The Dancer, Part 22

Read Part One

Part 22

Falling back on one of my mental options from a few minutes ago, I decided that heading outside was the best idea. I did so immediately upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, as the winter air wouldn’t be quite as bad now that I was dressed again.

Sure enough, there were a few people braving the cold for the sake of smoking. It wasn’t a habit I ever planned on taking up, though I tried not to judge. At the moment, I was far more inclined to talk to a small group in a secluded spot than risk the mob mentality from earlier that gave so many people in the crowded living room an excuse to feel me up. Though I was wearing clothes, there were probably countless people who assumed it was fine to violate my personal space now that I had been presented as a slutty stripper who was there for just that reason.

“Umm, hey,” I greeted, feeling rather nervous and awkward about my approach. The trio didn’t look familiar to me in the slightest. Maybe we went to high school together? I had no idea.

“Nice show in there,” one of the guys chuckled, “You off the clock, or is there still time to request a lap dance?”

Slightly flushing at how I was being perceived as a girl who could be talked to like that when everything I did earlier was such a far cry from my usual personality and behavior, I made a point to stay as polite as possible due to my current circumstances and needs. “Can I ask a favor of one of you? Please?” I asked. Stretching the truth a bit, as I was fairly confident Autumn had intentionally tucked my belongings away in a place I wouldn’t easily find them, I said, “I lost my phone. Could I borrow one of yours and order myself a ride? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“It’s free of charge if you flash us your boobs,” he winked.

“Don’t be a dick, Josh,” the guy next to him said, “Bella, right? You can use mine.”

Thank you,” I exhaled in relief. Fucking finally. A single decent person who wasn’t viewing me as an object or a target since this all began. My guard was still up, of course, but he ended up handing me his phone without any strings or belated games involved. He had even pulled up the necessary app for me. I quickly put in my information, along with a note that the ride was for me rather than what the account would show. Then I took a minute to find his Venmo so I could request the amount from myself. Though I was desperate to get back to my place, I wasn’t about to let this guy pay for it himself.

Then I just had to wait. I was definitely not wearing enough clothes for the now January weather, but I also wasn’t about to head inside and deal with any more party guests and former classmates than I had to. The guys tried to strike up a conversation with me once or twice; my curt answers quickly made it clear that I wasn’t interested. It was admittedly a little bit bitchy of me, especially when one of them had been so kind as to lend me his phone for what I needed, but I was just so done with the night.

Thanking him one more time when he informed me that my ride was almost there, I scurried off the front porch and down the driveway. My own car was parked halfway down the street; similar to how I was abandoning my phone and wallet for the time being, that was going to have to be tomorrow’s problem. After I dealt with the reality of the last few hours, which still hadn’t fully hit me. I was low key in denial about the whole thing, as if it was some other surreal version of myself that had done all that. Stripping down on a makeshift stage, getting countless bills stuffed into my underwear, giving lap dances and making out with a girl and doing all kinds of other things with her in front of everyone . . .

Shaking off those memories to the best of my ability, trying not to think about Zoey grinding me and taking my bra off to reveal my bare breasts for dozens of people to see, I got in the back seat of the car I ordered for myself. My arms were still firmly wrapped around my chest, both because of the cold and the fact that I was wearing a tight top without a bra. The driver got the memo pretty quickly that I wasn’t going to be the talkative type.

Without a phone or anything else to distract me, it was tough to not get lost in my thoughts and memories. I tried to focus on the music quietly playing in the car, the familiar landmarks we were driving past, anything that would keep me from reliving this and that from Autumn’s party. As soon as we neared my neighborhood, it was easier for me to focus on the present–though my parents knew that I was going to be out late, I was still going to be ‘sneaking in’ in terms of not waking them up. Less because I was being a thoughtful daughter, and more that I selfishly didn’t want to deal with any smalltalk when I was in such a scattered and mortified headspace.

Hopping out of the car and taking the side door of the house as quietly as possible, I made it as far as the main floor before realizing someone might think it odd that I ended up home while my car was nowhere to be seen. And without my phone, I was left doing things the old fashioned way–jotting down a note that I made it back safely, and that someone gave me a ride. Honestly, my parents were the least of my problems at this point.

With that taken care of for the time being, I padded up the stairs to the second floor and successfully made it to my bedroom undetected. Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, I found myself unsure of what to do next. My mission of escaping Autumn’s party and making it back home was complete, which was quite the win considering how so many things had been stacked against me, but . . . Heather’s threat was still in play, and I didn’t even want to start thinking about how many phones had been trained on me as I was eventually stripped completely naked in the middle of the crowded room.

I decided to settle in for a night of restless sleep. There wasn’t much else I could do at nearly 1 AM on New Year’s Day. Tomorrow would have to be damage control, amidst other things. Maybe I’d even have a clearer head in the morning.

Maybe my reputation, modesty, and dignity wouldn’t be completely obliterated as badly online as it had been in person.

Read Part 23

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