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A/N - please don't press play on the song above just yet bbys. I'll tell you when you should at some point in the middle of the chapter!
Six months later.
Tonight—you were the sexiest that you could ever possibly be. You were as sexy as every natural bloom, as pretty as a meadow flower, as free as springtime blossom-rain. And somehow all of that was in your perfume; creating the most welcoming and intoxicating haze for everyone's brain to rest in. The aroma was the bed that these horny men had been desperately seeking all their lives, one they wanted to stay in forever.
"Are you ready, Miss?" One of the women backstage asked you; wearing her headset. Tonight, you were a special guest performer for the grand opening of this new casino in Yokohama. The owner wanted you to be tonight's entertainment. It was an opportunity and offer that you just couldn't possibly refuse. You adjusted the straps of your sexy black dress on your shoulders, as you slowly nodded your head in response. She then turned to the people working behind the scenes, firmly clicking her fingers. "Alright then. Open the curtains."
You gulped as the crimson curtains slowly opened, and in the midst of this momentary darkness, warm white spotlights shined down on you in a blink—revealing your beautiful, exotic form with a bedazzled microphone in your hand; the gems matching the colour of your dress. And as the music fluttered through the air slowly from the jazz band playing to your left—the show had officially begun.
Raising the microphone slowly to your lips—you began to sing like an alluring siren; managing to hypnotise practically everyone here. In the casino were all the signs of brains hooked on the neuro-chemicals of hope, the kind that was supposed to light up for your loved ones, for a good harvest or for a hunter's chance to bring home a deer. Here, they were hijacked to allow the rich to pick the pockets of the desperate, to reach deep enough in to pull out their homes, their savings and plunge them far, far into the fiery hell of debt. The compulsive gamblers that plagued the vicinity were caught on invisible cerebral hooks—everywhere you looked as you sung was a sad story of what society's money-nexus did to the human brain and spirit. Everywhere you looked were folks being seduced into destitution.
There was something strangely beautiful about that.
You continued to sing as men had simultaneously seemed to gather around you; all clad in fancy suits; suits that none of them could possibly afford, and if they could, it was because they had won them in some nasty gambling match that rendered their opponent worthless and homeless. You were scanning the audience. So many myriads of faces, like beads on a bead-work pattern; all bead-work, in different layers. Most of the men currently ogling at you were small and roundish; unappealing to the eye. It made you want to vomit, especially knowing that these men had nothing but dirty thoughts currently running through their sick heads as they watched you. Knowing that you made their small dicks hard. Knowing that they thought of you, late at night, while they jerked off to the image of you that they had painted and undressed in their minds. Pathetic. You were way out any of their leagues. You were beautiful, enchanting, bewitching. And they—they were all sad, pathetic, worthless losers who could never get such a delicacy and rarity like you no matter how many matches they had won and how many opponents they had bankrupt. You were an exotic fruit that not even the elite could ever possibly get a taste of.
