A bit of a lie, a bit of a truth, an unhappy marriage

Susan hesitated, then decided to go with the cover story she'd hastily constructed. "Unhappy marriage," she said quietly. "Trying to save up enough to start over."

This drew sympathetic nods from several of the women.

"Girl, I've been there," Destiny said. "My ex thought I was working night shifts at a hotel. Stashed away every dollar until I had enough to bail."

"You won't make enough on side stage for that," the redhead pointed out bluntly. "Not if you're keeping the goods covered up."

"Alexis," Sajima warned.

"What? I'm just being honest." Alexis shrugged. "You want real money in this business, you gotta show something."

"I'm not here for the money," Susan said quickly. "Not primarily, anyway. I just... need something that's mine. Something he doesn't control."

This resonated deeply with the group, drawing nods of understanding. Susan felt a pang of guilt for the lie – Reed wasn't controlling, just distracted – but the story had achieved its purpose. She was now 'Suzanne' to them, a woman they could relate to.

"Well, welcome to the family, honey," Ebony said warmly. "We look out for each other here."

Sajima smiled, clearly pleased with how things were progressing. "Why don't I give Suzanne the rest of the tour, then get her a fresh drink? Perhaps she'd like to watch the shows for a while before deciding."

As he led her back toward the club, Susan found herself drawn to these women in a way she hadn't anticipated. Their confidence, their camaraderie, their frank sexuality – it all called to something inside her that had been suppressed for too long.

Back at the bar, Sajima ordered her another vodka tonic, stronger this time. "What do you think?" he asked as she took a deep swallow.

"They seem... nice," Susan said, surprised to find she meant it.

"They are. Fiercely loyal to each other too." He leaned in slightly. "So, will you dance for us?"

The **** was beginning to work its magic, loosening her inhibitions, quieting the voice of reason that had been screaming warnings since she'd first received his invitation.

"I don't have my outfit with me," she hedged.

"Next Friday then?" Sajima pressed gently. "I can put you on at 10 PM. The crowd is good then – not too drunk, still generous with tips."

Tips. The thought sent an unexpected thrill through Susan. She'd never considered that aspect – people actually paying to watch her dance. It seemed so forbidden, so deliciously tawdry.