Edge of love and hate

Chapter 3

Emerging from Adrian's office, dusk had settled, and the dimming sky was painted with hues of the setting sun. Olivia stood lost in thought as she contemplated the looming expenses of her father’s hospital stay. With her modest income as a dance performer and the uncertainty of when her bank loan might be approved, the weight of her situation suddenly felt overwhelming.

"Olivia!" A tap on her shoulder startled her; it was Zoe, her high school best friend and confidante. Although their paths had diverged since Zoe married early, their bond remained strong, and their rare meetings were filled with endless conversations.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked, surprised.

"I came for a prenatal check-up," Zoe replied, patting her belly gently.

"Why didn't you tell me such big news? Congratulations!" Olivia exclaimed, genuinely happy for her friend.

"It's only been two months. I wanted to be sure before going public. How about you? It’s been a while since I've seen you and your dad. How is he?"

Hearing her father mentioned, Olivia's tears began to flow again. "He's had a heart attack. He's currently undergoing conservative treatment, and I'm hoping to arrange surgery for him."

Zoe looked worried and unsure how to comfort her friend, simply squeezing Olivia's hand and saying, "If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Olivia hesitantly asked, "Could you lend me some money? The hospital expenses for my dad are quite high."

"If I controlled our finances, I would help you in a heartbeat, but I'm currently not working, and my husband manages our money. I really don’t have much. But I can suggest a way to make money quickly, though it's a bit... unsavory."

"What way?"

"Well... There’s a club in Manhattan. They have striptease on every Friday nights, attended by socialites, and even the entrance fee is a few thousand dollars. Olivia, you're beautiful and a great dancer. If you performed there, you could make a lot more than what you earn at the theatre."

Olivia felt tempted but hesitated at the thought of performing striptease.

"If my dad were aware, he’d say he didn’t raise me to become an exotic dancer."

Olivia's father loved her dearly but was very strict with her upbringing. He even prohibited her from going out alone with boys until she was fifteen. As a result, she didn't have many male friends. Once, when a group of boys called out her name on the path outside her house, her father opened the window and glared at them until he scared them away. It wasn't until she was twenty that Olivia first went to a bar. She hid in a corner, watching men and women dancing passionately on the dance floor, feeling as helpless as a little lamb.

Such an upright and strict father would never allow her to visit a strip club, let alone perform on stage. But money was desperately needed.

"A hospital hears more prayers than a church," she muttered to herself.

"Do you have a contact for this club? I'll go."

Armed with contact from Zoe, Olivia found her way to the Red Room club, which had the guise of a speakeasy. Once inside, everything from the doors to the walls and ceiling was draped in striking red. A provocative nude painting hung on the wall, stirring the imagination.

The manager of the dancers, Justin, a young man with flamboyant makeup, lit up upon seeing Olivia. "Absolutely perfect, just the kind of innocent yet seductive look we need here. Come with me to the dressing room."

Hesitant, Olivia followed.

Pushing open the dressing room door, Justin tossed Olivia a piece of clothing, or more accurately, a piece of fabric, since there was so little material.

"This?" Olivia asked incredulously, “How?”

"You're here now; what did you expect? You're here to please men—and a few women. Forget your inhibitions; you’re merchandise here. Merchandise doesn’t choose its packaging."

"Understood, thanks for the tip," Olivia replied, changing into the garment. Justin's harsh reality check struck a chord. Here, dignity was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Justin took Olivia's hand, examining it thoroughly from top to bottom, inside and out. "Not bad, indeed a beautiful pair of hands—slender and elongated, with soft, fair skin. But the manicure needs redoing. Switch to something with fluorescence. It's sexier and more enticing to caress a body in the dark like that."

"And the hair, the figure, everything from head to toe needs proper care. Men like their dolls to be exquisite."

Over the next few days, Olivia was constantly rehearsing her striptease performance in the dance studio. Although she had been dancing since childhood and had a solid foundation and great flexibility, some of the movements were embarrassingly difficult for her.

"Remember, be seductive but not vulgar. Men don’t like cheap goods that are too easy to get," Justin said as he watched Olivia rehearse. "Yes, just like that. I guarantee you'll knock every man in New York off their feet on the night of the performance."

A few days before the show, the club released news of Olivia's upcoming performance with the headline, "The Innocent Star's First Performance." The notion of a pure yet sexy woman making her "first" appearance excited many men. On the evening of the performance, the club's parking lot was filled with a variety of luxury cars. Men of all ages, from their twenties to their sixties and seventies, dressed in sharp suits and polished shoes, stepped out of their cars. "Each one a wolf in sheep's clothing, a human-shaped animal that can’t escape primitive desires," Olivia thought to herself as she watched the guests arrive from the second-floor balcony.

Zoe had heard that today was Olivia’s performance day and specially came backstage to deliver a large bouquet of jasmine flowers. The white blooms stood out strikingly against the red decor, pure and lovely. Tucked among the flowers was a greeting card that read, “I know you’ve been going through a tough time recently. No matter what, my heart is with you.” Olivia almost shed tears upon reading it, but fearing she would ruin her makeup, she quickly dabbed her eyes dry with a tissue.

Raised in comfort and respectability, Olivia never imagined she would find herself in such a place. But for her father, she was willing to set aside her pride.

The show began with a few veteran dancers warming up the crowd. Then it was Olivia's turn; she performed the classic Dita Von Teese champagne glass dance. The lighting was dim, highlighting only her graceful figure in the champagne glass-shaped chair. The previously lively audience suddenly fell quiet, completely enraptured by the performance. As the show concluded, Olivia posed for a bow and was met with a burst of applause. The audience members below began lifting up silver notes, a type of club currency used to tip the dancers on stage.

Backstage, Justin clapped his hands and said, "That was beautiful. If I were a man, I'd spend a fortune on her! Oh wait, I am a man." Olivia felt a huge sense of relief. She had been under a lot of pressure from the days of rehearsal and had been nervous just before the performance, but it turned out to be a great success. Backstage, she and Justin embraced excitedly.

"The night isn't over yet. Let’s see if there’s a wealthy young gentleman who is generous enough to ask for your company," Justin said. Olivia, feeling nervous, fiddled with the hem of her dress. "Is it just accompanying them for a drink? Would there be other things expected?" she asked.

"Other things are up to you. If you're interested, that's also an option," Justin said with a wink. Olivia shivered.

A waiter entered the dressing room and said, "A guest has offered a hundred thousand dollars if Olivia would join him for a drink."

"See, what did I tell you?" Justin excitedly slapped his thigh. "Old rule, we split all earnings fifty-fifty. Put on a good show, and the guest might even offer more."

Olivia nodded slightly, signifying her agreement. She was here to make money. Her goal was clear; nothing was more important than her father's life.

Following the waiter to a private room, she pushed open the door and was momentarily blinded by the bright lights. After closing her eyes for a few seconds, she could finally see clearly. There were four men sitting in the room. Two of them she didn't recognize; they appeared older and more maturely dressed. The other two she knew.

One, sporting a beard and wearing a dark purple floral shirt, was puffing on a cigar—her ex-boyfriend, Matthew. Sitting beside him, silently fiddling with a Claddagh ring on his finger and appearing indifferent to the surroundings, was the genius doctor, Adrian.

"Long time no see," Matt said, exhaling a smoke ring.