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The bass of the music echoed around the club as if to trap the people in it with its sound of heavy oompf-oompf overlayed with a rap verse that consisted entirely of cuss words and a detailed description of women shaking their buttocks. Women clad in stringy bikinis and opaque teddies tramped up and down the walkway, some finding a seat on laps of leery men and some convincing over-eager twenty-something year olds to celebrate their bachelor party in the club's most costly, private VIP rooms. Podiums with erect poles were set up as strippers with the grace of gymnasts slid up and down displaying parlor tricks to the men and an occasional couple stopping by to enjoy the show.

Amidst the adulterous pandemonium, a singular club worker donned in nothing but a lacy bra and thong and thigh-high boots stood awkwardly against the bar clinging to a half full bottle of beer. Although she had taken on the name 'Wildcat' as her club alias, her demeanor and appearance suggested she was nothing but. Men's gaze skipped over her as they searched for suitable companions for the night. Granted, since she had her first child, she had stopped paying attention to her features, letting her ginger curls grow out to a frizz, lack of skincare and post-partum hormones causing breakouts on her face and the growth of a pooch, resembling a fanny pack extruding over the front of her G-string. But even before her pregnancy and younger years, she had never experienced the attention of males as her peers have. She had stood by and watched as her classmates got picked off by pubescent boys for Valentines' Day and formals, when her mother paraded around the house with multiple boyfriends before finally settling on her step-father, as her best friend came to her with boy problems and getting ready for dates.

"You still think you're cut for this job, hon?" Timmy, the bartender quipped behind her, "it's 12 am, peak hour and you've been standing there since opening."

Wildcat turned to face the aging, flamboyant man. "I'm trying," she said, sheepishly, "it's just not my night."

"Honey, this entire month hasn't been your night." He paused as if carefully choosing his words. "If this keeps up, the boss might let you go," he said gently.

Wildcat felt a surge of annoyance. He was one to talk. Timmy in his 40s with visible wrinkles and crow's feet, trying to distract people from them by wearing eyeliner, sagging breasts protruding behind his constricting wifebeater. Who was he to judge her? Who was he to offer her remarks?

But at the end of the night, even plain old Timmy would go home to his partner of ten years, cuddle under the sheets until his partner wakes up for his office job and kiss him goodbye. He still enjoyed the luxuries of affection, intimacy and romance.

Timmy watched as Wildcat's facial expressions turned helpless.

"Here." He placed two shot glasses on the bar in front of her and poured Grey Goose into them. "Liquid confidence. Finish that beer and these, let them work their magic and go work!"

Wildcat gave him a smile of appreciation before chugging her drinks. She turned back to the club and scanned its horizons for a viable target.

The shots burned through her insides but gave her the incentive to go up to a lone boy who looked as though he had just turned 18 gawking at the club's sought after stripper, 'Aphrodite', who was having her turn at the poles.

"Hey there mister," she purred seductively, or tried to, tapping on his shoulder. "You look like you want some company."

Reluctantly, he pried his eyes off 'Aphrodite'. Wildcat tried to ignore the disappointment in his face when he saw her.

"U-um," he stuttered, "N-no tha-"

"50 for a lap dance," she cut through before he got the chance, "40 because you're so handsome. What about it? I'll give you something you'll never forget."

The boy looked at a loss for words. He looked as if he was considering her offer but not because he wanted to. She almost felt sorry for him at that moment.

The moment dissipated quickly when a group of frat boys threw themselves on him, laughing. "Bro, guess what?" one of them slurred distastefully, "I got you 'Aphrodite', she's the goddess of love. And she really wants to show you some love at the back." He made lewd gestures with his fist and his tongue poking behind his cheek. "Happy birthday, virgin!" He caught a glimpse of Wildcat, standing in front of them. "Don't bother with this one. I got you something better!"

He swung his arm around the boy's shoulder pulling him to the direction of the private rooms trailing after Aphrodite.

Exasperated, Wildcat turned her attention to the rest of the crowd. It's okay, she told herself, it's just one customer. There's a whole lot more.

Her eyes settled on a much older man, who looked like he was the same age as her step-father, drinking his beer alone at a table. She plastered on the fakest smile she could muster and stomped over to him.

