/Liyah G's POV./
"This just in , 17 year old Daniel Charleston's body has been identified and found in the creek behind the neighborhood's favorite - a diner that is quite popular with the kids called Frank's Kitchen. Located on the 5th avenue, Police say that the incident is nothing to ignore and the search for Daniel's assaulter has just begun. Officials say-"
"I can't watch this." Liyah mumbled, shaking her head as she took her eyes off of the box shaped screen sitting adjacent her vanity. Perched up on the chipped wooden stand so that everyone in the room got a clear view as they skidded past, either halfway dressed or not dressed at all. Stopping to stare at the news broadcast and sip in all that there was to know about the latest word on the street.
It all made Liyah sick. So many teenagers had been getting killed or going missing. Teenagers and adults alike losing their lives as if it were nothing. As if they would be spared another chance at life after losing the battle far too soon the first go around. It made Liyah's head spin.
The woman took a deep, exhausted breath as she swiveled around in her chair to face herself in the mirror. Her lips puckered up as if it were a natural reaction anytime she made contact with a mirror. Shoulders squaring, spine straightening out so that she sat tall and proud in her seat. Confident. Liyah ignored the blood rushing to her head as she reached out her hand to grab her red brush, bringing the brush up to her hair so that she could tame the once frizzy strands of brown.
It was your average, Friday night at the Red Room. Located in downtown Chicago, the doors opened at 8:30 pm on the dot and the fun didn't stop until 3:00 am. The devils time. Lights were dimmed and the music was turned up. The walls shook due to the high sound vibrations, and the floors trembled as fellas strided across them wearing their expensive dress shoes.
"Liyah come on now, you hoggin' up the mirror."
Liyah rolled her eyes, pushing a curly strand of cocoa butter dressed hair out from her eyes and into her shoulder length fro.
"It's my mirror." Liyah said, removing her finger from her hair and beginning to clean around her area. The dancer behind her only smacked her lips, crossing her arms over her breast which weren't covered by even a piece of a bra. "Not when you gotta be out on that floor in under five. Getcha' ass up and stop being stingy."
She could only sigh and bite her tongue. A lot of the dancers here were so entitled to each others things, it was a disease. When Liyah came into the building she locked her bags up in her locker and didn't put in the code until she was certain nobody else was around to see her. Hands became dirty, grimy under the red room's lights. It seemed as if a lot of these girls had no problems unmasking themselves under the blanket of the night, exposing just who they really were when pushed into a world like this.
"I think you'd do better using the bathroom mirror than sniffing around Liyah's vanity."
Liyah turned to her left. Standing there was Azura, one of the only people Liyah could actually trust at a place like this. Tall and slim with a deep brown skin complexion and sharp, feline eyes. Azura was a 30 year old woman who had been dancing at the red room since she was 16.
When Liyah first turned to dancing , Azura was there to show her the ropes. She didn't like Liyah at first. Truth be told, none of the dancers did. She was young and hot. The fresh new thing to dance on the tall metal poles, under the shiny red lights.
After awhile Azura warmed up to her. They became great friends. Azura was something of a big sister to Liyah. Liyah, something of a younger sister to Azura.
"Azzie can you watch my area for me? If I'm not out in another minute Bobby's gonna have my fuckin' head." Liyah swore, standing up from the stool and adjusting the straps to her top. A stringy bralette with see through lace, satan red lace panties and seven inch tall red leather heels. Body glitter sprinkled on her body, giving her frame a luminous affect under the fluorescent lights. The smell of cherries followed her everywhere she went.
"You know I'll guard it with my life. Go out and make that money." Azura winked, leaning back against the vanity.
"Thank you." Liyah smiled, turning on her heels and making her way towards the exit from the changing rooms. Behind her, she could hear Azura dismissing the dancer that had tried to bully her from the vanity. Liyah could only laugh to herself as she stepped out into the narrow hallway.
The sound of "Money" by The Flying Lizards filled her ears as she strutted from out back and in to the main area of the club.
The lions den - as she liked to call it.
On a typical Friday night there were many businessmen who had just gotten off from work that needed some type of escape after drowning themselves in paperwork and whatever other white collard business they chose to engage in. Most of them were married, rings tucked into their pockets as they threw crispy one dollar bills on the dancers that straddled their laps and twirled across the stages before them.
A lot of them were twice Liyah's age. She was only 24, 25 in another month or so. She didn't keep up with her birthdays anymore. She had become a woman the minute she hit 17. There was no point in keeping a count of where you were in life when you were already an adult. The next step was death.
