For the friend who set a challenge to make my writing better.
Émmene moi.-Unknown.
"Thalia you can do this."
She stared back at the woman who was staring at her in the mirror. The once lifeless honey brown eyes. The matted unwashed short brown locks that used hang dully against her face. Cheeks that were hollowed out, eyes with shadows that could be seen from a mile away. Lips chapped and blue as if she was always cold. She was. She looked ill, barely living. Inside she was dead. No feelings, numb to the world around her. The people around her all rendered to white noise. She'd escape, would try to in her head when she wasn't being violently reminded by her own vivid imagination. Her biggest enemy of all.
The words of the doctors, psychologists all would float through her head. She wallowed in the numbness for two years. Two years of where she let life pass her by. She shut off completely. Cut out all forms of friends, of contact with the outside world. She barely survived, remembering to eat at least once a day, to drink something other than her choice of poison for the night that would take her into the darkest depths of oblivion. And then one day it ended. There was no storm no big feeling of anxiety. On January 14th as the rain violently poured against the glass of her windows, she finally mustered the courage to finally look at herself in the mirror. To see that the spark she thought was completely obliterated fiercely shone somewhere in the depths of her chocolate eyes. That she could move on.
So she started small. Took regular relaxing shower rather than trying to skin herself bare, started cleaning up the house one room at a time, she didn't even recognise her own home from the mess. She started to eat, and eat more healthy. She would count the days, the months, hours, seconds all as a new attempt to regain control. And it worked. On January 20th she took her big first step. She called her only bestfriend. Her first attempt of contacting the outside world in two whole years. They cried for what felt like forever. So much that she physically felt herself tire and fell asleep on the phone. From there she started to build a new life on step after another. One where the demons of the past would no longer have the upper hand over her. She was silently screaming the biggest fuck you at the world. And she was basking in it.
Five years. Two months. Nine hours.
She mentally counted the time. And she smiled at what she saw in the mirror tonight. She could do this. Let go wholly and lose herself in her inhibitions tonight. She would let it drop off her like the rain did off her that dark night. Like the sight of scarlet stark red tainting the innocence lost that night mixed into the tears of the night sky, and how it fell off her body, each drop trying to drag her closer to the end. She fought relentlessly. Her soul never giving up. Today it would all be a part of her that she would finally find comfort in.
Deep breath in, exhale for longer. She repeated it once, twice, three times. Stuck another pin into her messy updo to make sure her long, freshly done honey brown hair would remain sitting there. She pulled tendrils out to frame her face, and they teasingly feathered the apples of her breasts with ever small movement. She wore minimal make up. With eye lash extensions already in she wore nothing on her eyes. The black lashes made the golden specks in her eyes shine like the rising sun. A light layer of foundation and concealer, the natural rouge of her cheeks peeped out over any product making her look the healthiest she had been in four years and flushed. Eyebrows filled in and velvety lips painted in a crimson dark wine. Satisfied she threw the lipstick into her bag.
Grabbing the dry cleaning bag on her bed, shrugging on her trench coat doing it up and throwing on a pair of boots before she moved to leave. A kiss on the forehead for her beloved dog Dax she locked up behind her, escaping into the city lights of the night.
Three weeks. Three weeks until they were having the emergency meetings out in Italy. With Andrea holding the fort out there, the twins Savas and Ormanno leaving by the end of the week it left three of them here. Tecero was given work to deal with and would be leaving with him. It left Enzo who he would have to take with him as well as his two men. As the leader Luc knew to never go around alone. It was practically law that he must always be protected. With that sorted he reminded himself why he was here. Business. The past two weeks had erupted like a bomb leaving one of the families in tatters. An attack on one was a threat to all and he was taking no chances with his familia. His frustrations were evident on his face and with constant running of his hand through his hair. He would sort out all the fronts , keep them in check before getting his ass to Italy where they were waiting on him. With that in mind, he whacked Enzo across the back of his head for the lack of attention to their surroundings as they exited the car into the night air.
She gulped, she felt ready but only time would tell. Stopping by the back entrance for workers she counted down from ten. Giving herself no time to think, to hesitate she barged in and barrelled down the hallway past the other workers. She probably looked mad. She felt like she was going mad. Entering the room full of giggling dancers she weaved her way through the swarm of bodies, careful not to hit anyone as she found her dresser. Hanging the dry cel ain't bag in the rack behind her, she opened her bag taking out beige six inch heeled pumps. She was classy in the way she upheld herself, re-checking to make sure no make up was smudged, no tendrils of hair had decided to do their own thing, she was satisfied by the fact she was still very much intact.
