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thegirl20TITLE: Somewhere after midnight
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
the_girl_20
FANDOM: Glee
SUMMARY: Terri goes to a strip joint.
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: ~1800
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. They're Ryan Murphy's.
SPOILERS: Nothing explicit.
AUTHORS' NOTES: Written foranomalousalanna. Cuz it's her burfday.
Terri waits until the lights go down before taking her seat, just like she always does. She sits off to the side, in the shadows, as if that somehow lessens the sin. Like she’s not really here. Like she’s not really the same as the rest of the patrons; the baying, whistling mob. And she’s not. Like them, that is. She sits in silence and watches. She comes because this is the only way she knows how to deal with her desires. She always leaves money behind the bar for the girls.
She’s never denied this side of her sexuality. Not to herself, at least. She was a cheerleader, after all. She was no stranger to looking at girls’ bodies. She’s experimented a little in her time. But Lima, Ohio in the nineties was hardly a cosmopolitan oasis of acceptance and tolerance and there was no way Terri was setting herself up for a lifetime of struggle and judgment. So she suppressed anything that wasn’t accepted and became a perfect little wife.
When that crumbled around her, she sought out solace in places like this more often. Places that were so removed from her perfect, pristine marital home that she could almost forget she’d had that once. Maybe this is what she deserves. Dark rooms that smell of unwashed men and cheap cologne. She sighs when she realises that this is probably the high point of her week.
The first few dancers are uninspiring. Young girls, inexperienced and scared. It makes Terri feel uncomfortable. She thinks about leaving. She doesn’t do amateur night.
Then she appears.
She struts on with all the confidence of a rockstar and all the poise of a ballerina. She stops in the middle of the short runway, legs shoulder width apart. The room goes silent.
She’s dressed as a firefighter. Or, the stripper version of a firefighter at least. Tiny little skirt with suspenders over a black shirt. Knee high boots with impossibly high heels encase her legs. Blonde hair cascades down from underneath a helmet, her head is lowered so that her eyes are hidden. She’s carrying an axe and there’s a smudge of charcoal on her cheek.
‘Holding out for a hero’ blares out of the speakers and the crowd erupts. Slowly, her head comes up and she looks around the crowd, searching. She starts to walk, moving around the stage, stalking, owning the space. The helmet comes off and is kicked backstage. She swings the axe a couple of times, sliding her hand down shaft and back up again, eliciting moans and groans from the men crowding round the stage. Then it too is discarded as the music builds to a crescendo and she runs down the walkway, catching hold of the pole at the end as she passes and leaping onto it just as the chorus kicks in.
She works the pole like a pro, climbing it to allow herself to slide down. Hooking her knee around it to provide leverage as she spins around and around. This girl can perform. Terri finds herself sitting forward in her seat. She feels like she’s been watching this girl forever. She has a familiarity about her stage presence, a sense of being comfortable in this space. Terri feels her blood ignite in a way it hasn’t done in a long time.
The girl runs offstage to cries of disappointment, but reappears seconds later, dragging a hose. It’s a garden hose rather than a fire hose, but it’s red and when she threads it between her legs, grinding against it, Terri almost loses possession of her mind. The girl continues to stroke the hose, running her hand up and down, brushing her thumb over the tip. And then it spurts out water all over the guys in the front row. They whoop their approval as she hoses them down before throwing the hose away and moving to the end of the runway. She lets one suspender drop from her shoulder, then the other. Her hands move to the waistband of her skirt and she wiggles her hips, coaxing it down and stepping out of it, leaving herself in just a tiny thong and the shirt.
Terri expects the shirt to come off next, but without warning, the girl throws herself into a complicated routine of acrobatic dance moves, gaining excited applause as she once again lands centre stage. This time she does undo the buttons on her shirt, one at a time, slowly, slowly. The song is nearly over and Terri finds herself longing to see more of this girl. She knows there’ll be a clamour once she’s finished so she gets up and makes her way to the bar, watching the stage all the while.
“I want a private dance with her,” she says, slapping a bill on the bar.
The bartender laughs. “Get in line, sweetie,” he says. “I had people reserving private dances with her as soon as I opened the doors tonight.”
“I’ll pay double what they paid to skip to the front of the line,” she says, not looking at him, still fixated on the show.
The blonde executes one final move, wrapping both legs around the pole and letting herself hang upside down just as the final note of the song rings out. The lights die and the crowd goes crazy. The lights come back up and the girl has retrieved her helmet, holding it out to collect her tips as she moves around the stage.
“Done.” He palms the second bill she puts down and slips it into his back pocket. “Go around back, second door on the left. She’ll be right in.”
