Prince's Point Of View
The dark-brown liquid burns my esophagus as it trickles it's way down to my stomach. I pinch my nose all while I fling my head to the side, to rid myself of the intense burning that has traveled it's way to my nose.
Bodies fly around the room in a chaotic rush, as I sit on the stool facing the fogged mirror. "Does someone have windex?" I speak out, to no response. I peer over my shoulder in curiosity, to find my management, body guards, makeup artists and my band all sharing panicked expressions.
I furrow my eyebrows and extend my leg to push the stool, to face them. "What the fuck is going on?" I question the crowd of people in my small quarters of a dressing room.
Their eyes advert to mine, and their mouths open simultaneously. "We have no guitarists", "we don't have enough security detail, Eric and his people are a large threat at a big event like this", "reporters will be here", "how are we going to play this song with out the full band?" The chatter dies down after I chuckle manically, and it becomes dead silent when I suck my lips inward and chortle as I past them all.
"Get your heads out of your assholes people! Let's get on with it, before you all worry yourselves till you flatline," I adjust my head to face my manager, Norman. "I'm just wondering why you say there is no guitarists, when you know good and well that I am one, have you just magically forgotten this?" I tilt my head and tap my foot in anticipation, his lip he begins to bite, and I flash a grin. I hit his shoulder with a swat of my wrist. "I said loosen up!"
I lead everyone out towards the steps to the stage, and the banter continues, causing my eyes to roll in frustration. "Do you really think it's a good idea to do Lady Cab Driver, we have no guitarist or keyboard player, Prince, this is serious!"
"Hand me the damn instruments then. I don't care." I begin to walk up the stairs as Norman pulls on my jacket.
"Don't include the sex part with that girl, okay, we have critics in the audience.. You have enough sexual innuendos in your performances you don't need an almost full on org-"
"For sure man," I put up my thumb with a grin completing my sarcastic expression, and I turn to my remaining band members. "Let's make them piss." They all grin at one another before following my lead.
I halt before getting to centre stage, I close my eyes and murmur under my breath. "This ones for you." And I hope she hears.
"Good Evening, this is your pilot, Prince, speaking" my voice comes out of the loudspeakers, all softness and breath, full of welcome. "It's a flight you may not have taken before. Brace yourself," I sway my hips as hold onto the microphone with care, glancing seductively at the crowd of screaming women beneath the stage. "You are flying aboard the Seduction 747," I rasp. "To activate the flow of excitement, extinguish all clothing materials."
Standing alone on the upper riser, I simply point a finger, and a brass bed materializes. Stripping off my jacket, my shirt, unbuckling my belt so that a long strap hangs between my legs, I climb onto the mattress and begin to undulate over the bed. "We are now making our final approach to satisfaction. Please bring your lips, your arms, your hips into the up and locked position for landing," I say, panting.
I let out a piercing scream that seems to announce the sudden fall from the sky of the flight of Seduction 747 – and the bed and I disappear from the crowds view.
Bobby Z beings to beat his drums, causing the crowd to yell out in excitement. The screeches grow as the synthesizers sound, allowing all the 'friends' to know the exact song the introduction belongs to. I climb up the stairs, this time coming out onto the centre of the stage.
"I guess I shoulda known, by the way you part your hair sideways- that it wouldn't last. See, you're the kind of person who believes in making out once, love them once and leave them fast" I crawl on the ground, allowing everyone to see my change of attire.
My high-heeled boots, flouncy ruffled blouse and purple quasi-Edwardian suit has been changed in the short amount of time beneath the stage, into much less clothing. My boots remain the same, but all I now sport is a pair of bikini underpants, which excites the front row, and probably has caused my management to loathe me further.
"Guess I must be dumb, she got a pocket full of horses-Trojan-and some of them used. It was Saturday night, I guess it makes it all right. You said what have I got to loose, and hunny I said; little, red, corvette!"
