The woman was thorough. Then again, so was Shadoe. She took her job just as seriously, so she admired Maria’s dedication to her craft. No wonder she was a headliner. This wasn’t just a get-in-and-make-a-quick-buck-until-the-real-thing-came-along type of job for Maria. This was her career. Her eyes simply glowed when she talked about stripping. Shadoe could tell that Maria loved what she did, that she enjoyed being the center of attention, loved dancing and playing to a packed house.
And when Maria finally turned the music on, pointed to a chair, and had Shadoe sit while Maria went through one of her routines, Shadoe was mesmerized.
Not only was Maria beautiful, she was captivating. There was nothing crass about the woman. Sensuality oozed from Maria’s body as she went through her moves, subtly removing each item of clothing—not too fast, not so slow as to make the audience lose interest—and the way she caught the eyes of her audience, let them know she loved what she was doing, like she was really there, as opposed to just counting down the minutes until her show was over and she could be somewhere else. It was magic and Shadoe felt utterly seduced.
And stripped down to just her thong, Maria was unashamed of her body, using every curve to her advantage as she gyrated around the room, completely in tune with the music.
When she finished, her body glistening with sweat, she grinned and Shadoe jumped from the chair and applauded.
“That was incredible,” Shadoe said, moving toward Maria as Maria turned off the music.
Maria grinned. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it. You can do the same thing.”
Shadoe laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. You obviously had quite a bit of training.”
Maria grabbed a towel and wiped the back of her neck, then unscrewed the top off a bottle of water. “Mainly it comes from on-the-job training. You learn a lot of tricks up there on the stage, and from watching the other dancers. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”
Dancers. Maria constantly referred to herself and the other girls she worked with as dancers, not strippers. She’d have to remember that.
“I’ll do my best, but I have to tell you I’ve never done this before.”
Maria shrugged and pulled up a chair, seemingly not bothered at all by her near nudity. “Some girls step onto that stage and go at it like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. Others can dance for years and years and still look like amateurs. You’ll either have it, or you won’t, and no amount of training will help you with that.”
“Have what?”
“It, honey. The magic. You either have a calling for entertaining, or you don’t. Some are born to perform, to seduce men with their bodies and their eyes. Others just climb on the stage to make a quick buck, but they’re never really into it. And it shows.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Maria grinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “There are various levels of strippers, Shadoe. You have your seedy joints, with part-time strippers who are also hookers, or the drug-addicted ones out to make fast money for their next fix. Really low-class stuff. They look worn down, or bored, and you can tell right away that their hearts are not in it. Then there are the ritzier clubs, where you’ll be. Those are the places where the headliners perform, where the owners are choosy about which girls get the privilege of dancing there. They hire only the high-class dancers. Believe me, there’s a huge difference, and you can tell right away between the two.”
Shadoe nodded. She had a lot to learn. “You’re obviously high-class.”
“Well, thanks for that. I like to think so. I’ve worked hard for the past ten years to get where I am today.”
Shadoe leaned back and studied the beautiful woman. “How does someone get into a field like this? I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not like stripping is something every little girl dreams of doing someday.”
Maria laughed. “It’s okay. I get asked that question a lot. I majored in theater in college, but I got bored and antsy easily, and though I loved performing, I found I lacked the patience for all the classroom work. I loved doing the shows, enjoyed the performance aspect, but didn’t like taking the time to study the craft. Bad me. So I took some sideline jobs as a singing waitress and dancing at a few clubs—not stripping just yet—and then I got a great offer to strip at a high-class club because of my dance skills, so I decided to give it a try.”
“Kind of scary for someone brand-new to that kind of lifestyle, I imagine.”
Maria laughed. “You have no idea. The first night my knees knocked together so hard I was afraid I’d fall right off my shoes. But the customers were all encouraging and I fell madly in love with the spotlight. I never left after that. School just wasn’t for me. I had found my calling and stayed there. It’s a kick and a half and I love my life.”
Shadoe nodded. “Life’s too short not to do something you love.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Maria stood and placed her hands on her hips. “So let’s turn you into a stripper.”
Shadoe stood, too, and swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. “You’re kind of a tough act to follow.”
Maria let out a throaty laugh. “Honey, you don’t have to be me. You just have to be yourself. And eventually you’ll figure out your own routine.”
As Maria took her hand and led her to the middle of the floor, Shadoe slanted her a wide-eyed look. “I need a routine?”
“Of course. Every headliner needs an angle. Something that sets you apart from the other girls.”
“You mean I can’t just step on the stage, take my clothes off, wiggle my ass, and be done with it?”
Maria snorted. “Hardly. It’s more than just stripping. It’s a whole act, with music and costumes and choreography. You’ll need a theme.”
A theme? Good God. What kind of theme? Like GI Jane or Wonder Woman or Betty Boop, or something equally heinous or ridiculous? She pictured feather boas, sequins, and fishnet stockings, and those hideous chunky platform boots. Or maybe something in all bubblegum pink. She looked horrible in pink. Gag. So not her at all. Then again, was any of this?
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you a routine going in no time. I’ll help. First you need moves. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Maria hit the music, and like Jessie had done with her the day before, stood with Shadoe, helped her move and showed her what to do, which made it so much easier to get the hang of things.
Though Shadoe didn’t think she’d ever be able to dance with the same fluid grace as Maria, who made stripping look like ballet. Elegant and refined, not at all blundering or tacky. No wonder she was a headliner. She was mesmerizing, and Shadoe felt inept and clunky in her attempts to mirror Maria’s movements. For someone who’d studied ballet since she was a child, she was shocked at how she couldn’t seem to make stripping seem as elegant as Maria did.
