It takes me a while to get into my working mood tonight, my body keeps telling me to go the fuck to sleep and my mind is too tired to argue about that. The can of the caffeinated drink I gulp down and chuck into the bin that's located right in the center of our locker room does help with the tiredness.
At least with the physical one.
In the end, I know I'll push through regardless.
As if I have any other choice, right?
With my outfit in blue and one more pinhole from the syringe in my arm, I make my way to the poker tables and pool tables to join a game of Poker that Crystal and Rose have started with a few older men.
They're usually my least favorite kind of people, the ones rubbing themselves against my body while I bend over the pool table during a game, or the ones pulling me onto their lap or groping me without ever asking for a word of permission, like when I'm casually walking by and minding my own business.
Seriously, how do they not grasp that this sort of behavior is far from okay, nor sexy or alluring?
I hate this place so much, and if I could, then I swear I would burn it to the fucking ground. For all the things that happened to me in this building, it deserves to go up in flames and take everyone in here down with it.
For a while, I play with them, but lose my focus pretty quickly as none of the clients seem to show any substantial interest in me. Let's be real, I have better things to do than waste my time making no money at all. With that mindset, I decide to get on the stage to at least catch someone's attention.
However, I never get that far, since a similar silhouette, who seems to have been sitting by the bar, approaches me quickly before I manage to reach the steps leading to the poles. His well-built, tall figure and sophisticated appearance are so unusual to spot in this establishment that it almost looks out of place.
Staged.
Like a costume.
Like the night before, he seems annoyed, but his demeanor seems to have changed, even if only slightly. He doesn't seem as uncertain about his goals anymore. Nevertheless, the way he is walking directly towards me is still intimidating. With a deadly gaze right into my eyes, he rushes over and grabs me strongly by the arm.
Unfortunately, it's the arm with the huge, makeup-covered bruise on it, and he squeezes it just at the right spot to make me hiss silently as I throw a furious glare back at him, my mood plummeting immediately.
What an asshole.
"Do you have time? Mind helping me out for a moment?" he growls at me and lets go of the arm I rip free from his grip with notable force. Despite my honest thoughts wanting to spit in his fine face, I clench my jaw instead, nodding without a verbal response.
With that having been our only words of agreement, I let him lead me back to where my dedicated room is located.
Sure, I could have been all friendly about it and tried making some small-talk to ease the tension, but his attitude tells me he's not in the mood for that either.
"You know what to do," he speaks indifferently, somewhat angrily and sighs, placing some money on the dresser. Before I take off my clothes and with my fingers already hooked under the seam of my see-through shirt, I hesitate for a moment.
I am willing to take a lot of shit from customers, but especially in moments like this, where I'm riled up from both the drugs and irritated by his stupid attitude towards me, I will speak up.
YOU ARE READING
Myocardium
Ficção Geral"When the night fades into dawn's palette..." Sex, drugs and the death-dealing pressure to make money night after night - It's a steep, downward spiral which 20-year-old Elijah Everdeen has found himself stuck in ever since his parents died. If it w...