**
The show continues smoothly, and I currently have my eyes locked on a familiar face. The chocolate-skinned girl with bangs who had sat with the infamous Nikki at the café, is in front row. To her left is the girl who sports braids, who was also present that night. I scan across the row to see if Nikki had came along with them, but to no avail.
"Don't you wanna play with my tootsie roll?" And I entreat my audience into the singalong to "Head" – "I'll give you head, love you till you're dead." The girls in front row sing-along loudly. I lick my lips as I stare down the one with bangs.
Without the streams of tears she had once sported, she looks far happier and entranced, in a euphoric state, even.
I slide on my knees as an instrumental solo ensues. My fairly revealed lower half is level with many of the front rows's faces. I swivel to the left, and run my hand through the girl with bangs locks. I kiss on her cheek, which escalates to the lips, for a brief moment. Her screams cease as she grips onto my shoulders. I smile as I back away from her grasp, and she continues to stare up at me with her dewy brown eyes.
I send her a wink, as well as to her friend, and they both dramatically place their palm on their foreheads as if to check their temperature.
***
Nikki Darling's Point Of View
"Okay, okay, slow down!" I chortle to myself, before reassuring my makeup artist with a nod that she can continue her work on my appearance.
"I'm going to make love to him!!!!" Calvion screeches, her excitement causes her voice to crack and waiver. "I swear, I swear. He's so beautiful," she gushes. "Damn, right!" Sheria adds in, in a almost identical tone.
"So he kissed you?" I reiterate the earlier sentence that was shouted at a loud volume, that forced me to pull the phone away from my ear.
"Uhm, yes?!?! Girl, I told you this!"
"Okay, you guys are just so loud. I'm going to go deaf, you both speak in unison, which only ampli-"
"You should've came.." Calvion drags in a low tone. "Yea!" Sheria concurs, you would've had so much fun."
"He was humping the ground. Dear Jesus, those hips!" Calvion exclaims, slowly becoming muffled, which I assume is due to her biting her knuckles.
"Ou, a man with hips? Must be excellent in bed then" a familiar voice sounds.
"Grandma!?" I shout in absolute horror.
The girls on the other line guffaw at my grandmothers unexpected entrance into the call, but I just shake my head in shame. "How much did you hear?"
"Quite a bit, I was going to ask for your assistance, but I saw you were busy on the phone. I was curious to know what you girls talk about from morning to night."
"Ah!" Calvion shrieks. "Grandma Beth is n-o-s-y" Sheria and her laugh harmoniously.
"That I am darling. Well, I'm glad you had a great night last night. Unfortunately, Nikki and I have an event to tend to, but she'll be home before daylight ends" she speaks to my friends as posh as always, which causes me to laugh at their contrast in chatter.
"Sounds good, have fun darling!" Sheria bids farewell.
"Bye" Calvion and I speak at the same time.
When the phone call is finished, I lean backwards to see which phone line my grandmother is on, which evokes panic in the woman behind me, for I almost leaned back onto the hot iron. "I'm sorry.." I frown, before tilting myself back more carefully than previous, only to see a wheelchair rolling down the hall.
My grandmothers pampered appearance causes me to grin. "How gorgeous you look! Oh my, look at your blouse, you hot wheelie you!" I tease her with a high-pitched voice. And her cheeks go red from bashfulness.
"And you look beautiful too, I love you're hair cut. It really suit you, Nikki." She wheels around my chair and admires my features, as a loving grandmother often does.
"I agree with that," the woman doing my hair adds. "And with that..." she drags on as she styles the last strand. "You're ready for the races!"
**
The driver was as kind as my grandmother when it came to the compliment department. They gushed to one another how beautiful I look in my purple gown, that I have grown into a voluptuous woman, that particular comment caused my cheeks to flush.
Even with all the compliments, my self-confidence is terribly low. As I stare at my foggy reflection through the tinted window, I reflect my family's standards onto my own appearance.