---
Terri sits on the solitary chair in the room, her hands under her thighs to stop herself from biting her nails. She rarely does the one-on-one stuff. It’s too much, too personal. It’s harder to walk away and pretend she doesn’t care about not having someone.
She doesn’t have much time to contemplate the situation because before she knows it, the blonde enters, pulling her suspenders back into place. Terri looks up, and the girl’s face lights up in recognition.
“Oh! Hey Mrs Schue!”
Whatever Terri was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.
“Yo…I…huh?”
It’s not the most elegant of utterances, but it’s all she can muster. The girl bites her lip.
“I’m sorry. You’re old so I guess you forget stuff a lot…I’m Brittany.” She’s talking as if she’s speaking to a particularly slow child. “You gave me drugs once when you were the school nurse?”
Terri closes her eyes, wondering how the hell she ended up in the backroom of a strip joint with one of her ex-husband’s former students. She opens them to find Brittany smiling brightly. She tries to smile back.
“…Brittany,” she says, as if she’s trying to remember. She gave drugs to a lot of kids that week. “You were friendly with Quinn, right?”
Quinn’s is the only name she remembers from that period so she hopes she’s not too far off the mark. Brittany’s smile grows wider, if possible, so she assumes she got it right.
“That’s right! And you were trying to get Quinn to give you her baby!”
Somehow, it doesn’t sound insulting coming from this girl. She makes it sound like any other event from the past; like she’s talking about how they all went on a picnic together one time. All Terri can do is nod. It is accurate after all.
“So did you ever manage to have a baby of your own?” Brittany asks, conversationally.
“I…no,” Terri says. “No, I didn’t.”
“That’s sad,” Brittany says, her mouth turning down at the sides. “You’re pretty hot so you’d have a good one.”
Terri laughs sadly. “Thanks. I think.”
Brittany nods, turning to walk over to the iPod dock. “So, you wanna start? I have all kinds of music. You can choose.”
Terri scrunches up her brow. They can’t do this now. Not now that they’ve established a connection.
“How old are you, sweetie?” she asks, trying to work it out in her head. She’s been away from Will for five years so she’s guessing early twenties.
“Oh, I’m totally legal, it’s okay,” Brittany says, flicking through the songs.
“No, that’s not what I…” Terri begins. “Is this your job?” She has visions of this poor kid stripping to make ends meet.
“No, I have a dance studio. I teach dance. I make good money,” Brittany says, finally settling on a song. “Is this okay?”
It’s ‘Hot for Teacher’ by Van Halen and Terri suppresses a groan. She gets up and walks over to Brittany, pressing pause.
“If you don’t need the money then why…”
The girl shrugs.
“It’s fun,” she says, simply.
Terri smiles, shaking her head at her own preconceived ideas about these girls and how they live.
“Well…good,” she says with a nod. “It’s great that you get to do something that you enjoy.”
“Plus it makes my girlfriend really jealous to know that I’m out here doing this and we have really hot sex when I get home cuz she wants to make sure I know I’m hers.”
Terri has no response to that. “Okay, I think I should probably go.”
Brittany actually looks a little hurt.
“Oh…okay,” she says. “You don’t have to…I like to dance for people.”
Terri stretches up and kisses Brittany’s cheek.
“I know, I saw you out there. You’re amazing. And I’m pretty sure there’s a line around the block after me so I think you’ll be okay for people to dance for,” Terri says. “But this doesn’t feel right.”
“Because of Mr Schue?” Brittany asks.
“Yeah…a little…” Terri says. “I guess I just feel weird about watching you dance when I know that my ex-husband graded your papers or something.”
Brittany nods. “I get that,” she says. “Well, bye I guess. I hope you get a baby soon!”
Terri can’t help but smile along with Brittany.
“Thanks sweetie,” Terri says, picking up her purse and moving to leave, but she stops when Brittany speaks again.
“He was sadder…after you broke up.”
Terri turns back around, slowly.
“He was?”
“Yeah. And kinda weird. But always sad. Even when he finally got Ms Pillsbury to leave her hot husband, he was sad. And still weird.”
Terri tilts her head and smiles. She’s not above admitting that knowing that he was sad makes her feel good.
“Thanks. Enjoy your night, sweetie.”
“I will,” Brittany says, happy to have made Terri smile. “You too. Bye Mrs Schue!”
“Bye Brittany.”
And she leaves wearing a smile, and without the shameful sadness that usually weighs on her when she leaves one of these places. She feels lighter, maybe a little happier. Like maybe she could do find something that she enjoyed doing for a living. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get that hero she’d been holding out for.