Opening dry cleaning bag, her shoulders moved with the shaky intake of breath. There was no pressure, it would all be on her terms. She knew that, knew the establishment worked based on the women. They ran this show and decided what they would and wouldn't do. In that she sought comfort and in that she felt her tending muscles relax. Taking out the garments she stripped down, no lingerie covering up her most feminine parts. The outfit was a short corset with an built in bra, it ended just above her last rib and sat fitted against her. The balcony cut bra pushed up the apples of her breasts, and each shallow breath she took would lead to their movement in the lost sensual of manners. Thin straps held it all up and with on tug the whole thing would come undone from the back. The finest of pearls and diamonds worked together to create the most intricate of designs across the top of her breasts and into the dip of her cleavage. The same pattern sat at her shoulders.
High waisted panties of lace dipped into the curvature of her waist, carving out the hour glass figure that she hid under her normal baggy clothes. Her ass accentuated by the cut that attempted to keep her goods all in. A thin gold chain garter sat on her right thigh, overlapping the thin fading and only visible scar that ran down the outer side of her thigh. Slipping into the sky high heels that lay by her chair, she grabbed the mask, the ribbons dancing with each other to the flow of movement as she made her way out of the room.
The BDSM club was one of many branches that brought the New York nights to life. The most popular that there was always business, always entirely ran by women. The prefect front to holding meetings upstairs, to hiding anything they weren't meant to have and the perfect way to start going into underground hiding, walking in Luc kept Enzo close as if on an imaginary leash. He had no time to be talking it up with the customers, to talk to the workers other than the manager, and so taking the stairs on the side walked straight up to the floor off limit for everyone except him and his familia. Taking a seat he started to flip through the two manila files that sat atop his desk as he waited for the manager to present himself.
Now to any normal person she knew she would've been perceived as crazy. Still fighting like a survivor and working in the last place you would expect. The club was a short walk away from home, paid good and let the women do as they pleased within reason. They choice the extent to what they would do, had the freedom of choice in completely not working the rooms or stages and just being in the floor. Two years she had been her now and slowly many of them were becoming her second family. One year exactly to when she started working the stage, two months since she would sometimes take a room for a private dance. But the one rule that stood was no touching. Until tonight.
Name: Thalia Guerra
Age: 28
He read through it all with a critical eye. She had been here for two years in total and by far the least experienced worker from what he read. But she was pretty. Hauntingly beautiful. With brown hair that flowed down the whole of her back. Striking brown eyes and glistening pink lips. Her frame was small too small, like she didn't eat. The manager sat on the other side of the desk, squirming in his seat. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face, and the top of his lip shone when hit by the light at an certain angle. His cold lifeless eyes bore into his.
"Bring her to me."
Her stunt on the stage was just came to and end. A cold towel around her neck to help her cool down from the glaring lights that blinded her. To wipe down any sweat that coated her body. A bottle of water in hand as she gulped it down greedily. All before she was being summoned. A short man who looked scared stopped in front of her. Told her that someone was waiting on her, that she was expected promptly upstairs as well as what she was meant to do. Uncharted territory. She was being told, the control of choice being stripped in the split seconds. She wondered if she could say no but the man had disappeared. And it had her bursting into a bundle of uncontrollable nerves. Her instinct of flight was kicking in. The sudden outbreak of fear she felt working quickly and effectively to have her paralysed to her place. Eyes closed, a silent prayer said, she didn't think and re-tied her mask, Thinking meant running and she was done running. She marched on ahead, determined to get through this. Whatever it was.
Walking up the stairs that felt like a walk to her death sentence, she grasped onto the railing like it was her lifeline. Her legs felt like jelly under her, knees about to buck at any given second, yet miraculously she found her feet carrying her down the dimly lit corridor to the room, the only room in the building with a black door. Outside stood the manager. Her mouth opened to speak in hushed whispers afraid of who awaited inside. He cut her off.
"He's important, just wants to see if your skilled enough."
His hand lingered in the air when it was about to touch her shoulder. His eyes softened.
"It'll be fine. I promise."
She believed in his words or at least tried to, to appease her mind. Smiled a soft smile laced with nerves at him. With a subtle nod of it's okay she can deal with whoever's inside she grabbed the doorknob twisting it open.
Thalia knew the significance this night would hold for her. The first time she would have human contact. She promised herself the first person in a private room would be the victim to her onslaught. Even if it ended with a barely there caress and her crying hysterically. Or in mutually satiated people and she could go on knowing that she was forever okay. Okay as can be. Maybe that's why she held her breath as the door opened. Was he handsome was her first thought. She may have feared the touch of another but she was still a woman.
