The sound of my heels hitting against the sidewalk was the only sound to be heard that night. In any other part of the City the night would be alive with people eating out, people going clubbing or people blasting loud music from their cars and just hanging out. Not this side of the city. This side of the city was said to be owned by people from the underworld. No one dared to come around these parts of the late night. Only those who belonged to the elite or those who had connections to the underworld themselves had the guts to come around here. Officials tended to stay away so long as no commotions were created. The saying, "See no evil, hear no evil", was taken seriously around these parts.
The feeling of my personal gun pressing against the inside of my thigh helped ease my rapid, beating heart. My knee length coat helped conceal the gun from any human eye. My own eyes scanned my surroundings as I forced my legs to move faster towards a building a few feet away.
From the outside, the building seemed like any other club in the city. But I knew better and anyone who had stepped a foot in this place, well, anyone who was allowed in, knew that looks could be deceiving. Contrary to the boring look of the exterior side of building, the interior was a world full of sex, drugs, money and power.
I huffed as I made my way up the steps towards the entrance of the building. I knocked twice on the metal door while I kept checking my surroundings. My eyes focused on a black car that had pulled up on the other side of the street. Men in suits stepped out of the sports car. The dark night didn't give me the opportunity to see if I recognized any of the men as regulars or new clients.
"You're late." The voice of a man brought my attention away from the group of men and back to the metal door that was now opened. "Everything okay?" he asked as his eyes looked past me.
The man who stood on the other side of the entrance was part of the security crew that guarded the building. No one knew what his birth name was and he never answered when asked. But there were instances when I would overhear my boss call him, "Martillo". No one got past him unless they were on his list. At first glance he seemed like a hulk of a guy. He looked mean and people tended to steer away from him but any of the girls who worked here, including me, would tell you that he was a nice person. At least to us he was.
I didn't respond but decided to smile at him instead as I made my way past him and into the building. I made my way down the dark hallway, flinching a little at the sound of the entrance door slamming closed, a reminder that I was locked in here until my job was completed for the night.
Even in the dark I knew where I was going. From memory I knew that up ahead there were some stairs that led to the second floor where all of the girls got ready for the night. A door to the right of the stairs led to the main 'performance' room. That room consisted of black, high glass tables that spread across the walls as well as various black couches surrounding a large stage were men could lounge on. A bar full of expensive drinks was located at the back of the room. A pole extended from the center of the stage floor up to the ceiling. The stage had been placed in the middle of the room, giving everyone who visited a chance to see the show. A set of stairs led from the stage up to a door on the second floor.
The walls were the color red with small designs of gold. The dim lights from the ceiling gave the room a sense of alluring temptation. As I passed the door I noticed old and new faces of men who were already situated in the room watching the first performance for the night. The smell of cigarettes and other drugs drifted out of the room as I made my way up the stairs.
I reached between my thighs and grabbed my gun. I held it close to my chest as I neared the door at the top. There was no reason for me to carry the gun, nor was there a reason for me to worry about getting attacked. My job provided me the protection I needed to get from my home to my workplace. The protection was still in place as I worked.
My job provided me with a lot of things; a car to drive around but I refused to accept it. It provided me housing in this same area but I also refused to accept it. Instead I had chosen to commute by foot as well as choosing to live on the other side of the city, as far away as I can get from here. Anyone would call me crazy; well they did call me crazy for declining. But I had a good reason. It was about keeping something about me that no one else could own. Accepting these things would mean more money for me but it also meant giving my soul completely to them and that was something I would never allow.
As I closed the door behind me I noticed that many of the rooms that lined the hallway on this side of the floor were empty. Some of the girls had probably left to private rooms to work for the night while the rest were probably "socializing" with some of the clients.
I quickly made my way to my personal room, making sure to lock the door as I took off my coat. I dropped my gun on the vanity and kicked off my heels. I gave myself a few seconds to breathe before I walked to a rack in my closet containing various colors of lingerie. Choosing out an outfit I quickly began to change.
Martillo had been correct when he told me that I was late. The performers were required to be at the club four hours before the first performance of the night started. Performances started at eleven, so most of the girls were always on time. They had accepted the offer that was given to them and so they lived no further than 3 blocks from the club or many choose to stay living within the club. I, on the other hand, had to ride the metro for an hour and then walk a whole block before I got to the club. Taxi services refused to drive anywhere near here.
Normally, I was the first dancer to arrive along with some of the waitresses. But today I had done something out of the usual that caused me to be late. I had decided to look for a decent job. Though I was barely 23, I had finally decided that being a pole dancer wasn't something that I only wanted to do for the rest of my life. There was no way that my bosses would ever allow me to leave this job behind but they were finally allowing me to work a normal, day time job along with this one. I took advantage of that privilege and had gone to a job offering I found on the local newspaper. Things didn't go as I planned though. I was under qualified they had said to me, which was something I couldn't argue against. I had barely gotten my high school diploma and didn't even have a lick of past work experience. Frustration had taken over me after I was denied the job so I had cried myself to sleep at my apartment and had overslept.
There isn't a sad story about how I ended up as a pole dancer. There is no one else to blame for being put in this position but me. I had been young and had wanted easy, fast money. When I had just turned twenty I heard about this new club looking for dancers. I had jumped at the opportunity thinking that I would work a few nights and then eventually stop. I wanted to see what being part of the forbidden world no one liked to talk about would feel like.
I was wrong about many things. For starters, pole dancing was anything but easy. The first few nights of training gave me bad skin burns. Secondly, I wouldn't be able to 'eventually' stop. Ever.
At that time I didn't know with who I was getting involved with or that I was signing a deal that I would never be able to get out of. I didn't think that I would be stuck doing this until the day they decided they no longer needed me. I didn't know that I would be stripped of my own free will or that I would be living on their terms.