AUTHOR:
the_girl_20FANDOM: Glee
SUMMARY: Terri goes to a strip joint.
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: ~1800
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. They're Ryan Murphy's.
SPOILERS: Nothing explicit.
AUTHORS' NOTES: Written for
anomalousalanna. Cuz it's her burfday.Terri waits until the lights go down before taking her seat, just like she always does. She sits off to the side, in the shadows, as if that somehow lessens the sin. Like she’s not really here. Like she’s not really the same as the rest of the patrons; the baying, whistling mob. And she’s not. Like them, that is. She sits in silence and watches. She comes because this is the only way she knows how to deal with her desires. She always leaves money behind the bar for the girls.
She’s never denied this side of her sexuality. Not to herself, at least. She was a cheerleader, after all. She was no stranger to looking at girls’ bodies. She’s experimented a little in her time. But Lima, Ohio in the nineties was hardly a cosmopolitan oasis of acceptance and tolerance and there was no way Terri was setting herself up for a lifetime of struggle and judgment. So she suppressed anything that wasn’t accepted and became a perfect little wife.
When that crumbled around her, she sought out solace in places like this more often. Places that were so removed from her perfect, pristine marital home that she could almost forget she’d had that once. Maybe this is what she deserves. Dark rooms that smell of unwashed men and cheap cologne. She sighs when she realises that this is probably the high point of her week.
The first few dancers are uninspiring. Young girls, inexperienced and scared. It makes Terri feel uncomfortable. She thinks about leaving. She doesn’t do amateur night.
Then she appears.
She struts on with all the confidence of a rockstar and all the poise of a ballerina. She stops in the middle of the short runway, legs shoulder width apart. The room goes silent.
She’s dressed as a firefighter. Or, the stripper version of a firefighter at least. Tiny little skirt with suspenders over a black shirt. Knee high boots with impossibly high heels encase her legs. Blonde hair cascades down from underneath a helmet, her head is lowered so that her eyes are hidden. She’s carrying an axe and there’s a smudge of charcoal on her cheek.
‘Holding out for a hero’ blares out of the speakers and the crowd erupts. Slowly, her head comes up and she looks around the crowd, searching. She starts to walk, moving around the stage, stalking, owning the space. The helmet comes off and is kicked backstage. She swings the axe a couple of times, sliding her hand down shaft and back up again, eliciting moans and groans from the men crowding round the stage. Then it too is discarded as the music builds to a crescendo and she runs down the walkway, catching hold of the pole at the end as she passes and leaping onto it just as the chorus kicks in.
She works the pole like a pro, climbing it to allow herself to slide down. Hooking her knee around it to provide leverage as she spins around and around. This girl can perform. Terri finds herself sitting forward in her seat. She feels like she’s been watching this girl forever. She has a familiarity about her stage presence, a sense of being comfortable in this space. Terri feels her blood ignite in a way it hasn’t done in a long time.
The girl runs offstage to cries of disappointment, but reappears seconds later, dragging a hose. It’s a garden hose rather than a fire hose, but it’s red and when she threads it between her legs, grinding against it, Terri almost loses possession of her mind. The girl continues to stroke the hose, running her hand up and down, brushing her thumb over the tip. And then it spurts out water all over the guys in the front row. They whoop their approval as she hoses them down before throwing the hose away and moving to the end of the runway. She lets one suspender drop from her shoulder, then the other. Her hands move to the waistband of her skirt and she wiggles her hips, coaxing it down and stepping out of it, leaving herself in just a tiny thong and the shirt.
Terri expects the shirt to come off next, but without warning, the girl throws herself into a complicated routine of acrobatic dance moves, gaining excited applause as she once again lands centre stage. This time she does undo the buttons on her shirt, one at a time, slowly, slowly. The song is nearly over and Terri finds herself longing to see more of this girl. She knows there’ll be a clamour once she’s finished so she gets up and makes her way to the bar, watching the stage all the while.
“I want a private dance with her,” she says, slapping a bill on the bar.
The bartender laughs. “Get in line, sweetie,” he says. “I had people reserving private dances with her as soon as I opened the doors tonight.”
“I’ll pay double what they paid to skip to the front of the line,” she says, not looking at him, still fixated on the show.
The blonde executes one final move, wrapping both legs around the pole and letting herself hang upside down just as the final note of the song rings out. The lights die and the crowd goes crazy. The lights come back up and the girl has retrieved her helmet, holding it out to collect her tips as she moves around the stage.
“Done.” He palms the second bill she puts down and slips it into his back pocket. “Go around back, second door on the left. She’ll be right in.”
