All Eyes on You (Sparrowluvr2 & WolvenRouge)

Amelia Davenport really hated her job. Having guys drool on her was not something she wanted for her life. She was meant for great things and then her father went and fucked it all up. He used to be a Stockmarket Broker and now he's in jail and her mother- a kind woman- died from the stress from it all. Well, the stress that made her drive her and her daughter into a tree and high speeds. She survived with only a few bruises. Amelia had been dancing from an early age but did Julliard care about her talent? Nope, they didn't want to be attached with her father's stigma. She tried to find a job dancing everywhere. Broadway, Las Vegas, and everywhere she could think of. She was over qualified for every position and yet she couldn't even get a choirs member job. When she was younger she had agents after her and even was in a few movies and commercials. Nothing now. That's how she winded up in this shit whole.

Here, she was Angel. She mostly did bartending, but her boss saw her potential. If he made her into an icon then she could get twice the amount of the other girls in one night. Her red curls were pinned up under a blonde wig that hung around her shoulders. She didn't want anyone to recognize her. When she was announced she stepped out onto the stage- standing with her back to the crowd- and undid the tie on her gold robe. She let is silver down to the floor. She stood in the strobe lights in a leather and lace bra and panty. She wore what they liked to call hooker heels with them. The men cheered as they saw their favorite dancer take the stage.

The lights pulsated around her as the fast beat music started. She turned around slowly, striking a pose before she rushed up to the pole. If you hadn't been watching carefully, you wouldn't have noticed the artistry or the strength she had to make her moves look effortless. Her dance was fast beat and it showed off all her curves. She didn't use all her moves but the ones all the boys liked to see. As the routine finished she crawled to the edge of the stage and let the men stick the bills in her bra and panties.

She climbed off the stage and started pulling the money out as she made her way over to the bar. She gave a small sigh. Most of the bills were ones or fives. She was never going to be able to get out of this hell hole. She went into the dressing room to lock up her money and checked her wig and makeup before coming back out with a sheer slip over what she was wearing earlier. She could make more money giving lap dances. She wove her way through the crowd, looking for someone who could afford to pay her to dance for them privately.

Ricardo had learned to dance in Europe and South America where ballroom dancing had been popular for decades. It was a highly competitive and merciless business. If you weren't good enough you were relegated to Aurthur Murry studios teaching dance for for ten or at best twenty dollars an hour. The best made good money and lived well. Best of all, if you loved to dance it was a good job doing what you loved, and the luckiest ones danced with their lovers. The margin between complete success and abject failure was razor thin. Ricardo Martine was one of the winners. Though he didn't have a steady partner, he was in demand and was constantly pursued by beautiful fit young dancers who needed that winning male to show case their talents. The women were the key to winning, but they were relatively plentiful. Great male dancers were few and far between and therefore in great demand. Ricardo had been in New York for 6 weeks, and before returning to the Brazilian dance circuit his buddy Armando had invited him to a bachelor party. Ricardo was luke-warm on attending at a strip club, he relented and showed up at the Aurora that night. He watched three girls "dance" if you could call it that. Then the headliner Angel was scheduled to dance. He was fairly sure that no-one realized what they were seeing. The girl was trained and she knew what she was doing. What was she doing here. When she crawled forward he wrapped a note in a fifty dollar bill and stuck it in her bra and the left. It simply said "I know you can dance. Call me Ricardo , Martine Studios 123-456-7890.

He did n'y wait around for the lap dancing, he got out of that hell hole as quickly as possible. He hoped that "Angel" would too.

No one in the crowd at Aurora would afford a private dance from her, let alone a simle lap dance. She returned to the dressing room. No need to stay there for the rest of the night if there was no one who could afford her. She was sorting through her money when she found a note tucked inside a fifty dollar bill. She rolled her eyes. 'Thanks for the tip but that's not going to make me call you scumbag.' she thought to herself, about to crush the note with Ricardo's number in her hand. But then she read the note. She picked up her cell phone and dialed the number left for her. Did this guy want something or was it possible he was actually going to help her?

She waited for the call to continue to whoever it was. Who was this Ricardo? She chewed her lip with impatience.

Ricardo went straight home from the party. As he got into the confines of his Porche 911, the heavy smell of tobacco smoke hit him, he would need to have his suit cleaned, and take a shower. That was just one more reason he wished he had never gone to that tacky place. It made him wonder again how someone who was classically trained ever ended up in such a place. It made him sad all over again. He had learned his love of dance from his mother, who though she had great skill, had no money and couldn't afford formal training, so the thought that someone would undergo such training and then simply throw it away was inconceivable, and terribly sad.
He bagged his stinking suit for the cleaners, and got in the shower. He was just out of the shower, and toweling his fit muscular frame when his phone began to buzz against the granite bathroom countertop. Picking up the phone he stared at the number. It was not one he recognized, but it wasn't 1-800 something, so he answered. "Martine Studios, Ricardo speaking, how may I help you. "

Amelia pursed her lips, listening to the man pick up the phone. She hesitated. Was this just one big joke? She took a breathe and rummaged up some courage. "This is Angel." She said as calmly as she could. "I believe you left me a note..." She trailed off. She didn't want to accuse him or anything like that. If he truly thought he saw something in her and this wasn't a big scam, he could tell her himself. She fidgeted on her seat, wondering what he would say. Was he just going to try and get in her pants? Afterall, a lot of guys tried to do that.

It was because of this club that she never bothered to date anymore. She lost faith in that whole true love thing. She saw the seedy underbelly of how men worked. She knew there was no prince charming for her.

"Well honestly I did, but I doubted you would actually call, but I'm glad you did. I just wanted to tell you that you are too good a dancer to work the Aurora, and I wanted you to come try out to dance Ballroom. This isn't a scam and you won't be alone. If you are interested come to the studio tomorrow at 9:30 am. Bring a leotard and a knee length skirt. Meet Miss Chalmers and she will get you ready. I'll be there at 10:00. I hope you are there. The address is 120 Lincoln Center, a block from Juliard, I'm sure you can find it. See you then. Good Bye."
Just as quickly as he had answered, he was gone.

Ricardo smiled at the thought that she might actually show up, and got dressed. The he called Julie Chalmers, his assistant and told her what to expect the next morning.

From what Amelia could tell, Ricardo was very to the point. He didn't give any room for questions or objections. She sighed, putting her phone down. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and took off her blonde wig. She put it on a wig head and put a pin in the top to keep it there. She sighed softly, pulling the string that held up her hair. She shook out her loose curls. Would she go tomorrow? She didn't even know. She left that night to go back to her small apartment. She still didn't know if she should do this.

The next morning, Amelia found herself standing in front of 120 Lincoln Center. "This is bad idea." She said softly to herself, pushing the door open and going inside. She looked around, unsure where to find Ms. Chalmers. She made her way to the front desk. "I'm looking for Ms. Chalmers." She told the ones there.

She wore the leotard and a knee length shirt under a loose sweater. She kept her jacket tight around her. She wore flats but had also brought her dancing shoes.

"Miss Chalmers will be right out" the receptionist said. "please have a seat". A few minutes later a 40 something woman as fit as most 20 year-olds greeted the young woman. "So you are the young woman my nephew spoke of. Come this way." she walked her down the hall to a dressing room and had her stand on a box. She took a few measurements, and told her to put on her dancing shoes. " Ricardo will meet you in the studio. Right through those doors." She opened the door for her.