Chapter 4: Singled Out

In the following week, Justin kept to his word of making things difficult for me. Not only had he assigned the ninety-page reading assignment and a term paper, but he threw out questions purposely trying to trip me up.

"So, Katerina, what does analytical jurisprudence aim to do?"

My heart began to pound and my palms were sweating. Though I'd already read what was assigned, that topic hadn’t been covered yet.

"It aims to reject natural law..." I began, then trailed off. If only I'd had my laptop open. I snapped my fingers against my thigh, trying to remember. It was only once that I'd skimmed the document and read about it.

My mind drew a blank. I should have known that he would be trying to trip me up after his threats in the office, but I didn't prepare enough. But that wouldn't be what happened from now on.

As a result of his barrage and need to humiliate me, I spent many hours in the library preparing long ahead of the syllabus, and in some cases, doing extra study that was outside of what he was asking. The next time class came around, I'd be prepared.

"So, Katerina, what can you tell me about Hart's book The Concept of Law?"

Feeling confident, I began to rattle off facts.

"Hart's book was published in 1961, and one of his most famous works. It represents his concept of legal positivism, which attempts to separate morality and law."

"And what does 'legal positivism' mean?"

"It's the idea that law is not connected to any moral standard. Instead, Hart wanted to introduce a theory of analytical jurisprudence and descriptive sociology."

"And the difference between primary and secondary rules?"

"Primary rule seeks to govern conduct while secondary allows alteration, creation and even extinction of primary rules."

He glanced at me then down at the text he had in his hand.

"What is your interpretation of it?"

I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms, feeling perplexed.

"Professor, law doesn't leave much to interpretation. That's why it requires people to be English majors when they move onto higher levels of law."

"So, you can't think critically? That's straight out of the book," he said, his tone flat. "You've only proven you're good at memorizing articles and parroting them back."

My heart was racing now, and I had to speak up. Heaving an exhale, I continued.

"With all due respect, professor Lowell, laws and defense cases are built upon past research and articles often citing–"

"Do not interrupt me, Katerina," he said, shooting me a cold look. I felt the weight of fifty pairs of eyes on me as I fought to stay calm. I knew it was best to just stay quiet, but it made me squirm.

As he moved on, my stomach was in knots. First, he said he was going to deduct from my grade for every answer I gave that was incorrect. Now, he was telling me I was wrong when giving the right answer, but because I wasn't independently thinking about it enough.

This was ridiculous and an unfair system where the rules were constantly changing. If he was a law professor and such a legal guru, he wasn't sticking to his word very well. What kind of example was he setting for me and the rest of the students, other than to purposely make things impossible to succeed at?

After that class where he asked me about Hart's book, I was furious. I swore I would find a way to expose him. He might be able to hide behind his high status at the LLP, but I knew who he was. And soon I'd find a way for everyone else to as well.

But I had to play the long game for that one to succeed. I had other immediate concerns to think about. It was Friday and I wouldn't need to see him until next week, plus it was time to switch gears - I had to get to work at the club. My shift was starting soon.

With fervor in my heart, I swore I'd burn off some steam by dancing my best tonight. I'd not only break some hearts but earn some big cash. Whenever I was particularly passionate, I found myself swaying in more tantalizing, confident ways.

Sighing, I packed my bag, then I noticed Elodie turn to me.

"Sheesh, that was a tough class. Wanna come to a party and forget about all of that? You could branch out and meet some new people. There will be plenty of hot guys there." She elbowed me with an amused smile. Her big brown eyes were filled with hope as she tied her auburn hair up into a ponytail.

"I'd love to, but I already made plans."

As I threw my bag over my shoulder, I tried to ignore Elodie's pouting face. Though I wanted to hang out and be a real freshman with her, I had my priorities, and one burned ever more brightly in my mind. To make my own money and to never rely on Justin.

As I left the school, I walked down far enough to where the city street intersected. Hailing a cab, I entered and told them to take me to the club. I'd have to freshen up once I got there, but I had time.

Tonight, when I walked through the doors, the air conditioning was already blasting and the place was saturated with a hundred types of cologne. It was filled with plenty of guests, the rotating lights fluttering over them and the stage.

Fridays were one of our busiest nights, with people ranging from eighteen all the way to their seventies. I watched as a woman in a pink bob wig leaned forward, allowing another guest to light her cigarette. She glanced at me hungrily and I wasn't even in my attire yet.

Out back, I found a new set of lingerie hanging at my station, most likely from Mr. Lee. He must have been grateful about me deciding to continue working. I held it out in my palms, my long red nails tracing the threads. It was a lot better than the one-piece neon and black outfit I'd worn when I sat with him at the bar the last time we spoke.