---
Terri sits on the solitary chair in the room, her hands under her thighs to stop herself from biting her nails. She rarely does the one-on-one stuff. It’s too much, too personal. It’s harder to walk away and pretend she doesn’t care about not having someone.
She doesn’t have much time to contemplate the situation because before she knows it, the blonde enters, pulling her suspenders back into place. Terri looks up, and the girl’s face lights up in recognition.
“Oh! Hey Mrs Schue!”
Whatever Terri was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.
“Yo…I…huh?”
It’s not the most elegant of utterances, but it’s all she can muster. The girl bites her lip.
“I’m sorry. You’re old so I guess you forget stuff a lot…I’m Brittany.” She’s talking as if she’s speaking to a particularly slow child. “You gave me drugs once when you were the school nurse?”
Terri closes her eyes, wondering how the hell she ended up in the backroom of a strip joint with one of her ex-husband’s former students. She opens them to find Brittany smiling brightly. She tries to smile back.
“…Brittany,” she says, as if she’s trying to remember. She gave drugs to a lot of kids that week. “You were friendly with Quinn, right?”
Quinn’s is the only name she remembers from that period so she hopes she’s not too far off the mark. Brittany’s smile grows wider, if possible, so she assumes she got it right.
“That’s right! And you were trying to get Quinn to give you her baby!”
Somehow, it doesn’t sound insulting coming from this girl. She makes it sound like any other event from the past; like she’s talking about how they all went on a picnic together one time. All Terri can do is nod. It is accurate after all.
“So did you ever manage to have a baby of your own?” Brittany asks, conversationally.
“I…no,” Terri says. “No, I didn’t.”
“That’s sad,” Brittany says, her mouth turning down at the sides. “You’re pretty hot so you’d have a good one.”
Terri laughs sadly. “Thanks. I think.”
Brittany nods, turning to walk over to the iPod dock. “So, you wanna start? I have all kinds of music. You can choose.”
Terri scrunches up her brow. They can’t do this now. Not now that they’ve established a connection.
“How old are you, sweetie?” she asks, trying to work it out in her head. She’s been away from Will for five years so she’s guessing early twenties.
“Oh, I’m totally legal, it’s okay,” Brittany says, flicking through the songs.
“No, that’s not what I…” Terri begins. “Is this your job?” She has visions of this poor kid stripping to make ends meet.
“No, I have a dance studio. I teach dance. I make good money,” Brittany says, finally settling on a song. “Is this okay?”
It’s ‘Hot for Teacher’ by Van Halen and Terri suppresses a groan. She gets up and walks over to Brittany, pressing pause.
“If you don’t need the money then why…”
The girl shrugs.
“It’s fun,” she says, simply.
Terri smiles, shaking her head at her own preconceived ideas about these girls and how they live.
“Well…good,” she says with a nod. “It’s great that you get to do something that you enjoy.”
“Plus it makes my girlfriend really jealous to know that I’m out here doing this and we have really hot sex when I get home cuz she wants to make sure I know I’m hers.”
Terri has no response to that. “Okay, I think I should probably go.”
Brittany actually looks a little hurt.
“Oh…okay,” she says. “You don’t have to…I like to dance for people.”
Terri stretches up and kisses Brittany’s cheek.
“I know, I saw you out there. You’re amazing. And I’m pretty sure there’s a line around the block after me so I think you’ll be okay for people to dance for,” Terri says. “But this doesn’t feel right.”
“Because of Mr Schue?” Brittany asks.
“Yeah…a little…” Terri says. “I guess I just feel weird about watching you dance when I know that my ex-husband graded your papers or something.”
Brittany nods. “I get that,” she says. “Well, bye I guess. I hope you get a baby soon!”
Terri can’t help but smile along with Brittany.
“Thanks sweetie,” Terri says, picking up her purse and moving to leave, but she stops when Brittany speaks again.
“He was sadder…after you broke up.”
Terri turns back around, slowly.
“He was?”
“Yeah. And kinda weird. But always sad. Even when he finally got Ms Pillsbury to leave her hot husband, he was sad. And still weird.”
Terri tilts her head and smiles. She’s not above admitting that knowing that he was sad makes her feel good.
“Thanks. Enjoy your night, sweetie.”
“I will,” Brittany says, happy to have made Terri smile. “You too. Bye Mrs Schue!”
“Bye Brittany.”
And she leaves wearing a smile, and without the shameful sadness that usually weighs on her when she leaves one of these places. She feels lighter, maybe a little happier. Like maybe she could do find something that she enjoyed doing for a living. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get that hero she’d been holding out for.