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She hadn't been dancing for very long, only a couple of months. Dancing - that's what they called it - but what it really was was crawling around on a dark stage and spreading her legs for a bunch of horny degenerates. Her real name was, Michelle, but here on the Millennium Club stage, she was known as Sinnamon, that's heavy on the "sin", she would tell the customers whom she thought would be the biggest spenders. With long, cinnamon-colored hair and her love of that particular spice, it seemed like a natural name choice for a stripper.

She told herself she would only do it until she could get back on her feet. That, however, was taking a lot longer than it was supposed to. She didn't come to L.A. to strip for Christ's sake; she came to act - along with thousands of other gorgeous twenty-something women. She found it impossible to get back on her feet, though, as it seemed like there was always some fucking thing that would suck her bank account dry. Her car was a money pit; rent was too high, as were her student loan payments and credit card bills. Hard luck seemed to follow her around.

Her parents had begged and pleaded with her not to leave Iowa until she was financially stable but she felt like she needed to get her acting career rolling; waiting would only lessen her chances of making it and dreams wait for no one. Her pride kept her from asking them for money and because of that she was now spreading her shaved pussy in front of a group of disrespectful businessmen looking for any opportunity they could find to tongue her nipples or touch her in places that were off-limits.

She didn't want to work in an all-nude club, but the guy who owned both the Millennium and the topless club she first went to insisted that all his girls started at the all-nude Millennium and worked up to the topless one. His clubs had the reputation of being the safest in town and they were the only one's she could see herself working in so she reluctantly took the job. The sad reality was that nothing else came close to paying the kind of money she needed to survive and her rent was due in two days.

Just as her last song was ending and she was feeling happy to get away from the touchy-feely assholes in front of her, the big sweaty one stuck a fat, nasty finger into her pussy while handing her a dollar. Before anyone knew what had happened, she hauled off and cracked him in the nose. Blood spewed everywhere. Three beefy bouncers were there in a flash. Sinnamon scooted away from the edge of the stage on her bare ass before she leapt to her feet and screamed at him. "Touch me again and you're dead, motherfucker!"

The businessmen were stunned and confused. Their pal was in a rage and bleeding all over the place. He lunged for her. A bouncer lunged for him. She took a step forward and kicked him hard under the chin. A bouncer jumped onstage and carried her off. She was ready to fight and tried to escape the bouncer's grip. The businessmen tried to explain that she'd just gone psycho on them and they had done nothing wrong. Even though the bouncers had not witnessed the finger insertion, the men were shown the door anyway. The whole incident lasted less than a minute and peace was quickly restored. Vinny Jr., the club owner, jumped up on stage, apologized to the crowd then offered up a free lap dance with the girl of their choice to anyone who wanted one. The music started up again and a new dancer took the stage. Junior headed backstage breathing fire.

Sinnamon had calmed down a bit and was looking unsuccessfully for something to cover her naked body with by the time Junior stormed into the room. He had a reputation for being protective of his dancers. No one ever fucked with his girls in or out of his clubs. Everyone had heard the rumors of his background but no one dared ask him about it. He had been linked to some torsos that had washed up near the Long Beach harbor but no one could ever prove anything. He was an intimidating guy who could usually keep his cool but now he was just plain pissed. He tried to hold it back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said through clenched teeth.

"He stuck his finger in my..."

"I don't care! You don't assault the customers, you let a bouncer handle it!"

"Fuck that! He had it coming!" She instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say. The girls never talked back. No one wanted to see what would happen if they did. He got in her face; she turned away ready to cry.

"What was that?" he asked in disbelief.

The first tears came. "Nothing... I'm sorry," she said.

He grabbed her by the chin and turned her head back to face him. "I ought to fuckin' fire your ass for that shit!"

"Junior, please... you don't know how bad I need this job." The tears flowed.

He softened. "Hey, hey, don't do that," he said as he wiped some of her tears away. "It'll be fine. I'm sorry he touched you, but it happens sometimes. You just have to try to let the bouncers do their job."

"I know," she said.

