#12 The Triplets of Emerald Forest
Chapter 1

Harlow

“Honey! Honey! Are you coming or not?” Someone shouted and, no, it wasn’t a parent using some cute little pet name for me.

That would require having parents which I, in fact, did not.

“Keep your bra on, Sugar!” I snapped back, sighing as I aggressively dropped the tube of lipstick I was using down on my vanity.

I checked myself out one last time in the three sided mirror, fluffing out my thick blonde hair that was cascading in waves over my shoulders. I had powder on my face that made me appear golden in the lights of the club and dark, smokey eyeliner surrounding my hazel colored eyes. Puckering my now red stained lips, I nodded at my reflection, feeling satisfied with my appearance.

I jumped off the stool and adjusted my bikini. It was a sparkly purple number with a thong that didn’t even touch my ass cheeks and a top that was simply two little triangles covering my nipples and barely kept my chest contained.

As I walked closer to the dressing room doors, the music got louder to the point where I could feel the base pounding in my chest. I shook my head and went to a place in my mind that allowed me to live with myself despite my employment. I knocked twice on the door, indicating to the security guards on the floor that I was ready.

“Welcome Honey onto stage 2!” One of the bartenders announced over the loudspeaker and then the doors flung open.

I put my hands on my hips and faked my most seductive smile as I strut across the floor with a bouncer on either side of me to keep the eager patrons from getting too handsy. They helped me onto one of the small, circular stages with a pole standing in the middle. I began my show by playing with the bouncer’s long black tie, winking at him. They were good sports, always playing along and taking good care of us dancers.

The Mpire Gentleman’s Club in Downtown, D.C. was crowded, as was usual for a Saturday night after dark. It was one of the more high end clubs located downtown with first class dining and high class dancers. On either side of the u-shaped bar, which featured white marble countertops and velvet covered bar stools, were several circular stages for the dancers. The edge of the club was lined with high top tables and booths, leaving little space between them.

The walls were stark white which acted as the perfect backdrop to the dim yet colorful lighting, and high up towards the ceiling were large side by side windows. There were horseshoe shaped booths clad in red velvet in private VIP areas along with a loft overlooking the bar and dancers. The food and drinks were nothing less than gourmet. It wasn’t unusual for business meetings or financial deals to be conducted here alongside bachelor parties and wealthy men dodging their wives.

I wasn’t particularly proud of myself for this line of work, but it allowed me to make more money in three days than I would in an entire week and, with my busy class schedule, that’s exactly what I needed. I needed money and I needed to put as much time into my college degree as possible. That’s how I found myself here, at the gentleman’s club, for about a year now as the sparkling dancer known only as Honey.

There were a few low whistles and catcalls before the space around my stage became a little more crowded. I tried to ignore it when I saw men adjusting themselves in their chairs so they could get a better look at me. I spun myself around the pole as seductively as I could manage, using my hair to my advantage as I flipped it over my shoulder.

After my time slot was up, the bouncers, once again, helped me from the stage and I started to make my rounds. Once our time on the stage was finished, we became sort of like waitresses, walking around to offer drinks and a good time to the patrons. There were private stalls and rooms available for an extra good time at a premium price. Every dancer had a bouncer who circled the room with them, keeping a close eye to ensure that the patrons kept their hands to themselves unless they paid for the privilege.

I drug my hand across the chest of a few of the men sitting at the bar and winked as I leaned against the top of the bar.

“What are we drinking tonight, boys?” I purred and they all started grinning at me.

“What are you drinking, Honey?” One of them asked and I leaned against his side,

“Whatever you’re buying.” Even though I wouldn’t let myself drink whatever they ordered for me, I still played along in hopes of earning a few extra dollars.

And the night continued on like this until the end of my shift came at 2:00 AM. Back in the dressing room, I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and tugged a crop top over my bikini along with a thin sweatshirt before grabbing my bag and heading for the manager’s office. Just like every other night, I went to the wall of locked metal mailboxes in front of the office with the rest of the closing shift dancers.

Going to the one with my name on it, I pulled out my lanyard of keys and shook the smallest one out so I could unlock the box. Inside was a thick envelope with my pay for the night. I stuffed the envelope into an inside zipper pocket of my bag and swung it over my shoulder, heading for the back parking lot.

“See ya later, Honey.” One of the bouncers said after he walked me out to my car. For our safety, no one at the club, besides the hiring manager, knew our real names.

“Yep. Thanks for walking me out.” I smiled, unlocking my small blue car and slipping inside.

Once he heard the engine start up and the doors lock, the bouncer went back to the club to help more dancers out. It only took me about 20 minutes to make it to my small studio apartment in Columbia Heights, one of the sketchier D.C. neighborhoods.

My apartment was inside an average size white brick building with very little security. There was a code required to get into the front door and an attendant in the lobby, but they were off duty by the time I got in after work. Having lived in the city for about three years now, I was used to always being on edge and keeping my head on a swivel. I had taken self-defense classes when I first moved here just to feel a little bit safer.

I drug myself up the concrete steps, the apartment building not having an elevator, and listened as my stiletto heels echoed off the creepy stairwell. I hated the stairs here, it was the worst part of my entire trip home. I was grateful when I finally reached the third floor and practically pitched myself through the door. My apartment was about halfway down the hallway, not far from the stairwell.

