The Sinful Ones » Prince Nelson

{ ii. } Sunset Driver

1983 Saturday, Minneapolis

After paying the taxi driver and retrieving my things from the back seat of the vehicle, I stood in front of my apartment and let out a sigh. Currently, it was around two am in the morning and my loins aches in exhaustion and pain. I felt like I had pulled a muscle, probably the hamstring in my leg from moving around the pole earlier. Not that many men were at the club tonight night, which was strange considering it was a Saturday and other than Friday's it was the most popular night.

      I decided not to dwell too much on the near vacancy of the club and made my way up to my apartment. While walking sorely up the stairs I caught sight of my neighbor Mr. Flores coming from where I was heading. His flushed face and panting breath made me believe that he was in a rush so I didn't bother stopping him for a conversation. It's not that I wanted one at the moment anyway.

   Mr. Flores rushed past me without acknowledgment leaving me unbothered and allowing me to continue to head up the stairs. The familiar smell of lavender air freshener hit me once I walked through the door and locked it behind me. My apartment was simple enough — consisting of two bedrooms, a bathroom, a well designed kitchen and living room.

    Prince had thought it was too small and made fun of it for a few days until I threatened that considering he didn't like it so much that maybe he shouldn't come over. Naturally, he wasn't so fond of the idea and put a stop to the insults against my apartment. Thinking of him so suddenly made me erase him from my brain just as quick. Once I set my purse and outfit onto the leather couch in my living room, I began to retreat to the back.

   It was brutal working such long hours at night, having no social life because of the constant hours. Nonetheless, the friends I did have before I got into stripping thought it was completely stupid idea and didn't want to be associated with someone who had a career so scandalous. I only served them with an eye roll and their free walking papers.

   Dispersing the thoughts of those friends from my mind, I opened the door to my bedroom and tiredly stripped of my clothes. Completely bare I slid underneath the covers with the room remaining in pitch black and sighed to myself. Tonight started off well; having a nice brief conversation with Michael was comforting. But considering his obvious fame it was a slim chance we would cross paths again. Realistically, I was alright with that fact—

     "You sleep naked?"

    Like clockwork, the invisible dial counting the pulse of my heart shot to the opposite side and had me jumping up to turn on the lamp beside me. Instinctively my arm shot out to slam against the side of the culprits face and successfully hit my target. My heart still remained at an uncontrollable rate when the person exclaimed in pain but it was only when they spoke again that I recognized the voice.

       "What the fuck Dana!" Prince called in pain.

       "Are you fucking crazy — How did you get into my house?—" I questioned in fury to the man with angered eyes beside me. At this point, I could officially conclude that he was insane without any mislead doubt.

      Prince took the silent pause to sit up from his lying position and scooted up beside me, "You gave me a spare."

    "Why are you here?" That was the real question I wanted answered. What gave him the right to sneak into my home and nearly give me a heart attack in the middle of the night without any notice.

    "I wanted to say sorry." He began with a weak shrug.

    I am like a fish out of water, "..and you couldn't bother to call to tell me that?"