"Now go freshen up and get back out there."

She looked at him and slowly shook her head. "I can't do this tonight, I need to go home."

He slowly shook his head in tandem with hers. "Sorry, but that's not an option. I'm five girls short as it is."


His voice rose again. "You heard me. Go freshen up, put on your little schoolgirl costume and get back out there. Don't make me tell you again." He headed for the door. "And the next time you go psycho like that, it'll be your last."


An hour later she was back on stage not at all into what she was doing. She was phoning it in and it showed. She couldn't wait for the night to end. Junior kept an eye on her. If she wasn't going to make an effort, he might have to have another chat with her.

When she finished her routine, she put her costume back on, took a seat at the bar and ordered a coke. After about five minutes, Junior walked up, leaned on the bar next to her and took a hard look at her. "Why aren't you working the room? Private dances are how we pay the bills around here."

She turned and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. It's part of the gig, you know that."

"I know," she sighed.

"I just sat a group of conventioneers in the Rumpus Room. I want you to put on a happy face and go in there and show them a good time."

She knew there was no choice; it was either do it or get fired. She slid off her chair, straightened out her schoolgirl costume and headed for the Rumpus Room.


There were already several girls in there when Sinnamon arrived. The group of guys in the back of the room was monopolizing them, though, and the ones near the door were being ignored. They tapped their toes to the pounding rock music, drank and talked amongst themselves but looked really bored. They were all dressed in slacks and polo shirts. They seemed nice but then again, so did the assholes at the stage earlier. She hadn't yet developed the radar that dancers have to spot that kind of thing.

She approached one of them from behind. His buddies saw her coming and started teasing him about how the hottest one was coming for him and he'd better get his billfold ready. She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You ready for a private dance?" she asked just before playfully biting his earlobe.

He turned his head and a look of horror crossed both of their faces. "Michelle?" he said with shock in his voice.

"Uncle Bill!" she said with an equal or more amount of shock.

He wasn't her real uncle; he was her father's best friend of thirty-five years whom she had always referred to as Uncle Bill and was actually closer to than her real uncles. Her heart sank into her gut. She was speechless.

He leapt to his feet. "Oh my God! What th... What are you doing here?"

"I... I..." She couldn't get anything out.

"What... why?" His buddies laughed their asses off when they realized what the situation was.

She was too embarrassed and horrified to do anything but run for the door. She ran smack into Junior who was just coming in to check on the party.

"What the fuck? Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he asked, more annoyed than ever.

"I told you I can't do this."

"You know what? I've had it with this shit." He grabbed her by the arm and forced her out of the room.

"Wait, let me explain," she pleaded.

Uncle Bill raced after them and caught them near the main stage. "Hold

on," he said. "I need to talk to her."

"Talking and dancing costs the same, pal. But you're out of luck; she's incapable of making money so I'm afraid she's out of here."

"Junior, please, I need this job," she said as she began to cry.

Uncle Bill flips out a hundred dollar bill. "Will this help?"

Junior laughs. "Not even close, she's cost me a lot of money tonight."

Uncle Bill ups his offer to five hundred. "How about this?"

"You're getting warmer."

Uncle Bill fans out ten one hundred dollar bills.

"Looks like you got yourself a girl," Junior said as he shoved Sinnamon at him. "Have fun."

She buried her head in Uncle Bill's chest and let the tears flow. He gently stroked her hair. "Shhhh... it's okay, it's okay," he said.

After a moment or two when she was done crying, he asked her if there was a place they could talk in private. "Only in the booths," she told him.

"Fine," he said. "Let's go."


They talked for an hour. He was kind and understanding so she told him everything. She told him how she was being sucked under financially, how she couldn't ask her parents for help and how degraded she felt working as a stripper. She swore to him and God that if her parents ever found out she would have to kill herself. He understood this would be the worst possible thing that could happen in her world. What she didn't know was that Uncle Bill and her father had a falling out over money and hadn't spoken in six months.

"Your secret's safe with me," he said.

She hugged him. He took pleasure in sniffing her long, soft hair. "Thank you," she whispered.

