His Mistress

Stripping? It's the most shameful and degrading job imaginable. At least, that's what I used to think. But when it comes to saving a life—especially someone you love—you'll do things you never thought possible.

The path I chose was ruthless, lined with thorns, but isn't every rose guarded by them? Each wound, each struggle, only prepared me for what lay ahead, a life of fame, temptation, and a love I was never meant to have.

Angel’s POV

The shrill buzzing of my alarm filled the room, snapping me out of my restless thoughts. My hand shot out, silencing it before I groaned and sat up, rubbing my temples.

Another night. Another performance. Another round of strangers throwing cash at me like I was nothing more than a fantasy come to life.

I sighed, pushing the thoughts away as I swung my legs off the bed. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change the reality of my situation.

I made my way to my closet, pulling out a pair of tight leather pants and a matching bra top.  Slipping them on, I draped my long coat over my shoulders, making sure it covered me properly before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.

The club wasn’t anywhere near my neighborhood—intentionally so.

The last thing I needed was my mother finding out where I worked. It would break her, and that was something I couldn’t afford.

The cool night air kissed my skin as I walked down the dimly lit sidewalk. Streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows as I made my way to the subway.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, ignoring the occasional lingering stares from passing men. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my stop, stepping out into the livelier part of the city.

Neon signs blinked above the bustling streets, advertising bars, strip clubs, and all kinds of nighttime pleasures.  Among them was Velvet Desire, the place that had become my second home—whether I liked it or not.

Two bulky security guards stood by the entrance, their expressions unreadable.

“Evening, Angel,” one of them greeted with a nod.

I gave a small smile in return. “Hey, Mike. Hey, Rico.”

Without a word, they pulled the heavy doors open, letting me slip inside.

Immediately, I was hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat.  The bass of the music pulsed through the air, vibrating beneath my feet as I made my way through the sea of bodies.

It was already packed. I checked the time. Six PM. Seriously?

Shaking my head, I navigated through the crowd, slipping past eager patrons and intoxicated dancers.

Finally, I reached the back hallway, where the dressing rooms were. Pulling my key from my pocket, I unlocked my door and stepped inside, exhaling in relief, but just as I was about to shut the door, a voice stopped me.

“Angel.”

I turned to see Red, my manager, standing there with her arms crossed.

“Hey, Red,” I greeted. “Sorry I’m late.”

She waved it off.

"No problem. Your show isn’t until eight tonight.”

My brows furrowed. “Why the change? I always perform at nine.”

Red scratched her forehead, her lips twitching.

“The manager switched it. Said something about the big boss visiting tonight. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

I forced a small smile. “Alright. I better get ready then.”

She nodded, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaving. Leaning against the door, I let out a slow breath.

I hated how much my life had changed.

I never imagined I’d be here—stripping in a club, dancing for strangers just to keep my family afloat.

I had worked my ass off in college, graduating with a first-class degree, convinced that I’d land a stable, well-paying job. But three years had passed, and all I had were rejection letters.

Being a waitress wouldn’t cut it. Babysitting barely helped.

No “respectable” job would ever pay enough to cover my brother’s tuition and my mother’s medical bills.

I did what I had to do. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Shaking off the thoughts, I grabbed a makeup wipe and began cleaning my face.

It wasn’t long before I was reapplying my foundation, adding a bold cat-eye and finishing the look with a deep red lipstick.

Red had already laid out my outfit—a black lingerie set with a garter belt, the breast cups covered in hard rhinestones.

The belt was a little too tight, but I’d deal with it.

I ran a comb through my thick brown curls, letting them fall down my back in soft waves. A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

“Angel?” Red’s voice came through.

Slipping into my heels, I opened the door, finding her smiling at me.

“You look stunning, as always,” she complimented, sincerity dripping from her tone.

I returned the smile. “Thanks.”

“Come on. It’s almost time.”

I followed her out, standing behind the stage as the current performer finished her routine.

The curtains fell, and she rushed back, panting as the other dancers gathered around her, eager to hear the details.

“They loved me,” she boasted, grinning. “Money was practically raining.”

Red turned to me. “You’re up.”

I exhaled deeply, shaking out my hands. No matter how many times I did this, the nerves never fully went away.

Pushing through the anxiety, I stepped onto the stage.

Silence.

The entire room went still the moment I appeared. I kept my gaze above their heads, refusing to make eye contact.

Then, a voice broke through.

“Fuck! She’s hot.”

The lights dimmed, a single blue spotlight shining down on me as the music began to play.

I let my body move, gripping the pole and rolling my hips to the rhythm.

My legs wrapped around the metal as I slid down smoothly, executing a perfect split.  My hands trailed over my body, teasing, tempting. The audience groaned in approval. But among the sea of eyes, one gaze burned into me.

I could feel it. But Who Was it?

I subtly scanned the crowd, trying to pinpoint the source, but found nothing.

“Fifty thousand for the night!” a voice suddenly yelled.

I froze for half a second before my stomach curled in disgust. I may be a stripper, but I was not for sale.

The cheers grew louder, and I threw them a teasing wink before disappearing behind the curtains. Red welcomed me with an excited hug.

“That was amazing, Angel!”

I forced a smile. “Thanks, Red.” I whispered.

A scoff came from the side.

“Pfft. She wasn’t even that good,” Cassie sneered.

I glanced at her but quickly looked away. She had hated me from the moment I walked in here, and I had no energy to waste on her.

“Don’t mind her,” Red whispered. “She’s just jealous.” I nodded in agreement. Cassie was the least of my problems.

Later That Night

The show was over, and now it was time desired dancers to give private dances.

I had always avoided these, knowing exactly what they could lead to. But tonight, I needed the money.

Sighing, I stepped out of my room—only to collide with someone’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, not bothering to look up.

A rough hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

Then, his lips crashed against mine.

Disgust flooded me, and I shoved the man off, slapping him hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped. He grabbed my jaw, pinning my hands above my head.

“Why so upset, Angel?” He sneered. “Aren’t you just a slut?”

Fury ignited in me.

I kneed him in the stomach and slapped him again.

“I might be a stripper, but I’m not a whore.”

He licked his lips, a sinister look forming in his eyes.

“Oh really? But you can be my whore for the night.” My blood boiled as he grabbed my hair.

Adrenaline surged through me, and I twisted his wrist behind his back, tightening my grip on his throat.

“If you ever touch me again,” I hissed, “I’ll make sure you never use your hands again.”

I shoved him to the floor, kicked his legs out of my way, and walked away. Leaving him where he belonged—beneath me.