Luc sat how he always sat when showing he was relaxing but trying to intimidate you. One arm stretches out across the back of the plush red sofa that was large enough for him to lay down a woman and climb on top of her. Body slightly angled, and a led crossed over the other. His jacket sat to his right if at any given moment he would need his gun. Always prepared. Yet his eyes looked straight ahead, even when the click of the door sealing them into the room together resonated in the room.
She breathed out hand holding the doorknob as she closed the door. She had sealed herself to this fate. To whoever sat there. The room was dim and she was yet to get a good glimpse of him. Her eyes started to adjust, her chest rose up and down at an increasingly quicker rate. Small breaths she reminded herself turning around.
Her breath hitched.
The statue of the man was a well built giant, enough to have scared and running. Broad shoulders that were defined were perfect to hold on to as you steady yourself. The hand resting on the back of the couch had tattoos peeking out across the back of his hand. Pure works of beauty in shades of black and grey from what she could see. Hair that was gelled back had moved out of place as if a hand had run through the jet black locks. He was a real man.
The soft sound of music startled her into moving. Confident strides as she walked over to the music station changing it to something she liked. Something that would speak to her and let her move with it, turning the volume up she walked over to the mini stage that spooked over the bottom of the club. For a second it took her aback, would they be able to see her? But no one seems to be looking up. With that put to rest she turned around ready.
She was still yet to look at his face. He was yet to say something to her. Instead all he got a good look of was her body. One that stirred something deep within him that he didn't like. She was confident but scared. She looked defiant but still had an innocence to her he couldn't comprehend. His eye didn't miss the fading scar that ran her thigh, nor the peeping thin scar slicing down her spine that peeped out over the and under where the corset sat. She was skinny, not unhealthily it enough that he could tell she didn't fill out all her curves. But her ass hung heavy and full, enough so it jiggled with every soft movement. She complimented the look with fuck me heels. Honey brown hair was all clipped up in a way that she ready looked ravaged and a white satin ribbon ran through it and around her face.
A mask. He realised. She was wearing a mask.
She could feel his gaze pinned to her. It was a burning sensation she felt over her body instead of in one particular place. It made her paranoid but even then she was comfortable. She tried to ignore it, kept her eyes closed her hips swayed to the music and the way she used the pole to her advantage of showing off more of herself. He chest heaved Ik and down and pushed the apples of her breasts in the most sensuous of manners. The tendrils of hair that tickled them, mimicked the feathering touch of a man. She wrapped herself around the pole like it was a body. Finally opening her eyes to see the silent customer, she felt a sudden wave of a deep spark in the depths of her stomach that she hadn't felt in years.
She gulped visibly when she opened her eyes and his eye followed the movement. He was giving her time to drink him in, to get closer and play a game of good teasing. Both hands lay against the back of the couch, spanning almost the whole thing. His body sculpted like a Greek god. The top two buttons undone gave way to a taste of a defined torso and a tatoo on his right pec. A thin silver chain with cross hung around his neck. She took her time, letting her come down from her last showing off stunt. Her eyes meeting his.
If he was standing Luc knew he would have given himself away. The intensity in her brown eyes, made the golden flack in the burn like an uncontrollable fire, emphasised by the dark long lashes framing them. Rosy cheeks made her look flushed and the slight parting of her lips had him zeroing in on how plump and perfect they were. She was perfect, slender and built with a face that would have any man running after her.
Long sturdy strides of endless legs towards him as she exaggerated the sway of her hips. For the first time he had to really reign in his want to touch. To feel the soft smooth caramel skin of the enigma in front of him. To trace the scars that marred her chaotic perfection. She worked him right. Close enough to touch yet never giving him the chance. As the music grew closer to an end her body got closer. So close her could feel the heat of her burning through his close onto his skin. Hands came down on his shoulders as she boldly straddled him. Her breath fanning the shell of his ear causing him to shiver. His fisted his hands, knuckles turning a shade of white but he didn't touch.
The last note of the song finished. She was supposed to move, hands off his shoulders standing. But as she held his gaze she looked in amazement at the restraint he was showing. A tentative hand lay over his right pec. His warmth radiate through her. She traced his body and not once did he push her off, say anything or even touch her. She needed him to touch her, slowly and let her ease into this. Wherever this was going.
It was meant to be a job. Check her out and leave. Enzo was left in the office three doors down. One of his men stood outside the door he knew that. It as soft shaking hands touched his, undoing the tightness with which he balled his fists, placing them slowly on the curves of a waist he felt his resolve breaking. His hands clamped down on the scorching skin. He didn't care for getting burnt. One hand reached into her hair fisting a handful bringing her lips closer to his. And she tensed under him having him still.
