The sultry, melodic lyrics of Billie Eilish’s “You Should See Me in a Crown” enraptured me. I swayed my hips, walked seductively around the pole, and used every movement to pull the audience in. Just like Story had said.
Story’s voice was in my head as I came around the front of the pole. Slowly, deliberately, I removed my gloves—one finger at a time—and then flung them to the side on a beat.
With my back against the pole, I did a few sultry, slow squats to the floor, gyrating my hips. Low to the floor, I put my chin to my shoulder with a flirty smile and enticed the audience into the erotic moves.
Soon, I no longer heard Story’s voice telling me what to do. I was so entranced by the music, I found myself spellbound by my own alluring dance. My body moved on its own, remembering the routine.
With my back to the audience, I swung my hips around, pushed my bottom out behind me, and removed the corset.
I grabbed the pole with both hands, swung my legs up, and hooked myself to the pole, ankles crossed. Turning my legs, I pulled myself into an upright position and seductively climbed the pole.
The techno indie song drew me along, and I erotically maneuvered myself back to the ground—crossing and uncrossing my legs as I spun my way back down. The moves and spins were strategically choreographed to hit each of the seductive beats of the music.
When I reached the stage floor, I flipped my legs up and around so I could inch my way across the stage to the other pole. With my arms braced behind me, I scooted myself along by doing leg twists, and my stockings sparkled provocatively in the lights.
Reaching the spin pole, I pulled myself up, turned once again to the audience, and removed the garter belt. I stuck my finger in my mouth in a shameless come-hither way.
The music picked up in tempo, and I prepared myself to finish the routine.
I flipped up and climbed the pole, alternating my legs, hooking and swinging. I did the splits; the only contact with the pole was my inner thigh. Then I lifted one leg up and connected to the pole with my ankle.
When I could, I let go of the pole with one hand, grabbed my ankle, and pulled it down. I put myself into the layback and forced the spin faster.
The layback was the move I loved the most now. I soared; energy pulsing through me.
I was spinning and spinning, losing myself to the suggestive routine and the thumping bass of the song, and then everything in me broke. I felt the energy running from my fingertips to my toes as I spun around and around. Finally, my chains of confinement and expectations broke free and liberated my soul. They flew off of me; broken by my own sacrifice.
As the music slowed, I reached out to grab the pole, hooked my knee around the inside of my elbow, and gradually circled back down to the ground. Slowing my movements, I was spent and replete.
I was immune to the crowd, only feeling the music and my own heartbeat.
Settling myself down to the ground, the music ended. Everything was quiet, including the audience. Not sure if I was finished. Not wanting it to be over. With childlike sleepiness, I put my forehead to the floor and let everything go. All of my emotions drained out of me, and I stayed like that, feeling the weight of all the decisions I’d made these last few months disappear. They radiated out of me, onto the floor and away—never to be captured again.
For a moment, I almost forgot where I was. At that moment, I knew I was irrevocably changed.
The audience erupted. Clapping and cheers reverberated throughout the theater, but it all sounded far away. The lights were shining down on me when I lifted my head, and I was almost brought to tears. Instead, I laughed. Standing as elegantly as I could from my floor position, I slowly bowed, reveling in my newfound strength and sexuality. And then I left the stage, gathering my corset and garter as I went.
Solara and Story were jumping up and down, clapping and grinning from ear to ear.
“You did it! Oh, my goodness, you did it!” Solara squeezed me tight.
Story wrapped her arms around the both of us. “And you didn’t fall.”
When I stepped back, I was still grinning. “And I didn’t fall.” I fisted my hands, closed my eyes, raised my face to the ceiling—and exhaled. “I did it!”
They both laughed and hugged me again.
“I need to go change. I’ll see you back at the hotel?”
“You did great, girl.” Story said to me as I went back to the dressing room.
When I got to the private room, I took off my shoes and wrapped myself in the bathrobe I’d brought with me.
I curled up on the couch and took my phone from my purse. I had a phone call to make.
After a few rings, his gruff voice answered. I greeted him as professionally as I could, without sounding too ecstatic. “Richard, how are you?”
“Good, Charlotte, good. What can I do for you?”
“Well, sir, I’m not going to be coming back to Houston for the gala, so I thought I should call you personally with my decision.”
His booming voice said, “Tell me the good news.”
“Unfortunately, sir, I can’t do that. I won’t be coming back. I truly appreciate the offer. I know it was extended with sincerity. But I have found a new job that I love, that fits me, and that makes me incredibly happy.”
As I said the words, I knew them to be true. A sense of peace and finality that had been lacking the last time we talked settled within me. That job was in my past.
“I am sorry to hear that, Charlotte.” I heard acceptance, resignation, and a little bit of pride. “You will always have a friend—and a reference if needed—in me.