“Quit trying to be like me,” Maria finally said after several minutes of dancing. “Watch how I do it, but don’t do it just like me. Feel the music, then interpret it how you see fit.”
Okay, that made more sense, because she was never going to be able to do what Maria did. She finally backed away, closed her eyes, and let the music take over. When the song shifted from softer R&B to something more hard rock, Shadoe smiled.
Yes. This was definitely more like it, more like her. Harder, deeper. She really got into the music then, feeling it seep into her bones, into her very soul. Moving became easy then, like second nature, and she lost herself in the song, in the lyrics, moving around the room, imagining herself up on the stage, knowing exactly what she wanted to do.
She’d always liked modern dance classes, had rebelled against ballet, even though she’d taken the classes because her father thought she should.
She grinned, realizing this was an awesome way to rebel.
She lifted her shirt, picturing a hundred men hungry for a glimpse of her skin.
“That’s it, honey,” Maria said, pulling up a chair. “But not too fast. Make them wait for it. Make them beg for it—with their money.”
She nodded, this time teasing with the edge of her shirt, baring only her belly, then her ribs, swiveling around to show the audience—Maria—her back.
“Perfect. Now give them more. You want to hold their attention, keep them captivated and throwing money your way. With each item you strip off, you make more money. Remember, by the time you’re down to the G-string, all that’s left is the gyrating around and getting your skin close to them. By then they’ve pretty much seen it all, so draw it out as long as you can.”
She did, following Maria’s instructions until she was down to her thong. She made it through two songs, ending on her knees at Maria’s feet.
With a satisfied smile, Maria reached over and turned off the music. “Well done.”
Shadoe smiled and stood, grabbing her clothes and getting dressed. Surprisingly, she felt no inhibitions once she let the music take over. Besides, she figured getting na**d in front of Maria was a no-brainer. She had nothing Maria hadn’t already seen a thousand times before.
But could she do it in a public venue in front of all those men? In front of Spence? Well, technically she’d already done it in front of Spence, but not “officially.”
She grabbed a bottle of water and took a couple of long swallows, then turned to Maria. “Stripping makes you thirsty.”
“I’ll say. I drink about a dozen bottles of water a night. Never drink too much alcohol. If a customer wants to buy you a drink, do one or two at most, then switch to club soda. Alcohol will make you sweat like a pig and dehydrate you, and trust me, that’s so not pretty on the stage.”
“I can imagine.”
“Now,” Maria said, standing in front of her with hands on her hips. “You were great.”
Shadoe couldn’t hide her smile. “Really?”
“Yes, really. You have a natural seductive ability, especially when the right songs came up.”
“Thank you.” That meant a lot coming from a pro like Maria.
“You still have a lot to work on. Don’t be afraid to really let go. Touch yourself, pleasure yourself—within limits, of course. It really drives the customers crazy. Anything you can do to put the focus on your own sexuality will boost your tips and make the club owners happy as hell. And happy club owners mean more bookings for you.”
“Okay.” Shadoe’s photographic memory kept track of the vital information she’d need later.
Maria pressed one finger to her lips and cocked her head to the side. “Now we need to figure out who you’re going to be.”
“Who?”
“Sure. Your theme. You don’t go out there with your real name, honey. You need an identity. Your theme, remember? We can’t go shopping for your ensemble until we figure out who you are.”
“Oh, yeah.”
The sounds of motorcycle engines firing up outside drew Shadoe’s attention momentarily.
But then her lips curled in a wide smile, and she turned to Maria.
“I’ve got it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. And it’s absolutely perfect.”
THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED QUICKLY. MARIA GAVE SHADOE training on the pole for several hours. Dancing around the pole wasn’t easy to master, but was it ever fun. Many years of dance lessons had helped, as had field training at the academy; it meant she was coordinated enough, and had the upper body strength to lift herself up the pole and slide around. She found that part exhilarating, and the pole served as a useful prop, giving her something to do other than just stand on stage and gyrate around.
After a brief break for lunch, Maria took her shopping and Shadoe bought several outrageous outfits—plus shoes and scandalous lingerie. Even thinking about parading around on stage in the clothes she’d purchased made her blush, but Maria told her she’d have customers drooling.
As long as Shadoe could act convincingly enough as a stripper, she’d be happy. But she had a lot of practicing to do before she premiered at the club in New Orleans. She could hardly call herself a headliner if she tripped on stage or blushed all over with embarrassment.
So when Maria offered to let her take a practice run at the club in Dallas where she was headlining, Shadoe jumped at the chance. She knew she’d never think herself ready enough, but with Maria there to help point out her mistakes and give her moral support, she’d feel a lot better about her solo act in New Orleans.
She headed back to Wild Riders’ headquarters much more confident than when she’d left. Grange met her at the elevator.
“How did it go today?” he asked.
“Great.” She set her bags and boxes down on the floor. “Maria is wonderful.”
Grange’s lips lifted. “Yeah, she is. I figured she could help you out.”
Shadoe wondered just how well Grange knew Maria, but it wasn’t her place to pry into his personal business. “I’m going to do a practice run at the club where she’s headlining.”
Grange cocked a brow. “Really. When?”
“Tonight. I’ll go on after Maria’s first set. That way she can give me some advice on what I do well and what I need to work on before I head to New Orleans.”
“Good idea.”
“What’s a good idea?”
Shadoe turned to see Spence walking into the entryway, along with AJ and Pax.
“Shadoe is going to do a dry run of her show at Maria’s club tonight.”
“Cool,” AJ said with a wide smile. “We’ll all go watch.”