Already having my keys in my hand, in case I needed to use them or the attached pepper spray keychain as a weapon, I separated the apartment key from the rest and unlocked my door. Once inside, and with the door securely locked behind me, I finally felt myself begin to relax.

I sighed loudly, dropping my bag and keys onto the kitchen counter. I always liked to change and shower quickly when I got home from the club as a way of cleansing myself of the night’s activities. Tonight was no different. I stripped out of my sweats and bikini, tossed them in the hamper, and got myself into the shower. There usually wasn’t enough hot water to go around in the apartment complex, but I was much more likely to get a decent hot shower at this hour so I took advantage of it.

A few minutes later, the water was already running cold so I hopped out and wrapped a fluffy towel around my curvy body. I wasn’t exactly your typical looking pole dancer. I wasn’t 5 foot 11 or super-model-skinny, but I was a blonde and a C cup. I had defined hips, thick thighs, and a well rounded bottom, all of which filled out my petite 5’3’’ frame very well.

I had just enough energy to dress myself in a pair of boyshort underwear and a sports bra before crawling into bed and passing out.

I couldn’t afford to sleep in on Sunday morning so my alarm woke me up before 8:00 AM. My shift at the club would start at 10:00 in the evening, but, before that, I had two essays and a powerpoint presentation to finish for my classes on Monday.

I was a sophomore at Georgetown University, studying child psychology and social working. Having gotten in on a fairly large academic scholarship, I couldn’t afford to ever let my grades slip below a B average. What my scholarship and financial aid grants didn’t cover, along with housing and living expenses, I alone was responsible for. Thus, the pole dancing.

Before I turned 21, I was a waitress but that required working nearly every single evening and night along with some clever scheduling of my classes. It was difficult and exhausting. Pole dancing may be below a certain pedigree level but it was much easier to deal with that shame than the jam packed schedule I had before.

I pulled the hand-me-down macbook that I was able to buy from a university yardsale out of my backpack along with some books, and got to work.

I was still knee deep in my general education classes, which were basically meaningless credits that made me relive the horrors of high school, and macroeconomics was my current headache. I had to write an essay on some topic that I didn’t care about and, quite frankly, didn’t understand. I grumbled and pulled out my phone, punching the contact of one of my classmates.

“Hey, Harlie, what’s up?” Toni’s face popped up on the iphone’s screen.

“Have you done this essay for econ yet?” I asked with a frustrated grumble. Toni started to laugh,

“Nah, haven’t even started it yet.” She shrugged.

“It’s due tomorrow.” I said,

“When do I ever turn in my shit on time? I’m just fixing to pass this class, survive it, you know?” Toni looked at something away from the screen, seeming to be distracted, “Ty’s here, you wanna talk to him?”

Ty was another student in our macroeconomics class but he, unlike most of us, was actually an econ major.

“Oh, God, yes.” I felt relieved. Toni just started laughing at me as the phone went blurry for a second.

“Hey, Harlie. Yeah, I did the essay yesterday.” He smirked at me.

I had to admit, if I was even remotely interested in having a romantic life, Ty would be someone I would go for. He was handsome with a crooked smile that was ridiculous and dimples that immediately set something in my stomach on fire. Toni mentioned all the time how cute we would look together, but I was way too busy already to deal with all that, too. I was a no strings attached type of gal.

Thankfully, Ty was a kind of enough guy that he didn’t seem bothered by how uninterested I was. Instead, he answered my questions and helped guide me down the right path for my essay. About thirty minutes later I was ready to finish up the call and my essay.

“Why don’t you come over later? The house is having a party.” Ty asked.

By the house he meant his fraternity. Normally, I wasn’t one to turn down an invite to a frat party, but, during the weekends, I was obviously previously engaged. Week nights, however, were fair game. Hey, I needed something to boost my ego and help me to survive my weekends of shame.

“I have plans tonight Ty, but thanks for all your help.” I quickly shut him down, waved goodbye to the screen, and hit the red button to end the call.

I had just enough time to finish up the economics essay and the powerpoint that was due for my ancient history class. Unfortunately, my English essay on The Scarlet Letter would have to wait until the wee hours after work. I cleaned up my school work and hurried off to get dressed, not wanting to be late.

Tonight I was wearing a bright blue sparkly bikini, similar to what I wore last night and every night, with matching high heels. I put on the same sweats and top as yesterday, and was out the door.

That night started off as any other night.

At around midnight, I was called to the stage and began my dance. For some reason, I was more on edge than usual. My heart was fluttering strangely in my chest and I felt nervous butterflies in the pit of my stomach like I used to feel when I first started. I had to keep discreetly rubbing my sweaty palms on my bikini so I wouldn’t slip off the pole.

That’s when I heard it.

There was some kind of commotion going on from the crowd on the loft, but I couldn’t really see thanks to the dizzying flashing colored lights. There was the sound of tables and chairs being shoved, screeching across the floor followed by what could only be described as the noises of a fight. A few seconds go by and then the commotion stopped, leaving only one word echoing in the club,

“Mate!”