Buying A Princess

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     The girl danced with her thin arms above her head - lightly swaying to the beat of the melancholy song that played. The spotlight was on her, but the lethal fluid that coursed through her veins relinquished the panic that threatened to overtake her consciousness. She danced for her spectator, allowing her hands to travel up the canvas of her unadorned stomach and over the thin cloth that concealed her pert breast.

      He was mesmerized, much like the others who sat in the audience. Lucca, watched as the tiny skirt rose and fell up off her hips.

      The captivating stranger was beautiful: her brown hair was set aglow with rich chestnut highlight, she sported a classically constructed face and a petite graceful frame. From his accommodations, Lucca was incapable of seeing the hue of her eyes. He could only imagine her sporting the darkest, most tantalizing shade of brown.

      The more she flowed, the more of herself she exposed. The skirt seemed to slip slightly, revealing her protruding hip bone and the trim of her lace lingerie. The men -and women- in the crowd became rowdier, calling out crude comments and whistling, but the girl did not respond. Her hips did not waver, and her breath remained consistent.

     She was intoxicated, he realized. There was absolutely no doubt about it; her movements were much too unstable. She seemed to stumble with every timid step, but somehow her alluring nature prevailed...

     It was incredibly impulsive... Men like Lucca had the power and funds to buy whatever and whomever they desired, but he hadn't ever considered acting upon that right. Until that night, when he lost every sense of reality and fell for a girl who danced on stage, in front of lustful socialists.

     He craved her desperately, and so, with a small smirk, Lucca rose a finger and beckoning they scantily clad waitstaff towards him. She offered a provocative smiled before rushing off to retrieve her supervisor.  

~

She was alarmed, the alcohol in her system had dissipated in a matter of seconds. She was fearful of the man that sported large arms and a platinum card. He leads her towards his extravagant vehicle with his hand hovering over the small of her back and her bag clutched tightly in his free hand.

     She was keenly aware of the invisible price tag they'd, the owners of the club, placed alongside her name. This man had not hesitated to swipe his card and claim her as his property. For less than half the price, he could have 'rented' her for a night or two. Two days was a sufficient amount of time to ride himself of his desire for her.

     What more could he have wanted?

     Surely, nothing good could come from her current situation.

A/N: Unedited and completely unplanned. Comments? Critiques?