Her hips sway with a sensual groove. This was all so natural to her. She had mastered the art of seduction at the ripe age of 17 and never looked back. If it was one way to get what you wanted - out of anybody male or female alike - it was with your body. In a life like this, it was always looks over mind. Body over brain. Titillation over thoughts. Convincing someone that they could earn control over you if even for one night meant that you could have anything from them in the long run.
Persuading a man into thinking that sex was the prize in the end meant you had the world in your hands.
This was a man's world but pussy was the big boss in charge.
Atleast, that's what girls like Liyah had been taught.
"Hey baby, I got $200 for you right now."
Liyah looked in the direction in which the obnoxious sound had been coming from. A middle aged white guy sat drunken in his seat, wagging a wad of cash at Liyah as if she were some type of dog - attracted by the sight of a shiny bone.
She could deny him, but denying him meant denying the money. So instead of walking away, Liyah decided to up that price. Make him want to give her more. She wasn't touching him for 200.
"Is that all I'm worth to you?" Liyah raised a brow, walking in his direction. She stopped when she was a good distance away from touching his knees. Placing her hands on either side of his chair and bending down so that her lips were inches away from his.
She noticed the way his body stiffened and his eyes widened. She noticed the way his hand holding the cash began to tremble. He didn't know how to act, knowing that he had been put on the spot. He wanted her attention and now that he had it, he didn't know what to do with it.
Playing mind games with a man was never a good idea. But it was fun. And Liyah did it all of the time. She had always been attracted to danger. Sometimes she barely made it out alive, but still made it nonetheless. This man was no different. He was, perhaps, the most easiest component on her list.
"N-no mam. I just thought that—"
"That I would take 200 because I'm a stripper, right?" Liyah frowned. The man shook his head.
"N-no! Not at all!" He panicked. Liyah scoffed, looking off to the side.
"Here, I'll prove it to you. Pick your price and it's yours." He said, scrambling to pull his wallet from the dress pants of his expensive DIOR suit. It was vintage, nice.
Now that Liyah knew what he was willing to do to have her, she had no problem making it worth his while. She couldn't settle for 200 and he couldn't either. It was silly of him to stick that in her face in the first place.
Liyah didn't know a lot of things, but she knew her worth. It would be dangerous to forget such a thing in a place like this.
Her eyes were struck with a light of fire, a light of satisfaction. Licking over her lips, she made direct eye contact with the man. His eyes were a dull blue, wrinkles on the sides. Lips thin and pale pink. His skin looked cold.
"Sit back baby." Liyah whispered, flickering her gaze down to his lips.
He sat back without an ounce of hesitation. Liyah stood up straight, purposefully pulling her bralette down a bit to expose the tops of her breast. Swaying her hips as she turned around to dance to the song as it played out. She felt the first wave of one dollar bills fall down on her ass, sliding down her legs in a river of green and hitting the floor right next to her feet.
Looking on the stage, she seen another familiar face. Her bestfriend who just so happened to be her roommate as well.
Park Jimin.
The thing that was so addictive about the Red Room, was the diversity. Both in race and in gender. There were very few male dancers but still male dancers nonetheless. And they pulled just as much weight as the women did.
Park Jimin was about 5'9. A South Korean who had been dancing since he was 20. He was only a year older than Liyah but didn't have as much as experience as she did. He entered the red room about two years after she had began working there. He had never been shy, she could give him that. He wore his heart on his sleeve - literally.
Tattoos scattered around his body, all of many things that more than likely painted the imagine of his life. His world.
Beautiful piercings in his ears. He loved to wear chokers, and please both men and women alike. He was a customer's favorite - with a few regulars under his belt who came every other night to support him. Let him take them to heaven in the paradise room down the hall...
Liyah unintentionally made eye contact with him. He winked at her when she did, puckering his lips before circling the pole. Liyah smiled, dipping her hips just a bit so that she almost brushed against the erection that took no time to form in the man's pants.
Dollars fell on her lower back and then came the feel of his hands on her hips. Liyah shook her head, licking over her shoulder. They couldn't touch unless they paid for a private dance. This was out. Opened.
"No touching." Liyah said simply. The man nodded.
"Yes mam." He said, snapping his arms back in place on his lap. Liyah rolled her eyes, turning around.
If she closed her eyes hard enough and cancelled out the noise, she could imagine that she was wearing a pretty little leotard and a cute little tutu. Ballerina shoes on her feet as she twirled around a stage. Flowers being thrown at her instead of dollar bills. Cheers from a crowd being chanted at her instead of cat calls from older men.
She would be doing fouettés instead of lap dances. Twirls instead of hip dips.
She could only live in that fantasy for so long before she was reminded of her reality...