She relaxes minutely, pursing her l

She relaxes minutely, pursing her lips as she looks down at me. “Most of the girls here do it. It’s an easy way to make a shit-ton of money. If you want in, just talk to Bobby.” And with that, she turns and walks away, the sound of her heels growing dim as she leaves the changing area.
My eyes wander down to my feet, to the ugly red splotches that I know will turn into big blisters tomorrow. I busted my ass tonight, and I only made seventy-five bucks.
According to Stripperella, I can make more in five minutes with my mouth.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not tempted. Five minutes of work on my knees sounds a helluva lot easier than eight hours on my feet with those god-awful heels. And I’m already giving it away for free. Why not get paid for something I’m just going to do anyway?
I mull it around in my head and the more it churns, the less sour it tastes. I can put myself through school with that money. . .
For the first time in two years, college seems attainable and not just a pipe dream. Hope blossoms in my chest, unfurling rapidly as I quickly try to squash it and smother it deep within me. Hope’s a dangerous thing. Let it get out of control and it gives you ideas and dreams—things that will inevitably crush you when they don’t happen.
After changing into my street clothes, I relock my locker and head out of the changing area, toward the side exit located on the far side of the stage.
Management doesn’t want us to leave through the front when we leave after our shifts. Seeing us in regular clothes “ruins the fantasy” for the customers.
Everything is so dark in the narrow landing behind the stage. The floor and walls are painted black, and the long “wall” to my right is nothing more than a thick, black velvet curtain. The music is so loud on the other side of the soft material that I don’t hear the moaning until it’s too late.
I freeze as the exit door comes into view, in the little sliver of pulsing light spilling out from the stage. Pressed up against the wall next to the door is a good-looking man, mid-to-late twenties, who’s shocked as hell to see me. Because kneeling in front of him is Stripperella, her head bobbing back and forth as she sucks him off.
Shock glues my feet in place as my mouth hangs open. His blue eyes sparkle in the glittery stage lights as they remain locked on me, his lips slightly parted. I’m about to turn away and head back the way I came when he comes. His features twist in pleasure as his fingers knot in her hair, almost painfully, it seems. 
His eyes never leave mine.
Oh, God, he’s getting off on me watching.
My stomach roils. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
How did I end up here? Where did I go wrong in life to end up in this exact moment? Better yet, where am I going to end up if things don’t change?
Then it just clicks.
I don’t belong here. I’m . . . I’m better than this. I never thought little ol’ me, the girl who’d gotten dealt a shit hand in life, would ever be too good for anything, but in this instance, it’s true. 
I’m too good to end up working on my knees or my back, and I’ll be damned if I end up a coked-up stripper blowing some yuppie asshole for a hundred bucks. My dignity is worth more than that. I’m worth more than that.
In a moment of absolute clarity, I turn and walk in the other direction. Back through the changing area I go, through the main floor, to the lobby, where I walk out the front doors because I straight-up don’t give a shit anymore. I’m never coming back here-not to this club or this girl I've become.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

Dia teliti, melemaskan mengerucutkan bibirnya saat ia terlihat pada saya. "Sebagian besar perempuan di sini melakukannya. Ini adalah cara mudah untuk membuat kotoran-ton uang. Jika Anda ingin, hanya berbicara dengan Bobby." Dan dengan itu, dia berubah dan berjalan pergi, suara belakangnya tumbuh remang-remang saat meninggalkan daerah berubah.Mataku berjalan ke kaki saya, untuk bercak-bercak merah jelek yang aku tahu akan berubah menjadi lepuh besar besok. Saya bangkrut pantat saya malam ini, dan aku hanya membuat tujuh puluh lima dolar.Menurut Stripperella, saya dapat membuat lebih dalam lima menit dengan mulut saya.Aku akan berbohong kalau aku bilang aku tidak tergoda. Lima menit dari bekerja pada suara lutut saya banyak jauh lebih mudah daripada delapan jam di kakiku dengan tumit mereka god-awful. Dan aku sudah berikan itu gratis. Mengapa tidak dibayar untuk sesuatu yang saya hanya akan melakukan pula?Saya memperkusut itu sekitar di kepala saya dan yang lebih bergolak, kurang asam rasanya. Saya dapat menempatkan diri melalui sekolah dengan uang...Untuk pertama kalinya dalam dua tahun, perguruan tinggi tampaknya dicapai dan bukan hanya sebuah pipa mimpi. Bunga harapan dalam dadaku, unfurling dengan cepat saat aku dengan cepat mencoba untuk squash itu dan memadamkan mendalam dalam diriku. Harapan itu hal yang berbahaya. Biarkan keluar dari kontrol dan memberikan ide-ide dan mimpi — hal-hal yang pasti akan menghancurkan Anda ketika mereka tidak terjadi.Setelah berubah menjadi pakaian saya jalan, aku relock saya locker dan kepala dari daerah berubah, menuju pintu keluar sisi yang terletak di sisi jauh dari panggung.Manajemen tidak ingin kami meninggalkan melalui depan ketika kita pergi setelah perubahan kami. Melihat kami dalam pakaian biasa "reruntuhan fantasi" bagi pelanggan.Semuanya begitu gelap di mendarat sempit di belakang panggung. Lantai dan dinding dicat hitam, dan panjang "dinding" ke kanan adalah tidak lebih dari sebuah tirai beludru, tebal hitam. Musik begitu keras di sisi lain dari bahan yang lembut bahwa aku tidak mendengar mengerang sampai terlambat.Aku membeku seperti pintu keluar datang ke tampilan, di sepotong kecil berdenyut cahaya tumpah keluar dari panggung. Ditekan ke dinding di pintu adalah pria tampan, pertengahan hingga akhir dua puluhan, yang terkejut sekali melihat saya. Karena berlutut di depan dia adalah Stripperella, nya angguk kepala bolak-balik seperti dia mengisap dia.Shock perekat kakiku di tempat seperti mulutku Hang terbuka. Matanya biru berkilau di lampu panggung berkilauan mereka tetap terkunci pada saya, bibir sedikit berpisah. Aku akan berpaling dan cara saya datang ketika ia datang kembali. Fitur nya memutar dalam kenikmatan sebagai nya jari simpul di rambutnya, hampir menyakitkan, tampaknya. Matanya pernah meninggalkan saya.Oh, Allah, dia mendapatkan pada saya menonton.Roils perut saya. Aku merasa seperti aku akan menjadi sakit.Bagaimana aku akhirnya di sini? Mana aku pergi salah dalam hidup berakhir di saat yang tepat ini? Lebih baik lagi, mana aku akan berakhir jika hal-hal yang tidak berubah?Kemudian hanya klik.I don’t belong here. I’m . . . I’m better than this. I never thought little ol’ me, the girl who’d gotten dealt a shit hand in life, would ever be too good for anything, but in this instance, it’s true. I’m too good to end up working on my knees or my back, and I’ll be damned if I end up a coked-up stripper blowing some yuppie asshole for a hundred bucks. My dignity is worth more than that. I’m worth more than that.In a moment of absolute clarity, I turn and walk in the other direction. Back through the changing area I go, through the main floor, to the lobby, where I walk out the front doors because I straight-up don’t give a shit anymore. I’m never coming back here-not to this club or this girl I've become.