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rainbowfic2021-06-01 11:49 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2021-06-01 11:49 pm
Paris Green 7: Balance
Author: Kat
Title: Balance
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Paris green 7 (Moulin Rouge) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Joy, a day in the life)
Supplies and Materials: Photography
Word Count: 573
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in the life.
Warning: sex work.
Notes: Pride #1. Gonna try this again.
Joy always sleeps late.
Why not? She works nights-- technically evenings, but most times she doesn't get back to her apartment until three or four in the morning. So she sleeps 'til noon, or one if she doesn't have any errands, but never later, because two o'clock is class.
Class is why she's a better stripper than her colleagues, even Sierra. Class is what she lives for, two full hours of whatever style of dance her local rec center is offering this season. Class is jazz, tap, barre, salsa, rumba, hip-hop, even classical ballroom dancing. Joy met Lindy in class-- she used to tease her about it, call her Lindy Hop, but she won't think about Lindy now.
Instead she thinks about swing dancing, about twisting her hips just right, about making her blonde ponytail bounce with every step. They don't teach the good steps in this class, the throws and lifts that you get in the Lindy hop, but that's okay. It's good just to lose herself in the music, let her body do the talking.
Then back home for a quick shower and prep before work at six. She does her makeup and hair at home, but she changes at work. Joy's not getting on the subway in five-inch heels, never mind whatever outfit she's chosen for that day. Today it's the slutty cowgirl getup, tiny jean shorts and a tinier plaid shirt tied between her breasts, and of course the hat. She likes to send it spinning out over the crowd, then take it back when she does her floor dances. Amazing how much money a saucy smile and and a wink could earn her when she lifted her hat off a man and put it back on.
Joy likes her stage dances best; she doesn't worry so much about tips and pleasing people then, and grabby customers have farther to go. Plus, the music is hers, whatever she chooses. Tonight, country, which can turn some men off but gets her extra from others. It's a balancing act, like everything else at work is. Be flirty enough to earn tips, but not so much the customers think you want to fuck them. Drink enough to be sociable, but not enough to get drunk. Do your own thing, but make sure it's something the customers like.
She does enjoy her job. She wouldn't do it if she didn't. But it's like any other customer service job- ninety percent of customers are great, but the other ten percent make you regret being born. It's just life. Maybe another job would have less sexual harassment, but she's not willing to bet on it. There's a certain kind of person who thinks everyone else is their property, and they turn up everywhere.
It doesn't matter. She loves dancing, she likes being sexy, and she doesn't mind taking her clothes off. Sometimes she pretends she's in the Moulin Rouge. Sometimes she and her coworkers go out afterwards, laughing around a booth in the local Waffle House or all-night diner.
Unless it's been a terrible day for tips, Joy takes a cab home. Not even she's willing to risk the subway after two in the morning. Another quick shower to scrub off the glitter and the scent of smoke and she can climb into her canopy bed, pull shut the pretty white curtains, and dream of dancing.
She'll sleep late the next morning. She always does.
Title: Balance
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Paris green 7 (Moulin Rouge) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Joy, a day in the life)
Supplies and Materials: Photography
Word Count: 573
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in the life.
Warning: sex work.
Notes: Pride #1. Gonna try this again.
Joy always sleeps late.
Why not? She works nights-- technically evenings, but most times she doesn't get back to her apartment until three or four in the morning. So she sleeps 'til noon, or one if she doesn't have any errands, but never later, because two o'clock is class.
Class is why she's a better stripper than her colleagues, even Sierra. Class is what she lives for, two full hours of whatever style of dance her local rec center is offering this season. Class is jazz, tap, barre, salsa, rumba, hip-hop, even classical ballroom dancing. Joy met Lindy in class-- she used to tease her about it, call her Lindy Hop, but she won't think about Lindy now.
Instead she thinks about swing dancing, about twisting her hips just right, about making her blonde ponytail bounce with every step. They don't teach the good steps in this class, the throws and lifts that you get in the Lindy hop, but that's okay. It's good just to lose herself in the music, let her body do the talking.
Then back home for a quick shower and prep before work at six. She does her makeup and hair at home, but she changes at work. Joy's not getting on the subway in five-inch heels, never mind whatever outfit she's chosen for that day. Today it's the slutty cowgirl getup, tiny jean shorts and a tinier plaid shirt tied between her breasts, and of course the hat. She likes to send it spinning out over the crowd, then take it back when she does her floor dances. Amazing how much money a saucy smile and and a wink could earn her when she lifted her hat off a man and put it back on.
Joy likes her stage dances best; she doesn't worry so much about tips and pleasing people then, and grabby customers have farther to go. Plus, the music is hers, whatever she chooses. Tonight, country, which can turn some men off but gets her extra from others. It's a balancing act, like everything else at work is. Be flirty enough to earn tips, but not so much the customers think you want to fuck them. Drink enough to be sociable, but not enough to get drunk. Do your own thing, but make sure it's something the customers like.
She does enjoy her job. She wouldn't do it if she didn't. But it's like any other customer service job- ninety percent of customers are great, but the other ten percent make you regret being born. It's just life. Maybe another job would have less sexual harassment, but she's not willing to bet on it. There's a certain kind of person who thinks everyone else is their property, and they turn up everywhere.
It doesn't matter. She loves dancing, she likes being sexy, and she doesn't mind taking her clothes off. Sometimes she pretends she's in the Moulin Rouge. Sometimes she and her coworkers go out afterwards, laughing around a booth in the local Waffle House or all-night diner.
Unless it's been a terrible day for tips, Joy takes a cab home. Not even she's willing to risk the subway after two in the morning. Another quick shower to scrub off the glitter and the scent of smoke and she can climb into her canopy bed, pull shut the pretty white curtains, and dream of dancing.
She'll sleep late the next morning. She always does.
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