Have you ever had to dance on the stage of a nightclub? Few people would say “yes” to that question. And a couple of months ago, I would have been on the side of the majority. Now I have to spin around the pole, hiding the mask of a decent girl with a wig, a mask, and a cat-woman suit. But that isn’t all my problems. One special client watches every one of my performances—his indifferent gaze makes my blood boil. No matter how hard I try to listen to the voice of reason, the temptation to provoke him into emotion is just too great.