Rebook

Memoir, 2026

“Would you like a drink?” the man at the bar asks me. He’s wearing a pale blue button-down shirt and trousers. He smiles at me shyly, holding his credit card between his thumb and his index finger.

“Sure. A gin and tonic please,” I say.

He orders two gin and tonics, one for me, and one for him. The bartender nods and turns away to grab the bottle of Hendrick’s.

“I’m Dale,” he says, holding out his other hand.

“Nice to meet you, Dale,” I say, shaking it. “What brings you in here tonight?”

“I was feeling a bit bored in my hotel room,” he says.

He hands his credit card to the bartender. She taps it against the EFTPOS machine.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” I say.

He nods. The bartender finishes making the drinks and places them on the counter in front of us. One with a straw, one without.

He picks up his drink, takes a sip, and sighs.

“Shall we?” he asks, motioning towards the lap room.

“Sure,” I say.

We walk down the steps to the room at the back of the club. It’s only 11pm, and the area has only just started to get busy. A few dancers are already sitting on laps, their lingerie on the floor.

“Half an hour, please,” he says to the girl sitting behind the desk. She takes the payment and tells him to sit wherever he likes.

He picks a booth at the back of the room. I take my bodysuit off. We talk, we laugh. We finish our drinks and order more. He books me for another half hour.

“Your time is up again,” the controller says, walking over to us. “Would you like to rebook?”

“No, I should go,” he says.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yes, I have a flight in the morning.”

I watch him walk away, slouching as he walks up the steps, out of the club and back onto Albert Street. Back to his hotel.

I make my way around the club, looking for my next customer. The only two people sitting alone tell me that no, they don’t want to book me. I step into the change room and eat a muesli bar.

When I walk onto the floor again, the man from earlier is standing at a table, his gaze flicking around the club.

“I thought you went home,” I say.

“I did. But I had to come back,” he says.

He lifts his hand and places it in front of his chest.

“The thing is, you healed something in here. I needed that,” he says.

I’ve only been dancing for a year, and this is the first time I see it properly. That this isn’t just getting naked and dancing for men. It’s something else, too. Something deeper than what most people will ever know.

“I just wanted someone to talk to. I don’t think you could ever understand how much you helped me,” he says.

He pulls out his credit card and points towards the lap room. His eyes water as he smiles at me.