Together We Burn

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏

PHEONIX 

Let me lay down some truth. There is no such thing as a dirty job or a shameful action. Because this world is so filthy that the distinction of good and evil is skewed to the point it all blends together. That makes me think of the term sacrifice in the more tragic sense. If you sacrificed many lives to save the world, you are a hero because you saved the world, not a villain for killing innocent people in the process and destroying everything in your path.

Heros, and Villains, Princesses, and Evil Queens, children, and the monster hiding underneath their bed or in their closet. There's a conflict and one person who causes all of the evil in the story, and then there's the hero who brings on the resolution. It's unrealistic. It's laughable to think that anything you do while on this miserable Earth has a purpose. You are another stain to the existence, something that can be wiped away with a fucking Clorox wipe.

I was walking down the hallway, and the clicking of my heels fell on deaf ears, club lights set in a red tone covered every surface. Music pounded in my ears, and drunk men and women walked past me. I was to dance for a private party with another girl that works at the club walking behind me. I was wearing white scraps of clothing that left little of my body unexposed.

I had only two drinks tonight to make the shift bearable, and I had to tell myself it was for the money. Anyone would do anything for the money this job gives. The girl behind me was the new girl finally reclaiming my previous title, but I could still be considered a baby stripper.

Finally, we made it past the private rooms where individual dances are given and to the red rooms. You know when you have made it to the red rooms because the floor is no longer hard but now covered in a velvet red carpet that is surprisingly clean.

It was the VIP rooms where touching wasn't strictly prohibited, only more loose with the rules, but boundaries were put in place with the dancers. No touching intimate places, tugging off clothing, only discreet touching on the face, or gripping someone's hips. We could allow only things we were comfortable with, and if something happens that we are uncomfortable with, the patrons will be escorted out.

After walking the hall, squeezing past several people, we make it to the end door, one of the nicest VIP rooms we have. The girl behind me, seeming eager probably knowing something I don't since she was known to be a part of the gossip more, knocks sharply on the door twice. The door opens in acceptance by a bodyguard who acknowledged us and opened the door further for us to walk in.

The finery in this room was more than anything I had ever experienced. Suits, expensive liquor, cigars, greedy men, and jewelry could put me through college twice over. It was disgusting me making my stomach stir in circles and make me want to bleed every last one of these men dry.

Envy is something I felt more often than not, and I'm not afraid to admit it. Like I said previously, nothing is dirty or wrong, meaning nothing is off-limits for you to do or feel. The girls who were dancing previously hopped off the platforms, where the poles were, and off men's laps who made lame attempts to convince them to be their companion for the rest of the night. 

The girl and I separated and split off into two paths, each taking a separate platform. The song changed quickly, and we both danced on the pole or the floor. All of it was graceful and calculated, each using more muscles than we might have thought possible.

Throughout my dancing, I felt eyes on me, making me feel even nuder than I was. I turn around on the pole and to see who was staring at me but was caught up in three different sets of eyes. My hands were gripping the pole above me, and my hips were swaying to the beat.

What I liked about this club was being the center of attention. I was a star here, someone who was no one. It was beautiful as life was ever going to get for me, as glorious life would let me experience, and the only feeling of special I could consume and bury in my mind of feelings to comb through later.

Strands of my hair were sticking to my face, my face was flushed, but you couldn't tell under the lights. I slide down the pole, still gripping above me and bending my knees. Once I had gone down, so my ass was hovering over the cold floor, I spread my knees, exposing myself even further. I watched as each man who was now the center of my attention gasp for an intake of breath.

I reveled in my effect, how I was the sole reason they breathed or didn't. Suddenly cold water was doused on me when someone reached me from behind on the circle platform, their strong arms wrapping around me and pulling me into their lap. I felt the returning sense of filth and worthlessness wash over me like a cold hand greeting me back home when their hands started to pry at my knees, tearing them apart.

When their hands bruised my inner thighs before cupping my center with their hand trying to pry me open like a hidden treasure, I squirmed and fought, not having realized when I started shouting.

I felt a pair of hands pull me from the grasp of the man and welcomed the warmth of another. I was shaking, having been caught by surprise, and the adrenaline that ran through me was too intense to handle appropriately.

I heard the shouting of the man who snatched me off the stage l and the rustle of seats—someone telling him to escort him out away from me and don't let him leave. I was pulled back from the man only slightly.

I was amazed by the man standing in front of me. He had tattoos etched on every inch of his available skin. He had piercings in his ears and one in his nose. But what surprised me the most was how gentle he was, although looking intimidating.

Now that I looked more closely, he looks kind of nerdy. He had a set of clear glasses and a charming, comforting smile, probably trying to reassure me. I watched as he took off his black suit jacket and swung it over my shoulders, pulling the opening of the jacket closed to cover more of my skin. I couldn't help that my eye caught on the silver rings on every one of his fingers. He had pale skin and onyx black hair that was styled back from his face. 

I was appreciative of him closing the jacket because there is a big difference between allowing other people to see you so bare and being picked apart by people who now scrutinized me for the scene I just made. I was in no state to continue dancing for the moment, and I was about to thank the man and walk out before he firmly grabbed my shoulders, turned me around, and lead me out.

A/N Thank you for those reading this story, and please bear with me on this. I think I bit off more than I could chew with all the stories I started fml.

1296 Words