His, and His Only

1

The air filled with intensity when I first saw him enter the club, a posse was behind him, clearly he's a leader of some sort, or has power. I was sitting on the bar counter, wearing a new outfit, new haircut, new name. He was wearing a white button up, a dark red vest, and a black tie with a matching black coat. He pulled off his coat and handed it over to the waitress with a nod, then a small smile. He held a cigar in his teeth and a dancer ran up to him and held up her lighter. He graciously accepted the flame with a slight chuckle then lit his finger on fire for her to see, causing her to giggle.

"Hmm," I mumbled to myself while admiring his flame, his bright blue eyes shot over at me in an instant. Suddenly, the music slowed down, the flashing lights turned to a blur, everyone's voices seemingly fell silent. As he released his first hit, letting smoke gently leave his lips, he started walking over towards me, completely ignoring the dancer he was originally talking to. She jumped to one of the men in his posse right behind him instead with no problem. 

That's how the game is here, you can't take offense to being rejected on either side. If you do take offense to being rejected, you'll fall into a trap. Little did I realize I was about to be trapped by him whether I accepted rejection gracefully or not.

He walked over to me and extended his hand out, while staring up into my eyes. The scent of tobacco hitting my nose and his cologne causing me to get goosebumps. I gave him a small smile and bit my lip.

I already felt trapped. I had played this game so many times in other places, many other clients, many other opportunities. Yet the way his eyes looked, full of understanding, kindness, but most of all, deep pain. I of course wanted to know him and his story yet I knew this was just a game of legs tangling together like other times.

A transaction, a sale, a simple business agreement for pleasure, sometimes pain, sometimes both. You can't bring emotions into a game like this. Money and power play are at stake, it's too risky. But he doesn't care enough to play the unspoken rules of this game. Life is his own game. He is a god and we are all his subjects to play with. To taste. To fuck. To own.

I placed my hand in his and pushed myself off the counter I was sitting on with a gentle bounce. I looked up at his tall stature with a blush. He gave a smirk at noticing my blush and we walked together to the bouncer.

"I want an hour to start with, in the champagne room," he said with a strong but soft and low voice.

"That will be 300$ entry, 600$ cash payment to the dancer," the bouncer said.

He handed the bouncer his card and immediately handed me 600$ in cash, which I folded and stuffed into my knee sock right away. He then wrapped his arm around my waist and we walked back to the most expensive VIP room in the club together, the red lights shining our way up the steps.

"Tell me your name," he said as he closed the door, turning to me. He looked me up and down in want, then back into my eyes with a head tilt.

He gave me chills with his subtle movements, like he's a hunter studying his prey before he bites.

I gave him a cutesy smile, "my name is Rose-" I started.

"Your real name, darling," he said immediately as he stroked my hair, then ran his fingers down my bare back.

"My name is _____," I whispered shyly, glancing at his lips, then back into his eyes.

He gave an almost wicked smile for a split second, biting his lip, then going to a smirk, then ran the back of his nails up my spine, gripping the back of my hair and pinning my body against the wall with his. He licked the corner of his mouth as he gently pushed himself against me, "such a beautiful name," he whispered against my ear.

I gulped from the sudden movements and felt my entire body heat up, "what is your name?" I asked while staring at his neck, his lips, then into his eyes again.

"Dabi."