Those I speak of are my bosses and the bosses of my bosses. I came to learn that they all worked in aa organized system of people; each holding a different ranking. The higher the ranking the more power those people held. No one dared crossed them. I was a simple dancer, new at that, so I didn't know much about what went on behind closed doors. But from what I had gathered through whispers between the older co-workers, they all knew that the mafia was behind everything. Only an idiot would assume any different. Of course we never spoke about it in front of our bosses. Better to not know then know.
I sighed as I stood in front of my large mirror. The black lace lingerie I had chosen to wear for the night exposed enough skin to have the men wanting to pay up more money. A black lace mask covered most of my face, giving a sense of mystery to the overall outfit. Most of my body might have been exposed but there was always a curiosity that sparked in men at wanting to know the face behind the body that they craved.
My fingers skimmed over a black tattoo on my lower stomach. It was mandatory for all the girls to get one. It showed everyone that we already belonged to someone. But I also came to learn that this helped identify which group of the higher ranked men we belonged too. The day I got mine I felt like I was being branded like livestock.
I moved away from my mirror and sat down at my vanity. A knock at the door caused me to quickly finish applying red lipstick to my lips.
"Who is it?" I asked out loud.
"You're up in five." The voice of one of my co-worker responded.
Forgetting about the rest of the make-up, I quickly let my hair down from the bun that it was in. I said a quick prayer, though at this point I wasn't sure whether my heavenly father was even listening to me.
I took deep breaths as I made my way to the opposite end of the hallway I had walked in from. Beyond the door that was in front me I knew there were horny men, old and young, waiting with anticipation for the next dance to start. I had hated the feeling of being watched like I was candy but there was nothing I could do about it. After the first week of dancing I learned to ignore them. I had dug my own hole and there was no one who could save me from it.
Soft, sultry music started to play behind the door. It was my cue to go on stage.
I opened the door as the lights dimmed on the first floor. I waited a few seconds before I slowly made my way down the grand staircase and onto the main stage. I gripped onto the pole with one hand while I slowly walked around it, making eye contact with the men sitting on the front row. I turned all the way around towards the pole once I made my way around in a full circle and began grinding my hips to the tempo of the music. I slowly grinded my hips down to the floor and came back up in one fluid motion, my ass sticking out towards the men. I walked slowly around the pole once more before climbing up the pole with ease. Men started to whistle as I did my turns and tricks on the pole, always keeping up with the music. I noticed the money being thrown onto the stage as I came back down from the pole straight into a split on the floor. I laid on my back and grinded my hips up and down before getting back into a sitting position as the song finished. Claps and whistles sounded throughout the room. Two more songs of my choice were played for me to perform.
As my turn ended, I focused on picking up the money the men had thrown at me and stuffed it all into my bra. Another song started up, the cue for the next girl to come stage.
I touched the mask on my face, making sure that it was still tightly secured. Wearing the mask was a way for me to keep my identity hidden. Only my co-workers and bosses knew how my face looked. I never went a night without wearing it. I stepped off the stage when the next girl started to make her way down the stairs. Grateful that the attention was no longer on me, I weaved my way through the tables towards the bar. I ordered a martini as I got myself situated on a stool.
"That was a lovely performance, donna misteriosa."
Without turning to see who had spoken to me I muttered a thank you. I brought the martini I had ordered to my lips and took a sip. I placed the drink back on the counter top and focused my attention on the movements of the bartenders. I wasn't one who liked to mingle with the rest of the clients like the rest of the girls did. My goal was to collect the money and avoid any of the horny bastards for the rest of the night.
"You don't like to speak, no?" The same voice from before spoke to me again.
Letting out a deep breath to show my annoyance I turned to the person who insisted on bothering me. I came face to face with a pair of dark brown eyes. Alarmed at the closeness of the man, I recoiled from him. His eyebrows shot up from my actions.
"Thank you and no." I slowly answered his question.
I let my eyes study him. He was a handsome Italian man. His black hair was slicked back away from his face. The muscles from his body were outlined by the black shirt and black pants he wore. He was leaned against the counter, a glass full of what looked to be whisky was sitting untouched in front of him. My eyes met his for a split second before I quickly looked away. I felt shivers throughout my body as I felt his eyes on me. The shivers weren't from pleasure. No. They were from fear. There was something in this man that caused a sense of fear to bubble up and replace my calm composure.
Maybe it was the way his eyes seemed to pierce your mind and read your soul. Or maybe it was the way power and money radiated off of him. Even though he was wearing simple clothing, the way people seemed to avoid standing next to him was enough to come to the conclusion about how important this man was to the underworld.
I glanced around me and noticed the worried looks my fellow coworkers were shooting me.
"You know, donna misteriosa, you're the only one of the dancers who I didn't get to speak to today. You weren't here for the meeting that was being held today. Was there something more important than being at a mandatory job meeting?"
His patronizing tone angered me. The fear I felt a few minutes ago vanished as I turned to him and said, "Why the hell does your horny, bastard self care about whether I'm late to my job or not? All your kind care about is watching us dance so that you can all go and wank your sausages in the bathroom."
A bartender who was passing by us gasped at my words. His mouth fell wide open as he stared from me to the Italian man standing next to me.
A chuckle left the Italians mans mouth. He picked up his drink and took a sip. Taking his precious time, he placed it back down and stoop up straight. He reached his hand out to me and said, "Nice to meet you, Elisa, I'm Matteo; your new boss."
It was my turn now to let my mouth hang open.
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Hello lovely readers! So this is a new book I am starting. I have had this idea in my head for the past few weeks but I was hesitant to post it. It's a story I want to write along with TMP.
Leave any comments and let me know what you think. Yay or nay for this story??