My long blond locks are long gone, a symbol of my purity and youth has been replaced by the darkest shade, a short cut that will surely horrify my mother. With a small tattoo of a saxophone on my left shoulder being visible, I am surely going to receive some disgusted glares or- worse- remarks.
I place my left palm on my right shoulder, knowing that my exposed skin without a satin sheet covering it was unlike the royal dress code.
"What if I get kicked out?" I blurt out to the two other individuals in the car.
The driver looks back to me through the mirror, my grandmother turns to me, she offers attentive, and kind eyes.
"Then I'll leave too!" She declares with her chin high to the sky.
I chuckle at her declaration. "That won't be necessary," my voice quiets down into a whisper. "I'll need to be alone after this.." my nails tap on the leather interior.
We arrive at the estate I once called home. It feels like it took mere minutes to get here, making me feel uncomfortable that I live so close to this particular side of my family.
Women in light pastel dress and shall's, and men with black and navy suits exit from their cars and walk aimlessly in the parking lot, most not knowing where the front yard is, to their left or to their right.
When we exit, the driver bids farewell and states that he will be waiting for us in the car, something I wish I could say.
I roll my grandmother across the parking lot. Making a B-line towards the front entrance. As we make our way there, many people greet my grandmother with lovely smiles, but due to my new appearance and my bowed head, no one recognizes me.
I spot my beloved piano teacher and chef that I used to share a deep connection with, but I am far too ashamed for them to see me as I am now, especially with the tabloids making extravagant stories about my private life. I'm sure that the people I used to be connected with, will no longer connect to my troubled self.
We halt at the front entrance, because people have stopped to talk to my grandmother, in complete admiration for her they gush about her good looks. My head remains bowed, until my grandmother turns to me, and lifts my chin with her wrinkled fingers.
My chin slowly rises, and a breath catches in my throat, as I gaze into my mother's eyes. Her mouth is slightly agape, but my father who is to her right has his mouth clenched shut.
"Oh my god," mother places a pampered hand in front of her glossy lips. She makes her way around Grandmothers chair and places her hands on my face, hair and shoulders. "Why have you cut your hair? It was so long, and beautiful!" Her eyes hold hurt, and deep down I feel bad, for she was the one who groomed me for countless hours as a child so that I could maintain a gorgeous mane.
I push her hands down from examining my every 'imperfection' and she recoils her hands to her chest. Father swiftly makes his way to her side and wraps a comforting arm around her torso, all while staring down at me with disapproval.
"I told you they wouldn't accept me" I direct to grandmother as I continue my cold staring match with father.
Grandmother rolls between us, and shakes her head at her son. "You have a wonderful daughter, I think she looks splendid with her new hair cut. It suits her" she defends with a glare.
Father bends down and places his large hands on her dainty shoulders. "Who's been taking care of you? You look pale."
"Nikki-" my grandmother is interrupted by father's disapproving sigh as his head snaps towards mine. My father's prolonged sigh turns into a whimper when grandmother swats his cheek "I'm bloody British, that's why."
The remaining friends and distant family members disperse from the circle, allowing us to conclude the tension. Father stands straight up. "Do you have any idea how your rendezvous have impacted our reputation, our company?"
"And there it is" I roll my eyes as my hands flail into the air and fall to my sides.
Father steps foreword. "I'm serious" he states in a stern tone.
Tears begin to trickle down my cheeks as I look around at the multiple sets of eyes staring at the spectacle- which seems to be me.
A pair of blue eyes widen when they lay on mine. "Nikki?!" His voice yells out from the distance.
"For fuck sakes" I murmur, and gain firm grip around the handles on grandmothers chair. I push with all my might, against the grass.
Mother, father and even grandmother continue to speak out at me, but all gets blocked out. The overwhelming feeling of being watched and judged causes my tear ducts to go into overdrive.
My brother continues to jog by our side. "Nikki? Why are you running?"
