The next step

The club

She was exhausted by the time she got back to their apartment.

Although it was 'their' apartment, which held memories, it was a really great apartment. Vaulted ceilings with surrounding windows giving a panoramic view of the city streets below. It was truly breathtaking at the right time of day.

She thought about the dinners with him on the terrace. She thought of the times he'd bent her over the railing. How could she leave their apartment? This was their home. They had found this together. He wanted a high-rise and a balcony. She wanted privacy and an open floor plan. This offered both. It was their sanctuary.

It had taken her months to actually pack up any of his belongings.

Any article of clothing that still smelled like him was utilized in bed.

She had placed each of his tee shirts that held a lingering scent, over his pillow. She used it to cuddle every night after his death. His fragrance had slowly subsided from each shirt, and although she'd tried to recreate it with his cologne, it never smelled quite like the original.

After a while, she admitted defeat and boxed his side of the closet. More than one bottle of wine was consumed that evening. Red. Their favorite.

She slipped out of her heels onto the tile floor. She felt the cool sensation on the bottom of her feet and closed her eyes to soak it in. She relished the feeling and started to slowly remove her clothes, dropping each piece as she moved around the room. She slowly pulled the hem out of her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse. She released the back zipper of her skirt. It slipped down to her ankles and she easily stepped out of it. Unhooking her bra, she let her arms dangle, allowing it to fall. She walked slowly, pushing her panties lower.

Once her clothes were removed, she reached up as high as she could and stretched her body taller, feeling each muscle, and lazily yawned.

She decided to just leave her clothes off for the remainder of the evening.

Years of team sports had given her an athletic build, plus she'd always been curvy. Her figure had always granted her wanted and unwanted male attention. Form-fitting clothes that accentuated her figure had always been difficult to find, having a slightly bigger butt and small waist.

She opened a bottle of red and proceeded to start dinner when her phone dinged.

'Whatcha up to?'

"Who the f**k is this?" She muttered out loud. Not recognizing the number, she laid the phone back down on the counter and continued to cook.

*ding*

*ding*

Her brow furrowed. wtf.

She picked up the phone again and read the message. Shiiiit. When did Reggie get into town??

'Wassup my brotha from anotha mutha??' She chuckled as she typed the message.

'Muh sista from anotha mista.' was the response. She chuckled again as the phone rang.

"We going out tonight?"

"Duuude. I just got home and comfortable. When did you get in?"

"Bout an hour ago. C'mon. I don't get the chance to hang with my big sis enough."

"Hhhhhhh," The longest sigh she could muster escaped as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Diamonds?" she asked. Knowing it was Diamonds.

A chuckle came through the phone.

She shook her head, fixing her gaze upward. "I'm cooking dinner. Gimme an hour or so."

She hung up without waiting for a response.

"Ms. Kris? Awww s**t, it is you."

The ridiculously large bouncer unhooked the velvet rope to allow her to enter.

"Hi Jimmy. How's life?"

He pretended to closely study the pages on his clipboard, fingering down the names on his list. "You dancing tonight?" He said with a sly grin.

"Now you know better." she said, pressing her lips together in a frown and furrowing her brow.

He chuckled and gave her a hug. "Kids are good. Wife is good. Can't complain. You know where your brother is."

She nodded as he opened the door and she strode in.

For an early Thursday night, the club was already packed. The bar was buzzing and each of the dancers looked great. She marveled at the progress of the newer girls. Those extra lessons had really paid off and the stacks of cash on each of the stages proved it.

She glided easily through the crowd. Her presence commanded attention. Her mid-back wavy brown hair and big brown eyes were soul capturing and crowds had a tendency to part as she moved through them, making eye contact as she went.

She waved at Trina the bartender as her drink was prepared and placed on the bar. She lifted it and continued walking without stopping.

Regulars knew not to mistake her for one of the dancers and reach out for her and would educate the newer clients to do the same.

There had been an incident.

An overly drunk and apparently aroused man had mistaken her for one of the regular weekend dancers and decided to get aggressive. She wasted no time teaching him a painful lesson. One he wouldn't soon forget.

The story circulated in what could only call an urban legend. From that point forward a large 'hands off' sign may have well been posted on her chest.

Diamonds was the hottest strip club in town.

And it was hers.