Plastic Nights - Part I

…And there she was again, stripping for lonely drunken strangers probably for the hundredth time in her life. The lights were so dim and her makeup so exaggerated, that if her father were at the bar, he would surely be clapping as all the others. He wouldn't recognize the sound made by her feet while wearing these high heel shoes as he did when she entered home at 6 a.m

-Remember Gentlemen: Two hundred pesos for a private dancing! - Would claim the voice from the sound cabin -Don't forget all our girls are available! Ask your waiter about the hotel service, too!

But she didn't want to “dance” in those shitty rooms tonight; she had been trying to avoid them anyhow for days by being out of sight, sitting in the dark corners of the bar, going upstairs from time to time towards the dressing room to put some more makeup on, change her dress or hairdo. On stage she was meant to dance only a song -four or six minutes tops- at a time, but having her breasts and butt touched by a fat bastard with greasy hands and rotting breath in a little dark room was not something she could handle tonight –No esta noche…

She had noticed the young guy since she arrived at the bar at nine, the only one there at that time besides the bartender and the waiters. He was having a beer and a cigarette, and since the regular lights were still on, she had the chance to have a quick, but good look at him: He was a bit older than she was; not handsome, yet not disgusting either. What captured her attention was the sad and tender look in his eyes, and his funny pose, trying to look tough...