Story, Solara, and I arrived in sunny Orange County the day before the show and headed directly to the venue from the airport.
I’d never been to California, and I was struck by the perfectly sunny weather. Not humid like Houston and not scorching-hot like Phoenix. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and oranges.
When we stepped outside, I lifted my face to the vibrant sun and inhaled deeply, letting the aroma seep into my lungs. I was feeling jittery and anxious about seeing Paxton, and the warm rays of the sun helped to relax me.
The theater was a short twenty-minute drive from the airport. Solara was on the phone as she stepped into the front seat of a black SUV limousine. Story and I rode in the back, and I noticed she wasn’t saying anything. At all. She was staring out at the palm trees passing us by, far away with her thoughts.
“You okay, Story?”
She turned her head to look at me. “Hmm?”
“Are you okay? You seem distant.”
“This was Myla’s last show—last year. It’s bittersweet being here. I don’t really like California.”
She turned back toward the window. I reached out to hold her hand, and she took it, continuing to look at the city.
When we reached the theater, I followed Solara to the large conference room where we were all meeting. My eyes widened at the number of men and women sitting around an oval-shaped table. And in chairs against the walls.
Paxton was standing at the head of the table in his usual competition wear: a black T-shirt, black jeans, and black boots.
My stomach clenched from nerves. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, and my heart squeezed from adrenaline. I wanted to run to him and tell him he made a mistake—and that I loved him—but now was not the time.
He caught my eye, and I smiled tentatively. He jerked his head briefly in a greeting and fumbled around with some papers in front of him. He appeared nervous. For some reason, that made me grin.
From behind, someone’s shoulder bumped me in a friendly gesture. “Hey, Charlotte, good to see you again.” Max pushed me a little forward, trying to get by me.
“Oh, hey, Max. You too.”
Paxton called for everyone’s attention and proceeded to pass around the schedule. “This is our last big event for the season. I know you’ve all worked hard during your individual shows, and we’re grateful to you for volunteering your time to work this final event. Solara and Story have done their best to accommodate those of you that are competing. If we missed someone, please let us know, and we’ll find someone to work your slot.”
I quickly looked for my name and noticed that I was left off the work schedule during my event. My role was primarily working the check-in desk, and I was fine with that. The stage monitor position kind of stressed me out.
Paxton continued talking, and I watched everyone in the room as he spoke. They were listening intently; they respected him. No one cracked jokes or made googly eyes at him. Like I’m sure I had.
Paxton, Max, and Solara were esteemed. It was obvious they were running this business—and running it well. Goosebumps broke out on my arms.
“We’ve made arrangements for a party Saturday night at The Deck on Laguna Beach. It’s right in front of the Pacific Edge Hotel, for those of you that are staying there. Max, Solara, and I hope you’ll all join us to celebrate the end of the competition season.”
He ended by answering some questions and then disappeared out the side door. Solara came to me. She said the driver would take Story and me to the hotel to check in. Max, Paxton, and her had some work to do. She gave me instructions for the morning, and then she told me that Story had the company card to check in to the hotel.
“Are we on our own for dinner tonight?” I asked her.
“Probably. We’ll be late.”
“Okay. Have you seen Story?”
“I haven’t. Check the dressing rooms. She might be helping some of the girls get ready for the morning.”
I nodded at her, and then I headed down the hall to the back stairs that led to the stage and the dressing area.
When I hit the last step, I stood in the shadows of the backstage area and saw Paxton assessing the poles and the rigging. He was double-checking the work to make sure no one would get hurt.
He stood and walked in my direction, not yet seeing me.
I stepped from the shadows. “Paxton.”
Stopping short, he took all of me in at once, and I almost melted. “Hi, Charlotte.”
“I was looking for Story. She was going to ride with me to the hotel.”
He looked over his shoulder to the stage and then back at me. “I haven’t seen her.”
This was a bit awkward. “Well, it was good to see you. And, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned to leave through the exit doors, stuttering a good-bye.
“Charlotte, wait.”
Quickly walking toward me, he shoved his hands in his back pockets when he stopped abruptly in front of me.
My palms were sweaty, and I wrung them in front of me.
Standing still in front of him, I waited patiently for him to speak.
“I…” he paused. Then he leaned closer and whispered, almost in a growl, “Charlotte, I’ve missed you.”
I reached out tentatively, putting my palm to his chest. I whispered back, “I’ve missed you too.”
That one touch was all he needed to reach out and pull me close. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, and then he placed one palm on the side of my face. He wrapped the other one around me—and then kissed the side of my neck and my cheek.
He whispered, “We need to talk.”
I breathed him in. This felt like heaven. After nodding, I pressed my body against his.
He groaned. “This is such a bad weekend. We’re so busy. Saturday okay?”
“Saturday.” I agreed, and we stood holding each other, cheeks pressed together tightly.
A cheerful voice came from behind us, and we broke apart. “There you are, you little tart. C’mon, I want to get checked in, and we need to go over your routine.” As an afterthought, she added, “Hey, Paxton.”
“Hey, Story.” He put his hands in his front pockets, but he was grinning.
I floated off like a butterfly, grinning back at him as Story dragged me out the front door.
Story and I checked in, and she showed up at my door a few minutes later. “We are going to be so busy the next two days. I don’t know when we’ll have time to practice your routine. Run it through tonight in your mind. When you have a few minutes every now and then, try and find one of the practice poles to do a few segments.”
Sitting at the tiny table on the balcony, she pulled up the music. I stood in the middle of the room, ready to run it through in my head.
“Ready?”
I closed my eyes and nodded. She started the music and called out the steps.