“Thank you, Richard. I appreciate that.”
We hung up, and I sat in the quiet of the dressing room, reflecting on the call. I did feel at peace. Grinning broadly, I jumped up off the couch to go find Paxton.
Stealthily, I crept around the back of the stage, keeping my bathrobe tied tight.
Climbing the back stairs to the conference room, I stepped inside and saw Paxton sitting at the head of the table, leaning back, expecting me.
I locked the door behind me and sauntered over to him.
With a wolfish smile, he asked, “Did you come to gloat?”
Feigning ignorance, I flirted and asked, “Whatever could you mean?”
He pushed back from the table, legs spread, and I stepped between them, leaning against the table. I put my hand to my heart, surreptitiously untying my belt on the way up. “Oh, you mean that cute dance?”
His eyes glittered, and he stood, stalking his prey, lifting me up and setting me on the table. Stepping between my legs, he pushed the sides of the bathrobe away from me.
I rested my hands behind me, leaned back, and smiled up at him, waiting for approval.
His eyes raked over me, and he brushed the backs of his fingers along the soft skin of my inner thigh. When one of his fingers slipped underneath the sequined underwear—and he pushed it inside me—I gasped, and my smile dropped.
He whispered huskily, “It didn’t look cute.” Oh, how I had missed him. He paused as he bent down and kissed the side of my neck, teasing me with his fingers. “It looked, Charlotte, like you wanted something.”
I was too turned on to speak, so I just nodded.
Slowly, he pulled his fingers from me, and I almost wept from the loss. To prevent him from stepping away, I hooked my legs behind him and pulled him toward me. I reached for his arms and placed them around me in a hug, and I hugged him back.
He kissed the top of my head. “You beautiful, gorgeous woman, go change. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
Smiling, I gently pushed him back from me and slid off the table. Before I left, I said, “Did I communicate my message effectively?”
He laughed, “Loud and… sparkly.”
I practically skipped to the door.
After I changed back into my work clothes and packed up my outfit, I met Solara at the check-in desk. The competition was almost over, and she told me to have the driver take me back to the hotel.
“Are you sure? I can wait for you.”
“You go ahead. We need to make sure everything is packed up before we get to the party. We’ll be right behind you. We won’t take long.”
Back at the hotel, I showered and took my time getting ready.
When I was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I sat outside on the balcony, which looked out over the Pacific Ocean. My room was on the hotel’s top floor, and I could see down toward the outdoor restaurant where the after-party was being hosted.
The patio had several tables, an L-shaped bar, and a standing area with cocktail tables. Solar lights crisscrossed over the deck; they would illuminate the patio in a romantic glow when the sun went down later.
Solara, Story, and many scantily clad local girls started to arrive: They were all broad smiles, wagging hips, completely oblivious to the attention they were getting and, most likely, not caring. I waited for Paxton and Max to descend down the stairs to the deck before heading over.
As I descended the stairs, I caught Paxton’s eye. He was standing at the bar, and he raised his glass to me in a toast, smirking naughtily.
Just as I hit the bottom step, I was engulfed in hugs and coaxed along to a large table situated by the balcony. Food had been ordered, and I noticed that many of the girls were already heartily eating from tiny appetizer plates overflowing with nachos and grilled shrimp.
Solara poured me a glass of wine while she continued to talk about the new studio with the current manager here in California.
Laughter and chatter surrounded me, and I’d never felt more at home.
The warm ocean breeze fluttered my hair.
I took a small sip, thanked her, and she smiled at me. Everyone was smiling and celebrating, and I realized I was happy. For the first time in a very long time, I was truly happy. Everyone was bathed in light from the setting sun; its warm glow wrapped us in a bubble of happiness.
I looked up to Paxton, knowing he was part of it, but also knowing it was all the girls surrounding me as well. Their friendship, their acceptance, and their genuine personalities.
As the sun dipped down over the horizon, the solar lights illuminated the area. They cast a warm glow over everyone and highlighted the party atmosphere.
Excusing myself, I stood, left my glass of wine on the table, and made my way to Paxton.
With one foot on a stool rung, the other stretched out in front of him, he rested his elbow on the bar and watched me cross the patio to him.
I scooted close to him, belly to the bar, and waved at the bartender.
The young surfer-type came over, wiping his hands on the towel at his waist. “Hey, beautiful, what can I get y—”
“She’ll have a Manhattan.” Paxton said, brusquely.
At Paxton’s territorial tone, the bartender visibly shrank back from overt flirtation. I smiled at Paxton, trying to tone down the moment.
I turned back to the barman. “I’ll have a Manhattan, please.” When he had turned to make my drink, I turned a chastising look back on Paxton. “That was kind of cocky of you.”
