Filthy Little Games

Ch. 4: The Little Birds

EMERY

The neon lights outside the club cast an ethereal glow onto the sidewalk. My heart beats faster as I stand there, my eyes fixed on the entrance. Lux. What the— I double check the address. No, this isn't right. This is the wrong— I look for my cab but it's already gone. I glance back at the shining bright sign, the faint bass thumping from inside, a rhythm that seems to resonate with something deep within me.

Absentmindedly, I float through the front doors, as if I'm pulled inside by a sinful magnet. I've never been to a strip club before, never even considered it, but tonight is different. Tonight, there's a voice inside me whispering that this is where I need to be. The dim lights, the heavy scent of perfume and sweat, the sultry atmosphere — it intoxicates me in a way liquor never has.

My heart races as I glance around, overwhelmed by the heat and smoke. Men and women sit around small tables, their eyes fixed on the stage where a beautiful woman is dancing. Her movements are mesmerizing, a combination of sensuality and artistry. She exudes confidence and power, unapologetically owning her body and the attention she commands.

As I watch her, a mixture of awe and curiosity washes over me. There's something liberating about the way she moves, a freedom that I've never allowed myself to experience. For a moment, I'm entranced, forgetting about the fresh scar between my breasts, about all the doctors, and machines, and probing. About everything. It's as if time has suspended, and I'm in a realm where rules are rewritten and desires are embraced.

My eyes drift to a small notice tacked onto the wall near the entrance. "HIRING: Performers Wanted." The words jump out at me, and I feel a rush of excitement mingled with trepidation. I glance back at the dancer on stage, and as if she senses my gaze, she sends me a silent message of encouragement. And a strange voice in my head purrs, "You belong here, Emery. You—"

"Wakey wakey!" I gasp, holding my chest as Sophie hovers over my bedside, eyes wide with excitement. "Oh, excellent, you're awake!" She takes a step back, allowing me to breathe and gather my barrings. What is she doing here?! Sophie checks her watch. "You've got five minutes to get dressed, Emery. The chopper is waiting for us. We're already late."

I blink rapidly at her, still groggy. "I'm sorry but what?"

"Shop-ping," Sophie enunciates each syllable as if I were a child learning to speak. She points to my empty closet. "Remember? Yesterday? Wardrobe emergency? No clothes?" She narrows her eyes when I don't reply. "The Gala? It's tomorrow. You need a dress. Plus, perhaps some outdoor attire?" She glances at the dress I arrived in last night. "Unless you fancy skiing in satin?"

"I—"

"Five minutes! Chop-chop!" She claps her hands at me. "The boutiques in Perreau Hills open at 10 am, I don't wish to be late."

"Perreau Hills?"

Sophie sighs. "It's a charming town, not an hour from here. You'll adore it there! We'll shop, get some lunch, and be back just in time for supper."

Dread washes over me. "You want to spend the whole day...shopping?"

Her smile damn near blinds me. "Precisely. Plus, it'll give us some alone time." She wiggles her brows. "I have many questions for you. So very many." She doesn't let my deflated reaction ruin her mood. "Right. I'll see you in the courtyard in five!"

When my bedroom door slams shut, I toss my legs out of bed and storm towards the adjoining room. This is ridiculous. When did I agree to this? She can't just—

"Wake up!" I rattle Quinton's shoulder as he lightly snores. "Quin!" No movements. Damn, he's a sound sleeper. "Quin! Wake the fuck up!" I shove his shoulder aggressively until his eyes spring open, alert and startled. "Quin!"