Eliza didn't beat around the bush. "Lydia, I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Lydia gave Eliza a once-over, then stepped aside. "Come in, let's chat."

Eliza laid out her predicament.

It took Lydia a moment to absorb the news. Eliza had always been the top student and the pride of their town. She had even gotten into the most prestigious university with flying colors. "Are you... in trouble?"

Eliza nodded, her every move heavy with worry. "I owe someone money, so I came to... ask for a job."

"You don't have a job?" Lydia was taken aback.

"I do, but I was thinking of working evenings... like a part-time gig. Can you help me out?" Eliza bit her lip.

She'd heard Lydia was now the top manager and could probably find a spot for someone without much hassle. It just depended on whether Lydia was willing to help.

Lydia lit a cigarette, her piercing eyes never leaving Eliza. "You can't handle this job."

Eliza had been talented from a young age. In college, she even taught herself jazz and folk dance. "I can

about..." Lydia lit her cigarette, took a long drag, and blew out the smoke slowly, her brow furrowed. "...this place is

can't adapt. It's only environments that challenge us. I

never been more

eighteen. She knew that a woman wouldn't come to a place like this unless she was truly desperate.

Eliza nodded. "I'm sure."

you away. But Eliza, you need to understand that this job may pay well but comes with a price. ffa client touches or kisses you,

upfront about

was seen as the lowest rung of society, looked down upon, and despised. In the eyes of men, dancers were mere playthings devoid of dignity and value. Their

my limit." That was Eliza's

then. I'll take you in. Come by this weekend, and I'll personally teach you some rules and techniques. You start work on Monday

I'll be

Eliza was

of the Design

Welton International, a dedicated

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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