Private Dance

Just Dance

The pulsing neon lights of The Velvet Lounge cast a seductive glow over the stage, where three women moved with effortless grace and confidence.
Diamond, Candy, and Chastity had become the club's main attraction, each bringing their unique allure to the floor.

Diamond, with her sharp tongue and fearless attitude, owned every inch of the stage. At 23, she thrived on the thrill of pushing boundaries and taking risks. Her dark, captivating eyes held a challenge for anyone who dared to meet them. She lived for the adrenaline, the danger, the excitement of the unknown.

Candy, at 28, was the seasoned veteran among them. Her movements were sultry and precise, reflecting her experience and maturity. She exuded a quiet strength, masking her growing desire to leave this life behind and find a more stable path.
But every night, she put on her game face and danced with a grace that captivated the room.

Chastity, the youngest at
19, had an air of innocence that belied her bold choice to drop out of
college and pursue
dancing. Her Latina
heritage shone through in her every move, a vibrant blend of passion and elegance. Her strict,
conservative parents had no idea about her double life, believing she was still immersed in her studies.

Tonight, as they performed their final routine, their eyes caught a well-dressed man sitting alone in a private booth.
His intense gaze never left them, and when the set ended, he approached with a proposition.

"I'm looking for a private show," he said, his deep voice carrying a hint of authority. "Just the three of you, at my place.
There's good money in it for you."

The girls exchanged glances. Private gigs meant big tips and fewer eyes. Diamond was the first to nod, her fiery spirit eager for the adventure.
Candy hesitated, her desire to break free battling with the lure of quick cash. Chastity, uncertain but intrigued by the promise of the night, finally agreed.

They followed the man, whose name they learned was Marcus, to his sleek black car and headed to his upscale townhouse.
The interior was opulent, a stark contrast to the gritty streets outside. Marcus poured drinks and turned on soft music, setting a mood that was both luxurious and intimate.

The girls began their dance, their movements fluid and synchronized, filling the room with a tantalizing energy. Marcus watched with an intensity that made Chastity's skin prickle. As the dance ended, he singled her out.
"Chastity," he said, his voice low and inviting.
"Come with me to the bedroom. I'd like a more private dance."

Chastity hesitated. She had agreed to dance, but nothing more. She followed him reluctantly, feeling Diamond's watchful eyes on her back. In the dimly lit room, Marcus closed the door behind them, the click of the lock sending a shiver down her spine.

"Just dance," she told herself, swaying to the music. But Marcus had other ideas. He moved closer, his hands reaching out to touch her. She flinched, stepping back.
"No," she said firmly. "I'm here to dance. That's it."

Marcus's expression darkened, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. Chastity struggled, her heart racing with fear. When he tried to kiss her, she screamed, the sound piercing the quiet  night

The door burst open, and Diamond and Candy rushed in. Diamond, her face a mask of rage, grabbed a heavy lamp from the bedside table and swung it with all her strength. The blow landed with a sickening thud, and Marcus crumpled to the floor, motionless.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the harsh breathing of the three women. Reality crashed in, and they stared at Marcus's still body, the gravity of their actions sinking in.
"We need to go," Candy whispered, her voice trembling. "Now."

They fled the townhouse, their hearts pounding with fear and adrenaline. As they disappeared into the night, they didn't notice the security camera that had captured their every move. The next morning, the news would be filled with reports of a mysterious death, and the police would have a clear image of the three women fleeing the scene.

As they drove away, the weight of what had happened pressed down on them. They were no longer just dancers; they were fugitives. The road ahead was uncertain and dangerous, and there was no turning back.
To be continued...