I snap out of my blur, but refuse to turn towards him.
"She needs a minute dear.." grandmother speaks out to her grandson.
"It's fine," I reassure with a smile, before turning to Anthony. His twiggy body has doubled in size, which I presume is do to a strict diet and workout routine father has put upon him. "Hi Anthony, you look nice" a smile tugs at my lips as I notice his trousers are too tight for him.
"Thanks," Anthony speaks out in a breathy fluster. "You-you look, different" he forces a grin.
I comb the ends of my hair with my finger tips. "You've never been good with compliments," I shake me head in a bout of silent laughter. He doesn't speak much, and the silence begins to become awkward. "How's the business going?" I feel sick to ask about it, but I know it is the only topic Anthony will actually respond to.
His smile becomes genuine and his shoulders straighten, causing me to hold back a eye roll- or two. "It's perfect, this year alone we have grown by 40% in profits, almost doubling the initial profit!"
The large bell hanging beside the make-shift alter in the yard, rings, signalling for all guests to get seated.
"That's great" I speak through gritted teeth as we begin to walk towards the multiple rows of white draped seats.
Anthony continues speaking about his position and his expanding family, but I just focus on the hundreds of faces glancing at me.
When I get around 500 metres away from our assigned seats, I halt.
Anthony stares back at grandmother and I when he notices he is now speaking to thin air. With a single motion of her hand, grandmother rids Anthony from our presence.
My grip loosens around the handles as a panic attack creeps up from my core. My palms perspire at an incredible rate. And my breathing follows my pounding heartbeat.
"You should go home, my darling. I'm sorry I dragged you here. You don't deserve this treatment."
My watery eyes widen and I stare down at her kind smile. "Really?" I sniffle. "Are you sure? The ceremony-"
"It's fine," she caresses my chin. "You've already seen the real thing anyways. I can get my boo-thing Martin," she turns to face a elderly man smiling gingerly at her. "To drive me back."
I let out several cackles, which cause many eyes glare, and it silences me. "Did you just say boo-thing?" I laugh silently.
She nods and reaches to pat my bottom, urging me to leave the uncomfortable situation.
"Is there anything you want? Like I feel bad leaving you in the middle of grass like this.."
She waves Martin to her side and he jogs, soon enough he is by her side. "It's okay, Martin will take me to the alter," she stares up at the man with rosy cheeks. I admire their adorable romance in silence. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes, my love" he nods, before pushing her towards his chair.
"I'd take advantage of the buffet inside if I were you!" Grandmother shouts out quietly, sending a wink in my direction.
I walk in the direction of the front doors, hoping guests would assume I'm going to the restroom rather than raiding the kitchen.
As I push the extravagant white wooden doors open, I speak to myself aloud. "Might as well take advantage of the food" I murmur.
While I walk down the foyer, and down the steps towards the open dining area, I feel as if someone is lurking. My suspicions disappear when I lay eyes on the luxurious meal before me. Everything a belly could ever wish for is on this mahogany table.
I reach for the seafood salad and fill a serving bowl, I grab a spoon and begin to feast.
My slurping and moans of approval are disrupted by a serious of cackles and a the tapping of a hard leather shoe on the marble flooring.
I freeze up, as if I'd been blasted by a superhero's invention and a lump forms in my throat. I don't dare turn around, for I don't need to to know the identity the cackles belong to.
"You've really become a rebel, did I do that to you? Because that would be a real shame, I don't know how I would live with myself" His sarcastic tone echoes throughout my ear drums.
With the seafood salad in hand, I sprint towards the side door, that gives direct access to the parking lot. He follows my strides, and when I finally reach the side door, I jingle the door knob, but it remains locked. Mr.Connor becomes flush against my backside and pushes me against the door. I turn to face him, holding back all my anger, fear and tears to appear stronger than he.
