dance room. She spent a few minutes exchanging pleasantries with some of the other dancers. They were a mixed bag of full-time strippers, students and single moms trying to stay one step ahead of the bill collectors. That was her.
Makeup fixed, she pulled up the thigh-high boots and adjusted the straps of her uniform as she quickly walked to the private rooms. Her first lap dance was with a new client who requested she dress up like a nurse.
“Good night for you?” asked one of the burly guards. He didn’t look familiar, but management was always hiring new bouncers. Many of them had families to support like her. His name tag read Manny. Thankfully, she worked in a decent club, and there was no hanky-panky going on in the club or drugs that she knew of. The club’s owner, Henry, made sure the girls working there were safe and protected. What the girls did in their spare time outside the club was no one’s business. Inside, the men behaved, or they were “escorted” out and not in a nice way.
“Great tips tonight,” she answered. The guard smiled. The strippers had to share tips with the bouncers and management, so a good night for her was a good night for everyone. He saluted her and started down the hallway.
“Manny?”
The bouncer stopped and turned. “Yeah?”
“I have another dance after this one, and that guy”—she hesitated—“is a little weird.”
“Weird, how?” He made a fist. “Do I need to toss him out on his ass?”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m just uncomfortable sometimes because he’s always asking me to run away with him or marry him. You know, making a joke of it. But he tried to follow me once. I … ” She fiddled with the uniform strap again. “Just check on me occasionally. Okay?”
She didn’t want to lose a good customer, but she also didn’t want someone creepy following her, learning where she lived. She was glad Manny would look out for her.
“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out. Give a shout out if he bothers you.”
“Thanks.”
Pushing open the scratched, cheap wooden door to the private room, she saw her new client was already comfortable in the armless chair. The smell of sweat and sex covered up by the overpowering vanilla scent of their cleaning liquid nauseated her. She exhaled deeply. The client stopped rubbing himself and gave her a big, toothy grin as she glided in, the background music already playing.
An hour later, Ginger Rose was on her way to her last lap dance of the evening with the other regular. He usually had no special request for her and kept his hands to himself. He was easy to please, albeit a bit creepy. He was also talker, always trying to get personal information about her, always asking her to run away with him, always making it a joke. She always smiled and shook her head.
Ginger Rose knew he had a crush on her, but he never went any further except for that one night when he had hung around outside hoping to talk to her. She got concerned and had to set him straight. He apologized, left, and it hadn’t happened again.
He came to the club almost every night she danced and sat in the front row, staring at her. Definitely weird but not the only one, though. Besides, he was a good tipper. He didn’t look rich, and she wondered how he could afford the drinks, tips and lap dance. She shrugged. Not her concern.
The only concern she had at this moment was performing, cleaning up, and going home to sleep. She would pick Axl up from Trish’s tomorrow morning and then watch Trish’s daughter while Trish worked her shift at the club. That saved her thousands of dollars she didn’t have and benefitted both of them.
Stripping was not how she planned this part of her life. She always assumed she would be married to Jim and they would raise their son together. She never planned on Jim’s dying. She always believed that she would finish college and establish her own business, preferably a quaint bookstore with a coffee bar. But that dream was put on hold when her mother, who was babysitting and helping her financially with Axl, died. Then Axl got so sick, she couldn’t pay for doctors. So here she was. Stripping and dancing for men, making good money for part-time work. Putting her dreams on hold—for a while.
Sighing after her last lap dance, Ginger Rose changed into her street clothes, waved good night to others leaving, checked the parking lot, then walked to her car. Life was as good as it was going to get until Axl went to daycare full time and she could get a day job.
***
Aaron Oakman watched from the shadows as Ginger Rose and another girl walked out of the Strip Away Club. They called good night to each other, and she got in her little red car and drove off. He wanted to follow her, to see where she lived, to finally bring her to his home. But his mama’s car had died a couple of months ago, and with no extra money, he was forced to walk, hitch or take the bus. He shrugged. None of those were conducive to following a person.
Although it was late at night, the air was still humid. He swiped at the drops of sweat running down his neck. He stopped to adjust himself, his cock limp, but, damn, his underwear was damp because he shot his load again while Ginger Rose was rubbing against him. He wondered if she knew how she affected him. He’d learned to wear dark pants.
He walked around the corner to catch his bus. He was grateful they ran all hours of the night, but he would still have to walk a mile to get home. He strolled past the club, which was always busy and would be until the wee hours of the morning. Music blasted from the various bars lining the street. A few drunks who couldn’t hold their alcohol shuffled around the alleys. Smells of liquor, unwashed bodies, and vomit permeated the street. People were laughing and walking around to different bars, but the Strip Away was his favorite. It’s where he met Layla, God rest her soul, and now Ginger Rose.
He sat at the empty bus bench, figuring he had about a half hour to wait. Plenty of time to rehash his latest visit with Ginger Rose. His pants were getting tight again. His cock got hard every time he thought of the green-eyed, brunette beauty, how she danced just for him, rubbed her delectable breasts against him, smiled just for him. Soon he would be able to touch and fuck her as much as he wanted, and she would love it.