The Strip - Collection

Roxan - Sample

The following is an unedited draft of The Strip - Roxan / Chapter 1

Warning - Roxan's life sucks and content in this sample shows it. Some readers may find some of this uncomfortable or downright triggering.

Not everyone's road follows a scenic route with gentle curves and hills. My journey to the stage at The Strip was rough and twisted, and far too dangerous for comfort. Guardrails I had trusted had failed and it may have only been blind luck that kept me alive when I hit the bottom.

I'll skip all the childhood shit as well as my first few jobs in the business and jump right to the night I realized how fucked up my life had become. I was working at a club called Coco, against strong advice to stay clear of that shit hole, and was sporting my usual pre-work buzz when I staggered into the lounge that Friday evening.

Except near the stage and performance areas, the lounge in Coco was dark, which worked well to cloak the filth that coated the chairs and carpet. No matter how dim the lighting, there was no hiding the dank smell of sweat and beer vomit that oozed from every surface. Private rooms in the back weren't any better and the only people that were scummier than the clients were the owner and his minions.

"Brooke, finally you're here. Hector is looking for you," Quinn, the bartender said. "You have a party."

Hector, the club owner, approached me from behind. I swear he leaves a trail of oily slime everywhere he walks, and the smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes do a poor job of masking his stale body odor. Quinn had given me enough warning to regret going in to work but not enough to change my mind and leave. I heard him scurry up and waited for his hands to reach around and grab my tits. I was pushed up against the bar and felt his body press against mine. He thrust his hips a few times, humping me while his hands got reacquainted with my chest. His groin lingered against my ass while his mouth hung at my neck, stagnant breath wafting over me as a sickening moan. His tongue probed my ear and I could feel his saliva dribbling down my earlobe.

"You ready, bitch? There's a group of guys coming in and they want to party with you." He stepped away.

"How many?" My legs were a little wobbly, but I was fine. Totally fine. My knees involuntarily sort of bent but a hand on the bar steadied me and I was fine. Drunk, by the way, not weak in the knees because of his advances, although I might have become intoxicated by his breath had he kept belching out toxins near me.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, I wanna know how much I'm gonna make." I nodded at Quinn then gazed at the rack of liquor bottles. "Black and Blue."

Quinn glared back at me from the other side of the bar and tilted her head before turning her eyes towards Hector. "Her tab is already over 500!"

"She's good for it. Aren't you, Brooke? She's gonna pay it off doing this party tonight."

Brooke tipped a bottle of Blue Ball - Dark Blue Rum to pour a shot, then noticed my fingers indicating a double and let another shot pour in while mixing in a splash of cola. Coco isn't big on mixing things right. A proper Black and Blue would have a glass half filled with cola, followed by Dark Blue Rum and topped off with a few ice cubes. At least, that's how the Blue Ball webpage tells it, and the pictures look so cool. But, in the end, my habit didn't care as long as it gave me a buzz.

I passed my purse over the bar for Quinn to hide then snagged the glass from the bar. In one long pull I knocked back the drink and let the booze tingle its way down my throat before asking again, "How many? And, how long?"

Hector's hand grabbed my throat and a gruff voice growled in my ear, "As many as fuck'n there are and as long as they fuck'n want. Stop asking questions, bitch! That guy over there, in black. That's your boss tonight. He owns you tonight."