"Hiya, handsome," she greeted and plopped herself on the chair next to him. "You wanna know why they call me Wildcat-"

"Sorry darl," he cut in, "Got a missus back home. Only here for the boys, don't mean to waste your time." He tipped his bottle to a group of graying men three feet away flocked around a dancer grinding her crotch on one of them.

"Oh, okay.." She slinked away, defeated. She hesitantly made her way back to Timmy who raised his eyebrows questionably at her.

"I don't think the drinks worked that much," she explained, looking down.

"Girl," Timmy sighed, "I need you to hear some cold hard truth."

"It's been a month since you joined us. As much as I love you and your company, the only thing the boss cares about is how much money each of us is bringing in. Now I'm not sure why you chose this profession, I do know there's a little one at home you're providing for. But so are half the girls here."

He swung his arms at the dancers nearby. "We do what we need to do to take care of the people we love. I say this because," he lowered his voice, "the boss might have mentioned you, 'the new girl', not bringing in any money at all from customers despite the wage he's paying you. Girl, if you're not cut for this, you might have to explore other jobs."

Wildcat felt her heart rate pulse.

"Can you pour me a shot?" she asked, quietly.

He looked at her deeply before succumbing to her request.

She downed the shot straight away.

"Another please."

Timmy complied. She emptied its contents.

"Another."

He poured the drink. She drank it.

"Another."

"Michelle-" Timmy started.

"That's not my name!" she blurted, "It's Wildcat! Wildcat. Another shot please, bartender!"

Timmy sighs. "How much more do you want? Let's get this over with, I've got customers to serve, unlike some people."

"Five! There! Is that so fucking hard? All you do is pour drinks." Wildcat was seething. Timmy lined up the drinks and stormed to the other end of the bar.

"You're forty, working at a strip club!" she yelled after him. Several customers turned to see the commotion but averted their attention back to the dancers immediately. Wildcat wondered why she was unable to capture men's attention like other women could. She was not the best looking but she wasn't ugly either, just a little below average. She had witnessed girls much more homely get married to loving husbands.

She finished the drinks Timmy had lined up for her.

It's that bastard, Gerome's fault, she said to herself. Selfish prick saying I took advantage of him while he was wasted, saying he'd never do that to my mom, saying our baby's not his?

He's the reason I have to resort to this, she told herself. I had no other choice, acting like he didn't even want me in the first place.

She stumbled shakingly over to a group of men who already had girls on their laps. They stopped and looked at her startled.

"Hey cuties," she slurred, "I bet I can show you a better time than these bitches."

One of the dancers looked at her with disgust. "Michelle, are you drunk?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She turned to a customer walking by next to her, throwing her arms around him.

"You want to take me to a room, baby?" she pursed her lips, leaning to kiss him.

"Woah woah," he interjected, laughing uncomfortably. He pushed her head back lightly, "I think I'll pass."

She took a few steps back, fazed.

"Why not?" she screeched at him, "WHY NOT?"

"This bitch is crazy," she heard him mutter as he disappeared off.

She spun around to customers staring at her.

They're looking, she thought gleefully, they're finally looking at me.

"Which one of you boys want to take me to the rooms?" she yelled. She watched as some of them shake their heads with disapproval, others started laughing and chuckling to their friends.

Boys only want one thing, her mother had told her when she had come back from school one morning bawling her eyes out when her life-long crush had rejected her. She had heeded that advice, walked into Gerome, her step-dad's room while he was barely conscious to give him what he wanted, what all men wanted.

She unclasped her bra and pulled down her thong. Several of the girls gasped at the new improvement. She could make out Timmy's face in between the crowd.

"Get security," she heard him mumble to a dancer nearby.

Boys only want one thing, don't they, mommy? Then you cut me off for doing exactly that?

"Come get me, boys," she juggled her breasts between her hands. "Free of charge! I'm free!"

"Okay, little lady, that's enough," a voice came from behind her. A burly man grabbed her arm. "Time to go home."

She pulled her arm back to slap him but missed and fell to her knees.

"They call me Wildcat, 'cause I'm wild!" she exclaimed, still on the ground, waving her arms above her head.

She felt an arm around her waist, pulling her up. The security groaned under his breath, realizing her weight. Regardless, he began pulling her away.

"No, stop!" she screamed, kicking her legs up as she was dragged towards the exit, "they want me! They want me!"

She was still screaming as the customers looked on her being removed.

"They want me! I'm free!"

"I'M FREE!"