He pulled me toward him, and I stepped between his legs, completely uncaring that everyone could see us. He responded, ignoring my statement, “You were so beautiful today.”
My hands around his neck, I tilted my head inquisitively, “Did you watch the whole thing?”
He leaned forward and kissed me sweetly. “I did.”
When he pulled back, we simply gazed at each other.
His tone turned serious. “Charlotte, I’m sorry about how I left Phoenix.”
I put my finger over his lips. “Shh. Not tonight. Tonight, I want to celebrate and be with my friends. Be with you.”
He let go of my hands and pulled something out of his back pocket. Under the bar, he reached for my hand.
I quickly glanced down and saw he was giving me a room key. “It’s your choice. I want you. I want you more than anything I could’ve ever imagined. I want to make love with you. I’m yours, Charlotte.” I took the key from him. He spread his hands out to his sides and said quietly, “Yours.”
I couldn’t speak. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and nodded.
Max came up behind me, picked me up, and twirled me around, jarring me out of our intense moment. “There she is! You were fantastic today.”
When he set me down, I laughed, and he stumbled a bit. “Thanks, Max.”
“Hey, Max, you hungry? You want me to walk you to your room? You might have had a bit too much to drink already.” Paxton was laughing at him.
Max slurred his words in response. “Yeah, I guess so.” He pouted like a little boy.
“Okay, man, let’s get you something to eat, and then I’ll take you back to your room.”
I looked at Paxton over Max’s head. As Max sat down at the bar and asked the bartender for a menu, I looked at Paxton and mouthed, “Is he okay?”
He mouthed back. “Girls.”
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing, nodded, and then whispered, “I’m going back with the girls.” He rolled his eyes.
The music had been turned up on the patio speakers, and some of the girls had stood up to dance—silly, girly, fun dancing. I kept an eye on Paxton, noticing when he headed our way to tell Solara he was taking Max back to his room.
She high-fived him and slurred, “Great job this weekend, Paxton! Great job!”
“Yeah, yeah. Not too much more, okay, Sol?”
She grabbed his cheeks. “I love you so much!” Then she kissed him soundly on the cheek.
“I love you too, Sol.”
I watched him leave and fingered the key in my pocket. Did he really think I wouldn’t come? I heard Solara’s voice in my head: He didn’t leave because he doesn’t love you. He left because he does.
I stared at him as he ascended the stairs, guiding Max. I loved Paxton. Deeply. The forever kind. I knew with certainty I was supposed to be with him. He was giving me a chance to choose him.
Startling me from my daydream, Story sat down next to me. “Hey, girlie, I have a gift for you.”
I scooted my butt back in the chair and sat up straight, surprised. “A gift?”
“Yes. You were amazing today, and I’m so proud of you.”
I blushed at her praise. “Thank you.”
“And you do know that you need a name, right?”
“A name?”
“Yeah, a dancer name. Like Story. But you can’t have that one because it’s mine.”
“Story isn’t your name?”
“Does that sound like a name a parent would give a child?”
I thought about it. “Actually… yes.”
“Well, it’s not, and now you need one.”
“What is your name? Your real name?”
She harrumphed. “I’m not telling you. Now here, open your gift. You can think of a name later.”
“Is it Margaret? Or Agnes?” I couldn’t stop teasing her.
“Just open your gift.”
With great care, I unwrapped the beautifully packaged present and carefully pulled out a crystal butterfly. Shards of light reflected back at me as I held it in the palm of my hand, admiring its beauty.
Story shifted uncomfortably, and I realized I hadn’t said anything. “It’s beautiful. Thank you!”
“I saw it and thought of you—that you were becoming a butterfly.”
I stared at it in wonder and whispered, “Chrysalis.”
“What?”
Lifting my eyes to her, I said, “My name. Chrysalis.”
“What’s a chrysalis?”
I looked back at the crystal butterfly in awe. “It’s the hard shell around the butterfly that protects it while it’s transforming.” I lifted my head slowly to her, smiling. “Chrysalis.”
Knowing exactly where I wanted to be at that moment, I stood abruptly from my chair, leaned back down, and kissed her on the cheek.
“I love it! It’s perfect. I have to go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She looked at me with confusion. “Uh, okay. See you in the morning.”
Leaving the party, I stopped briefly in my room to drop off the butterfly and comb my hair.
Paxton’s suite was on the bottom floor, and it had a deck that looked out toward the ocean. Under the outside entry’s glowing lamp, I stood at the door and tentatively put the key on the lock.
Opening the door, I saw him reclined in one of the chairs, hands folded in front of him, arms resting on the side of the chair.
He was looking directly at me, waiting.
“Hello, Charlotte.”
“Paxton.”
He stood and walked toward me. “What took you so long?”
Not giving me time to answer, he grabbed my face and kissed me.