Craved (Twisted Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

significance, even when no dancers are in action.
    My sisters have left already. I am still here, staring at myself. I try to convince my inner mess to match the picture I see in the mirror: my smoky eyes with long, flirtatious eyelashes, and the light-pink lips that bring out the glowing blue of my eyes. My long straight hair, which I highlighted just before we left Ukraine, is pumped up in a few places with a zigzag iron. It looks volumized and funky. I decided on black hotpants and a silver see-through top that ties up below my black push-up bra – which has nothing to push up but definitely helps to make my boyish chest more feminine. Although the costume is slightly worn out it’s comfortable, and reveals my perfectly flat tummy, shapely legs and firm thighs. And it will look just fine in the darkness of the club. The twenty-centimeter-heel shoes I bought back in Luxembourg make the whole look work, bringing Barbie from the toyshop shelf to life. It neither gives nor takes – it’s slutty, but not cheap.
    ‘I look amazing and I will tear apart whoever gets in my way tonight,’ I repeat in my head like a mantra, and take a deep breath. As I slowly breathe out, the panic fights its way back and my heart gets lost in my stomach again...
    Oh my God! I am going to faint!
    ‘Nervous?’
    One of the girls with curly, long, blond hair says without looking at me, adding a thick layer of red lipstick to her puffy lips. ‘Have you worked before?’
    I wring my hands and nod. ‘In Luxembourg and Turkey.’
    The girl tilts her head back and loud, but genuine and pleasant, laughter forces its way out, flashing her white perfect teeth. ‘What’s your name?’ She is still cackling when she asks.
    ‘Julia,’ I say, waiting for some sort of explanation for her sudden amusement.
    ‘Nice to meet you, Julia. I am Nikita.’
    She turns away from the mirror and looks at me. ‘Well, Julia, you mustn’t worry. This is a playground in comparison. All you need to do is walk around with a smile. Just don’t sit with the clients, unless they pay you for it. It’s not like drinking in Europe, when we had to hatch them like chicks for hours. The movement is the key.’ She smiles and walks out.
    ‘Thanks,’ I mumble after her.
    I take another deep breath and walk out. The place is dark and I wait first for my eyes to adjust. The shivers chain my body right away. The air-cons and my nerves, like accomplices, conspire against me. One more deep breath, drawing the familiar fusion of sweet and sticky perfumes and cigarette fumes.
    This place is no different from where I’ve worked before. I can do it.
    I see my sisters at the bar and head towards them.
    ‘Wow, there are at least a hundred girls.’ Lena looks around.
    As Natalia opens her mouth to comment, the loud voice of the DJ through the speakers makes all three of us shrug. ‘Hello everyone.’ I check my watch, it’s 7 p.m. sharp.
    ‘Stella on stage. Stella on stage,’ he calls with a quieter voice, then turns the music up, walks out of the DJ booth and heads towards us.
    ‘There is not even one client and he’s calling the girls onto the stage already. That’s what I call discipline,’ Natalia wisecracks.
    ‘The new arrivals?’ The man is very tall and very skinny. ‘How are you, girls? My name is Jeff. I am a DJ.’ He gives us a full smile and shakes our hands. His genuine friendliness seems inappropriate for the sex industry’s usual tough image. ‘Come with me. We need to straighten a few things out.’ He turns around and we follow him.
    The DJ booth is a small, dark room that is built on a meter-high square podium, its only window looking at the stage with a massive turntable under it.
    ‘All I need from you is to listen to what I say into the mic.’ He doesn’t look at us, pressing one earphone between his head and shoulder while moving one of the numerous dials on the turntable.
    ‘Every two songs, a new girl comes onto the stage. If the place is