𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 ❦
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐃
The Velvet Room; one of New York's largest underground clubs where women are forbidden fruit. No touch, just stare has a whole different meaning.
Reyna Lovelace is the brand new toy at...
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Warning: mentions of sexual trauma
I've always thought about how I've changed over the course of seven, almost eight months. From the moment I was hired, to right now.
How have I changed?
In highschool, I focused on my grades. I had this big dream of going to college and graduating with some fancy degree, even though I had no idea what I wanted to do. Even in my first few years I didn't, so I just picked medicine. My parents highly encouraged me to.
When I turned eighteen, my friends took me to a pole dancing studio, and of course being of age I didn't tell my parents. When I went, I just thought it would be funny.
One of them actually was a stripper and taught me a few basics.
Growing up you don't think being a stripper, or a dancer, it just kind of happens.
Up until age twenty, I'd say my life was pretty dull. It was on repeat. Wake up, go to school, study, and go back to bed. But every once in awhile I'd go with my friend to that studio. I practiced more and more, worked out more and more to build my core strength.
As those two years flew by, I got better and better until finally, I got better than the instructors.
I got my first job as a stripper at twenty one, juat to pick up the extra money and I was at the right age to do so. I stayed for about 3-4 months, until I looked for another one because there was too many douches there.
Upon finding The Velvet Room, it was perfect. The rules were strict and there were no exceptions. They were either followed or your put on the list for the brothers to take care of. Not to mention, I didn't have to strip. Just dance in skimpy clothing and give a lap dance every so often.
Those six months were amazing, I felt like I was doing something I loved, my passion maybe even. It felt like I was made to be on that pole. To worship it.
Until I met him.
________________
My first thought when I opened my eyes?
- Oh no.
No, no, no!
I knew the bed I laid in well, the comforting sheets and blue duvets that I could probably die in. The scent that drove me wild yet was clenched onto every belongong of the brothers.
I pretty much jumped out of bed, but my hangover was quick to catch up with me.
My head felt like it had been slammed against the concrete over and over, my headache radiating over the entire vacenity of my head.
I groaned, rolling over in the bed and burying my face in the softness of the pillow below me. My eyes closed, swueezing shut and trying to tone out the loud drumming of my head. I'm never drinking again.