“Do your leg circles. Now sunwheel. Change pole sides, and do the side roll. Do the leg hook to a sit and then layout. Lower to the ground…” Her voice droned on, and I moved in a circle, imagining the movement from the static pole to the spinning pole. When we came to the end of the song, I opened my eyes and saw her smiling at me. “Just make sure you are tight on that last layout spin. It’s fast, and the pole will be moving. You don’t want to fall.”
“Great! Thanks for that.”
She stood, looking uncomfortable, and I was embarrassed by my sarcastic response.
She paced in front of me.
I went to her with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Actually, um…” She cleared her throat, struggling to control tears. “I wanted to thank you. You have been kind and supportive during your time with us. About my sister. You don’t know us very well, but I can see how much you care about Paxton and Solara. And Paxton and Solara care about you. I wanted you to know that I do too. You can count on me as a friend.”
“Oh, Story. Thank you.” I put my hand to my chest. “That means a lot.”
“Well…” She composed herself. “Get a good night’s sleep. The next two days might find you cursing all of us.”
She let herself out. I went through my regular nighttime routine: laying out my clothes and making sure my competition outfit was ready. I wanted this new life more than anything. And I wanted this dance to be damn near perfect.
Exhaustion was looming. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that, come Sunday, I was going to want to sleep for 24 hours.
The last three days had been a blur. I’d had no idea people were so invested in this sport. I ran errands. I got coffee. I checked women, men, and others in. Not once did I ever see Paxton, Solara, or Max waver from the business of keeping things moving.
When it was time for me to start getting ready, Solara showed up with my replacement. She took me to another dressing room on the other side of the theater.
“Where are we going?”
“Shh. I’m not supposed to give privileges. But I know how important this is for you, so I finagled a private dressing room from the theater.” She was dragging me down a hallway, and we stopped at a door that had a star on it.
I pointed to it. “Did you do that?”
She giggled. “You deserve it.”
“Thank you.”
She opened the door, and we went inside. “I brought all your things from the other room.” She showed me where my outfit was hanging on the back of the door. “It’s not much, but it’s private, and you can do some visualization. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”
“Thank you, Solara. Thank you.” I hugged her tightly.
“See you in a bit.”
The room was quiet, serene, and small. It was furnished with a small loveseat and a dressing table with a tri-fold mirror. I undressed from my work clothes, and then I put on an oversized button-up flannel that would be easy to remove when I was ready for my outfit.
I started with my hair. Using a flat iron, I made it as long and sleek as I could. Parting it down the middle, I brushed it back into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck. Story suggested that I pull my hair free during my last segment; this ponytail would make it easy to do.
With expert care, I applied the stage makeup, contouring my facial features and highlighting where needed. My eyes were my best feature. I had thick, black lashes (that I accented with liquid liner) and fake lashes that made my eyes pop. I shaped my eyebrows with pencil and applied a shimmering pink eyeshadow to my brow ridge. Cherry red lipstick completed the look.
When I was satisfied that my face was complete, I took off the flannel and put on a nude bra. Silver and black sequins covered just the right places, giving the illusion that I had nothing on. The thong bikini was next, decorated in the same fashion, but with darker straps that could be seen from the front and back. A black and silver garter belt went around my waist, and l left the straps to hang down the top part of my thighs.
The most beautiful piece of my outfit was a black corset, covered in Swarovski crystals so that it would shine and sparkle in the stage lights. It was sexy and seductive, and I put it on with care so I wouldn’t lose the crystals. Instead of hooks, it had Velcro in the front, so I could easily remove it.
Throughout this process, my breathing was calm and intentional. I kept myself in the moment and savored every fluid move, every touch of the fabric on my skin, every rasp of Velcro, and every snap of the bra. I sat back down on the dressing room chair and carefully pulled on the black mid-thigh stockings, rolling them delicately over my feet and gently up my leg. I left the garter belt unattached since I would be removing it later in the program.
When the stockings’ elastic band was secure around my thigh, I put on the black, faux-leather ankle boots. They were open at the toe and laced up the back. The six-inch platform heels were embellished with silver rhinestones.
When the second boot was on, I stood and stared at the girl—the woman—staring back at me in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door.
I felt strong and powerful. Sexual and dominant. I felt like I finally owned my life.
My black satin gloves were on the dressing table. I pulled them on, delicately rolling them up my arm and completing the look.
A knock at the door pulled me from my musings, and I told whoever it was to come in. The door cracked open.
A cheerful Solara asked, “Are you decent?”
“I am.”
Story and Solara both peeked around the door, stepping inside and shutting it behind them. When I came into their line of sight, they both gasped, and Story covered her mouth in surprise.
Solara couldn’t move. “I… Oh, my gosh, Charlotte! You are…” She shook her head. “You are exquisite.”
“Thank you.” I could feel myself blushing.
Story lowered her hand; she was smiling. “You ready to go?”
I simply nodded.
They walked in front of me. A measured pace, so I could keep up in my heels. I felt like a rock star. We went down the hall, behind the stage, and around to the practice area. My guardians, my protectors, my tutelaries.
Story had me do a few stretches, which were difficult in the corset, but I tried.
I peeked out from the side and saw Paxton pacing in the back of the theater. It made me smile. I was so ready to do this.
“Cute, my ass!” I muttered to myself.
Solara, Story, and I stepped back into the shadows and waited. The two of them held my hands, and we breathed silently, waiting for my name to be called. The lights on the stage dimmed to the purple and red I had requested, and my name was announced.
I opened my eyes, and Story and Solara squeezed my hands.
“You got this!” they both said.
I stepped out of the shadows onto the stage. With my back to the audience—I raised one gloved arm high above my head—and held onto the pole. I grabbed my elbow with the other hand, cocked my hip, and waited for the music to start.