"On one condition," he whispered back.

This caught her by surprise. She pulled away and looked at him with confusion.

"What?" she asked, not sure what he meant exactly. He never was one for jokes. He had an odd look on his face, one she'd never seen before.

"Take off your clothes."


"You think I can afford to just piss away a thousand bucks to some greaseball? I need to get something for my money. You get naked and dance for me and I won't say a word."

She sat in stunned silence. This was not happening. Was he serious? "That's not funny, Bill."

"It wasn't meant to be," he said, dead serious. "Take them off."

She just looked at him with sad, disbelieving eyes.

He pulled out a cell phone and waved it at her. "Do it now or I call your folks."

She began to cry. He wasn't going to soften because of tears. He grabbed her face and squeezed around her mouth. "Well?" he asked.

"Okay," she squeaked.

He let go of her face and took a seat on the velvet bench. The tears continued to flow as she removed her schoolgirl outfit and her G-string. She had never felt more embarrassed or degraded. She felt like she could puke at any minute. She stood there naked in front of a man she used to think the world of. His gaze burned right through her. "Go ahead," he ordered.

She turned around so she didn't have to look at him and sat on his lap. She moved her ass in a circular motion. She could feel he was hard as a rock. She remembered back to when she was a little girl and how she used to sit on his lap while he innocently tickled her. It seemed so safe and back then. He fondled her tits and moaned as she continued to rub his cock. "Let me see that pussy," he said.

By now she was numb. The tears had stopped and she just went through the motions like she would for anyone else. She turned around and he immediately stuck his middle finger in her pussy. She knew there was no one she could complain to. She had made her bed and now she had to lie in it. She closed her eyes and somehow knew he'd want more.

She was right. After a few minutes of finger fucking her, he suddenly stopped. She turned around and saw that he had unfastened his pants and had pulled out his rock hard cock. "Put it in your mouth," he said.

The numbness she felt was giving way to anger. She grabbed his cock and stroked it for a moment, squeezing it harder the angrier she got. "Take it easy," he ordered. "Just suck it."

Sinnamon got down on her knees and tied her long hair back in a ponytail. She started to breathe quicker as she went down on him. She took him all in - all three-and-a-half inches. He let out a moan of pleasure and leaned way back in his chair. The pleasure was short-lived, however, as it soon turned to pain. She scraped her teeth up and down on the shaft until she drew blood. "What the fuck?" he said as he felt it. He looked down and saw blood dripping from her mouth.

Uncle Bill tried to sit up but that made her clamp down harder. He screamed out in pain and tried to take hold of her hair. She continued to gnaw on it. Blood squirted out everywhere. His screams had caught the attention of Junior and the bouncers. They came running but stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what was happening. "Holy shit!" one of the bouncers yelled. Junior quickly regained his senses and jumped to Uncle Bill's aid - or so he thought. He grabbed Sinnamon by the ponytail and yanked her back. Uncle Bill let out a scream. The head of his dick came off as easy as the tip of a banana. He doubled over, grabbed his headless member and tried to stop the bleeding all while screaming his lungs out. She rolled the head around in her mouth then spit it back at him. He screamed profanities at her. The bouncers went back to being stunned; one of them puked right there on the spot.

Sinnamon was flailing around like she'd gone insane. "Fuck you, motherfucker!" she screamed, blood dripping from her mouth all the way down her naked body.

The booths were isolated from the main stage area so Junior and several other

bouncers were able to steer everyone away from the area until they could resolve the situation. Sinnamon was escorted out a back door. Uncle Bill was carried to an Escalade after he was knocked out by Junior to shut him up. The music was so loud and thumping and the room so dark that no one heard or saw anything.


Four days later, a man fishing from the Hermosa Beach pier hauled in the catch of his life - the torso of a man with half a dick. The next day a family sailing their boat just outside of King Harbor at Redondo Beach was stunned when the boat hit something in the water. It was a naked woman's body with her wrists slashed. She had once been a gorgeous, smart and funny midwestern girl with cinnamon-colored hair named Michelle.
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