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After our drink we made out in the park, next to a group of elders line-dancing to a dusty boom box. We faced away and got freaky. To the tune of Cher, he stuck his head under my T-shirt and gnawed on my nipples. Kids called us names from the playground. We didn’t care. It was after dark and the la…

It wasn’t his wife I envied most, sleepy in slacks, but his taciturn daughter. She was bored, taut, and concupiscent.

I tried different ways to spend my money—online gambling, shopping sprees—but it all felt a bit forced. I didn’t want or need more clothes; the only places I ever went, besides the club, were Trader Joe’s and the YMCA pool. I didn’t need knee-high boots or complicated athleisurewear to shop for chi…

Experienced dancers knew what to say. They could sweetly shame a college boy into, at the very least, subscribing to their OnlyFans. This is no ordinary bar, they’d say with a wink. They’d indicate their breasts, foaming out of a bustier. Do you like what you see? Yes? Then show me!

I envied the…

He wasn’t wrong: ever since I’d started dancing, I couldn’t shake the smell of the club from my hair. The other girls didn’t seem to have this problem, they drifted around in clouds of patchouli and Victoria’s Secret Love Spell, edged with tequila and jojoba oil. I, on the other hand, reeked of cig…