His hands entangle in my locks, flickering through my bangs and his finger takes down my face. I crane my face in the opposite direction, and he places kisses on my neck that makes me feel vulnerable and scared. "I've missed you, Nikki" he breathes.
His hands roam, but I remain still. Only when his hand travels underneath my gown do I begin to squirm. I press my lips against his jaw, before I open and forcefully bite down. I bite with such considerable force, that it draws a large amount of blood. He shrieks in horror and backs away from me.
He regains control and comes towards me with a powerful stride, before I through the salads contents into his eyes. The vinaigrette stings his eyes and he rubs them frantically. I spit the remaining blood in my mouth onto him before smashing the porcelain on his bowed head. He cries in agony and I make my escape through the front entrance.
As I walk out, a few guests walk in, and stare at me in horror, as blood trickles down my chin.
I wipe it off, and run as fast as possible in 5-inch heels towards the familiar limousine.
I throw myself into the backseat, and the driver begins to question if he should wait for my grandmother before he peers over his shoulder and notices the state that I am currently in.
The entire drive home is a nightmare. I sob violently as flashbacks claim my thoughts. My body feels disgusting, I feel the need to shave all of my hair off and scrub my skin until I reach a new layer completely. I scratch at my shoulders as shivers go down my spine, almost as if I'm reliving his touch, in a torturous repetition.
I exit the car in silence, and the driver stays silent as well, I assume he gave up on speaking to me with no response in return.
I walk to my quarters with my heels in hand, and the cool gravel feels satisfying under my aching feet. The eerie appearance of the tunnel towards my room usually earns a rebellious smirk from me, but the darkness begins to invoke fear in me.
I walk into a cardboard box, and I jump up with a shout. When I no longer feel spooked by the unexpected feeling, I squat down, and see my mailing address on top. A smirk finally etches onto my somber expression.
I shake the box and I bite my lip in anticipation. I begin to regret going to the renewal even more, for I have missed my favourite mail-man.
I open the door with a kick of my foot, and after placing the box down on the vanity, I begin to shout up towards the tall ceilings.
I thrash my gown off, and run to the bathroom. I endure extremely rough scrubbing on all inches of my body as the hot water falls onto my back. It's hard to tell if I am crying or not, for my tears could easily be mistaken for water from the shower head.
With warm, dampened skin, I stare into the full body mirror. I stare at my red body and the permanent frown on my face. I wipe the condensation off of the mirror, which gives me better ability to shame myself. I grab onto either side of the mirror and pull myself close. "You are sexy" I repeat in a desperate plea to the mirror, to allow it to be true.
After a mental break down that involved screaming at a mirror, I stand upright and rid myself of all emotion, as a high-functioning sociopath would.
I head out of the bathroom with one thought in mind- pleasure.
I grab the box and hold it tight to my chest, before throwing myself backwards onto the bed.
I open the cardboard box with anxious fingers, ripping at the tape that holds my items prisoner.
I smile brightly when I finally look into the box. My new order of chains, whips, gags and vibrators are in. I'm especially excited for the new chains that are designed specifically for the tilt table, a device I haven't had the pleasure of using yet, and I intend of using it- right now.
I leave the box of treasure on my bed, and head towards my drawers. I put lingerie on, so that I can feel a tad bit sexier when I glance into the endless amount of reflective surfaces in my room.
The black fabric- with a single piece of underwire to allow my breast to appear perkier- contrasts with my skin. The lace allows my skin to be revealed beneath the fabric.
The matching underwear fits perfectly on my hips, and the snap against my hip bone causes my lips to tug upwards.
I wrap the golden garter belt around my thighs, and stare into the mirror with a heightened confidence. I shake my hair side to side, before kneeling down and reaching for my notebook.
Multiple numbers fill the pages of the brown leather book. Beside each phone number is yet another number. I curse at myself for the confusion I have casted upon my self. I ponder if the numbers are stating their penis size or their rank.
Nonetheless, I choose to call a number that I have learned to remember off by heart.