He must have taken notice.

The crimson embroidery circled around the top of the bra, thicker than the rest of the black material. I checked the size on the back. He even got that right - 34C. I dressed up in the outfit, tugging the matching thong and thigh highs on. Slipping into my shiny black stilettos with red tips on the toes, I finally pulled on a barely-there one-piece dress.

As I turned around in the mirror, my firm ass hugged the material of the thong, with the skirt flowing around me. I shook my hips to see just how much would cover me as I moved. Since I had to walk the regular customer section as a cocktail waitress before I went on, I wanted to know what the guests would be seeing.

Smiling at the way the outfit made my body look, I picked up my final piece. An animal mask. It was the theme for tonight. As I looked in the mirror, I slid on the red fox face, playing with the whiskers. They felt soft against my fingers. Once the strap was perfectly adjusted, I stood and went to the floor.

Adrian, the bartender, handed me my cocktail tray.

"Justice, you better get over to the tall tables. We've had a few guys waiting there and now that Zelda is on stage, they're getting restless."

"Sure thing," I said to Adrian, coyly tilting my head to the side. He flashed me a flirtatious smile and set several glasses of scotch on the tray. Even though he couldn't see me smiling, he felt it in my relaxed body language. I was beginning to like this mask.

It made me feel freer that I couldn’t be recognized.

Once midnight was approaching, it was time for me to take the stage. After selecting my music, I exited the side door and stepped up the stairs. As soon as I felt the soft light blue lights hit my skin, I went from Katerina the student to Justice the dancer.

As everyone watched me, I sauntered up to the pole, then slowly began to stroke it. My nails ticked against it, and then I beckoned to them. The men leaned forward as I pressed my breasts to the pole, hugging it snugly between them. Up and down, I slid, hoping they imagined themselves between my tits.

Slowly, I rose back then stroked the pole again, nuzzling it like a cat would. I began to gyrate against the pole, then slowly crouch down so everyone could see how tightly my thong was hugging between my legs. My left strap naturally dropped after that movement.

As I made the rounds, I stroked my body, slowly allowing the dress to drop at my feet. I kicked it up in the air, with one man reflexively snatching it. He began to smell it lustfully and tossed me some money. Walking closer to the guy beside him, I poked my fingers underneath my bra's underwire, with two fingers, pinching my nipples.

The man gawked as they poked out under the black and red material, looking hard enough to cut glass. He beckoned and stuffed some money into the middle of my bra, taking advantage of the chance to caress my plump cleavage. One of the bouncers eyed the guest, then me. I ever so slightly shook my head, meaning, it was just once. Anything more and the guy would be tossed out.

Moving my way over to the other customers, I felt an extra sashay in my movement, the disguise making me even less inhibited than I'd felt in my past performances. The money I collected had to be over one hundred dollars thus far, and I hadn't even removed my top yet.

When I made my way over to the front of the catwalk, a man sat there with a confident grin, which soon turned into a ravenous stare. His eyes were eating every inch of me alive. I bent over in front of him, with one hand touching my ass, clawing it with my red nails and the other touching the floor. Slowly, I inched my fingers to my thong, and he eagerly stuffed the money into it.

He stroked my ass once, his fingers lingering as he inserted the money along the seam. I didn't mind this sort of interaction, especially since it was getting me more money. Six years ago, if someone told me I'd be in this position I would’ve laughed in their face, but now, I not only accepted it, but I enjoyed my job.

The attention was intoxicating at times, and if I could make a lonely man feel ignited for the seven minutes I was up here, then that didn't hurt either.

But most of all, in doing this, I never had to ask Justin for the money from my inheritance. And that was reason enough to do this indefinitely.

Just as I was about to do some floor work, I watched the woman in the pink bob wig, turn around, exhaling from her cigarette. Since I had locked eyes with her, I thought she was happy for another chance to have me close, but her attention was drawn elsewhere.

In fact, only seconds later, everyone at the club turned around and began staring at the door. The music was the only sound, the bass thumping from the speakers every so often, but all action had stopped. Even the clinking of glasses and laughter from the floor had ceased.

Something had drastically changed the atmosphere.

I had to stand to see who had come in. From my vantage point, I finally realized what was going on. A well-known group that was from a made family had walked through the door, AKA the mafia.

Instantly, guests scrambled from their tables to allow the men to sit, and several people decided to leave completely. The gang walked in, scanning the club as the door swung open and shut behind them.

Watching to see how this played out, I happened upon a few of their faces. When my eyes settled on one, my heart jumped in my throat. There, among the group of gangsters, I couldn’t believe who it was. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was Justin Lowell.