It was like when ice cold water gets thrown on you. Or when you start gasping for air after being under water for so long. It washes over you and there's an uncomfortable sensation in your chest. That's what it felt like as he bought her closer. As she was getting closer to the end of her fight. She could do this.
PTSD.... resulting in.... take years.... phobia.... no certainty.
Echoes of conversations she paid little attention to swam through her head. The doctors would look at her sympathetically, she hated it. Resented the pity. Her hands in his shoulders dug in making him almost wince from the marks she would no doubt leave. As the anger rose the memories started toThe the fade and she found herself surprisingly relaxing. Relaxing into his touch and letting go. It was like there was nothing holding her back, there was no images flashing in front of her, no sounds of cries and laughs and no feeling of multiple hands holding her down. No she found herself consumed by a load of emotions. Emotions she was feeling now.
He saw it. Was was like lightning, quick and easy to miss. The determination laced with afraid. She was battling inside and so he let go. Let her take the reigns and have her with him. He would take whatever she would give. Meet her at her pace. Soft lips touched his, growing hungry with the seconds she fought anything conflicted in her. Her lips trailing down his jawline and over his jugular vein where she could undoubtedly feel the erratic beating of his heart. His want for her grew with the anticipation in the room. A finger delving into his shirt before unbuttoning it down with shaky hands.
Frustration burning in her movements as they became jerky. Hesitantly his hands ran up and down her back, reaching for the straps and pulling them down off her shoulders, they rested against her arms slack. His cold breath over her collar bones igniting goosebumps over her body. Her hands clawing at his torso as he kissed her neck, the apples of her breasts, the beauty spot that sat just above. Taking his time savouring the taste of her skin, he teased wanting to remember every small sound to escape her.
Undoing his slacks, her body more than ready as he feathered touches over her. Her pulse raced, she was sure she wasn't even breathing anymore as she raise her hips. Everything was coming to an end. The seconds to follow would let her lose herself to her inhibitions. Hands against in his shoulders to steady herself. His hands digging into her hips, he didn't try to guide her. He let her take charge. Her tempo, her pace, foreheads resting against each other they moved. The ribbon holding her mask undone and discarded revealing exposing the last of her to his gaze.
He watched in amazement. She took just as hard as she gave. The way her chest heaved, the way her eyes lightened, the way her hands mapped out every inch his body that she could reach. With each fleeting second she bought the to the drink of exploding. And she let go selfishly taking everything he was giving her. Losing herself in the feeling of him, basing in the heat of them. What felt like eternity passed as she tried to gather herself, she was spent. But there were no tears, no feeling of a climax that would have her going on a downward spiral.
She felt like herself. But brand new.
Her legs shook, a slight stinging sensation between her legs. She kicked her heels off. She worked effectively in the comfortable silence pulling herself together and grabbing g the discarded mask that sat near him. He left his shirt undone whilst sorting himself out. Back to her and the door as she took the seconds to make her exit.
It was one of those moments when he stilled. Heard a scuffling outside be door and was about to leap, grabbing hold of her hand to stop her from leaving. He had a question, one that was burning him. It was one of those moments of surprise when the door crashes open.
She felt herself fall. Her brain not yet registering the two men that had entered. Nor the gun pointed at her. Not the shot that hit her, her body slowly falling back.
It was the element of surprise. He was reaching for his jacket to follow after her. To find his gun in his hands shooting exactly two shots perfectly hitting his targets and pinning them to the ground. It was then he realised the blood, the commotion as the ringing in his ears dissipated. The frantic eyes of Enzo halting at the door, eyes widening at the sight. Because near the door struggling to keep her eyes her body lay covered in blood.
If she could she would have laughed. A complete stranger had led to her being shot. This pain grew in intensity and she was beginning to pain over the amount of blood she was losing. She wanted to talk, to show fate it would just be another time she would give it a middle finger an survive. She hated it, on problem than another. Instead she felt her eyes fluttering, a familiar looking blurry boy at the door before a shadow overtook her line of sight.
His body worked on auto pilot, rushing by her side, checking out the wound to see that it didn't go through and through. He remained as calm and collected as her could. It was lodged in her. The amount of blood she was losing worried him and like a maniac in a frenzy, he scooped her into his arms, shouting orders at his one surviving man and brother.
In those minutes Thalia realised the uncertainty of life, of second chances as her eyes fluttered to a close sending her into a blissful sleep.
There was a pulse, he checked, trying his damn hardest to keep alive. Because in those minutes he realised in the quiet ones, there's always more than what meets the eyes.