Velvet (Niall Horan)

Velvet

Charismatic.

Savory.

Confident.

Dark.

A compliance of words that could just barely begin to describe the texture of my personality, yet so many men and women chose to use.

Velvet.

That was what they called me, my stamp, as everyone referred to it as.

From the minute I was discovered; Lloyd had said that my dark, long, wavy locks, were enough to beckon for my name to be revealed.

He also said my curves and smooth skin would be enough to drive a man crazy, not even asking for my name.

Velvet.

It suited me as well as any other word possibly could, I guess, others chose to refer to me as evil, and sinister, but always ended up crawling back for my soft touch, ignoring my lightlessness, referring back to my stamp.

What others saw was gloom within me, apparently, but I always seemed to have reoccurring customers.

I didn't feel the gloom, I think. Its not that I hated what I did, in fact, I enjoyed it quite a bit.

People thought I was miserable, that I thought I was going to be stuck in that shithole for the rest of my life, but little did the judgmental pricks know, I could've done whatever the hell my heart desired.

I'm smart, I'm not a bimbo like half the girls I work with. I can carry my own.

And who's to say I was actually miserable?

I was fucking good at my job.

I also liked the deep persona I maintained, I could keep up a big, sturdy, wall, and no one could break it down.

And I definitely loved being in control, my sex appeal being able to wrap any man around my small finger.

That's really how the world works, sex, money, and more sex.

Luckily, I was in the industry that captured the world's biggest desires into one building.

I wasn't embarrassed, and I didn't want to change. Being a stripper was a way of life, my way of life.

And with that, I welcome you into my kingdom, The Crescent.