author – activist – faculty – mom
For full novel description, see About Aya’s novel-in-progress:
After Jody got thrown out of her conservative Midwestern house, she met up with her girlfriend AnnaLee and caught a bus to New York City. Fuck their little town. They never belonged there, anyway. They were gonna be city girls. Go somewhere that nobody cared who you loved and be happy.
They made it to Manhattan and got jobs in a strip club. Jody was a little disappointed to find out that teasing a bunch of creepy losers was the only thing they could do that would pay the rent. AnnaLee had dance training, so she danced while Jody was a hostess. You could make so much more dancing, AnnaLee said, and she started to teach Jody the moves. Jody was a little stiff at first. Gyrating was really different from softball. And the booty drop was not a move she’d ever used in soccer. Still, Jody had the strength, flexibility, and coordination to pick it up. Eventually, the pair of girls would dance on stage together, their sexual chemistry mistaken as something for the men in the audience. The girls’ occasional clandestine wink or grin at each other made the nights pass more quickly.
Ironically, it was AnnaLee that found another job first.
“As a receptionist at a fashion magazine!” she gushed. AnnaLee had always been excited about fashion. Jody had never really loved anything but sports. And the only route to any kind of career was through high school and then college. Now that was shot, she wasn’t sure what to do. Stripping paid the bills. Or most of the bills. She made a lot more than her girlfriend did with just above minimum wage, but Jody didn’t mind. AnnaLee was following her dream. It was enough for Jody to be in New York and to be with AnnaLee.
But soon she worked nights and AnnaLee worked days. And they saw less of each other, and one day she stopped by AnnaLee’s job to surpise her, and Jody caught a look between AnnaLee and her boss. AnnaLee hadn’t seen her yet. Nobody else would have noticed. But it was just the kind of look that the two of them had given each other onstage. Nobody else knows that we’re together.
That night they had a huge fight.
“Are you fucking him?!” Jody demanded. “While I’m out dropping my ass for a bunch of dicks to pay more than half our bills? Are you?”
“Yes!” AnnaLee had screamed. “Yes, I’m fucking him. I’m fucking him and I’m gonna get a promotion, and the company is gonna pay for me to go to the Fashion Institute. Why are you so upset? It’s just like when we were stripping. We talked about maybe fucking guys for money. It’s just work. It has nothing to do with our relationship.”
“Okay fine,” Jody said coldly. “Tell him you have a girlfriend. Tell him you want to do a three-way. Guys love that shit.”
“I don’t think so—” AnnaLee began.
“You fucking liar!” Jody yelled. “If it was just work, you would have talked to me first. You would be all for the three way. But it’s not just work. Whatever you’re doing with this asshole it’s more than just sleeping your way up.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” AnnaLee said. “I just know I don’t want to be stuck in some dead end job in this city. I want more, Jody.”
“Fuck you, AnnaLee,” Jody said, and grabbed her stuff to go to work.
That night at the strip club, Jody vibrated with rage. Most of the men didn’t like it, didn’t dare come close to her. But some of the men ate it up, begged her to come back for lap dance after lap dance. When they went to put tips in her g-string, she would hiss at them: “make it a twenty.”
They would comply without fail, turned on by the aura of danger and the six-foot blonde with the hardbody.
After the show, a lovely older transgender woman came up to her backstage. “I’ll pay you twice what you make here, honey.” She spoke in a husky voice. “You’re fabulous. The Ice Princess I’ve been looking for.”
“What do you want me to do?” Jody asked, cynical and bitter. She didn’t want anyone to bother her. She wanted to go to the bar and get drunk, but she still wasn’t even twenty-one.
Jody was not looking forward to going back to the apartment. Would AnnaLee be there? Would she have moved out? Would she beg forgiveness? Would the place just be empty and Jody would have to wonder if she was with him.
“It’s all on the card, sweetheart,” the older woman said. “Give me a call if you’re interested.”
And she walked out, leaving a cloud of Chanel perfume in her wake.
Jody looked at the card. “Dahlia’s House of Domination – Only come if you’ve been bad.”
Jody called that night.
Beating rich guys was a great job for her, especially at first. AnnaLee did move out, and Jody had a lot of anger to express. AnnaLee didn’t say if she’d moved in with the boss guy or what. She and Jody stopped speaking. Jody made friends at the new place. Met more queer folks. Slept with a few girls. Nobody special.
After about six months, she started getting pain in the shoulder of her whipping arm. Dahlia sent her to the María de la Vega clinic for chiropractic care. Turned out she had a repetitive strain injury. She was whipping in too stressful of a manner. She had to quit her domme job, but was able to get free treatment.
During the months while she was getting chiropractic adjustments twice a week, Marisol noticed her. She had just gotten a request for a blonde Amazon type escort, and didn’t have anyone who fit the bill.
Discreetly, she approached Jody, and found out that yes, she was newly twenty-one, broke, and interested.