Her body was the body of a woman who had used it as a working instrument for years.
And it carried the evidence of that.
For a brief moment she considered the word humiliation.
It surfaced in her mind quietly.
She did not say it aloud.
Humiliation was a response she could not afford.
What mattered was continuing to exist.
For now, that was the only objective.
She turned back around.
And began to move.
The pole was cool beneath her palms, a familiar surface, a point of reference in a room that otherwise belonged entirely to him.
Her body found the rhythm through habit rather than thought.
She moved across the pole slowly, turning and lowering herself with the controlled precision that had taken years to learn. Her muscles remembered the balance, the timing, the small adjustments that made the movement appear effortless.
For several moments she remained within the circle of light.
Then she stepped away from the platform.
And walked toward him.
