A Letter to Charlie: A Spark Before Dying Flash Fiction Tale

A Letter to Charlie: A Spark Before Dying Flash Fiction Tale by Tina Glasneck

Note: This story was composed for an interactive game in OpenSim.

Dear Charlie, 

You can't change a monster into a man, and I should have known that when Otto walked into the club and smiled at me.  

He didn't ogle me, like the others. Instead, he pulled up a chair, and leaned back, as I danced to the rhythm. Under his lecherous scrutiny, I moved with more energy, teasing my audience with my gyrating hips and body rolls.  

When the music ended, and after I collected the flurry of dollar bills that had rained down, I gathered the array of clothes I'd discarded during my routine and making eye-contact with no one, I hurried off the stage and into the shadows. 

There he lurked. 

"Your song ended too soon," Otto said and licked his lips. Although attractive in his own right with almost sculpture-like features and hair perfectly combed to the side, his grey-eyed gaze glinted with depravity. 

"So what's your name?" he asked. 

Pushing past, I sought to ignore him, until he grabbed my arm.  

"I don't think you're supposed to touch me, unless you plan on paying for it," I said matter-of-factly. After hours of shaking my derrière in search of a couple of dollars, I didn't want to waste my time on a man, who couldn't afford to even see my thong. 

"How much is it then? How much to own you?" he whispered in my ear. His words stung worse than flames on my exposed skin.  

"So, getting to know the talent, huh Otto?" Jesse, the club's manager asked, slapping Otto on the back. "Rose, this is going to be your new...what's the word, um, friend. He'll look out for you and you'll look out for him." He winked. 

"What do you mean?" I snapped. I'd never had a benefactor (of sorts) like some of the other girls.  

Jesse grabbed my face and squeezed until my lips pouted like a fish. "You questioning me again?"  

His voice seemed to reverberate with anger. I knew not to ask questions. He liked to punish women or anyone in his employ, and questions just gave him more excuses to use brutality.  

"No, not at all," I mumbled and cast my gaze down towards the floor.  

With a soft slap to my face, Jesse released me from his grasp and sauntered away. 

"You ready to talk now?" Otto squinted and my stomach jumped into my throat, lodging there. He wrapped his arm around my waist as if Jesse's announcement made me his possession.  

"I have to go change," I said and pushed against him until he released me, hurrying away to the dressing room where the other girls would be. 

"What took you so long to get back here," Charlie asked, zipping up her skin tight leather pants to match her leather and lace corset.  

"Jesse wanted to introduce me to someone," I said. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. We knew what that meant when someone was introduced...it never meant anything good.  

"Do you have to go to him tonight?" Charlie whispered. 

"He didn't say." But I was sure that's what Jesse's introduction meant. 

As if time hadn't stopped, we all went back to our day, our routines, filled with lap dances, cheap sparkling wine, and men that stank of old alcohol and cigarettes. The hours ran into each other, until the shift was over and it was time to leave. 

There Otto stood, waiting.  

"I think I gave you the wrong impression of me," Otto said, pulling a yellow sunflower from behind his back. He smiled a crooked smile and opened the fire door to the outside, where a dark tinted sedan waited. 

It all felt sketchy, but I wasn't sure if it was my hesitation or the thought that several men had appeared on the scene, hoping to have their version of PRETTY WOMAN. 

He wasn't Richard Gere, and this wasn't Hollywood. 

"I don't do dates?" I said, hoping to bypass his overenthusiastic gesture. 

"I know. It's a business transaction and I would like your advice." 

"My advice?" I paused mid-step.  

"Yeah, I'm the new kid on the block and I just want a chance to make some friends, and I think you and I could be friends, really good friends." 

"I have enough friends." 

"I'm sure you do, but what you don't have are friends that can help you get out of here." 

My heart thrashed against my ribs, beating them. It was a desire I'd never uttered, because if I did, I couldn't take it back. What good is it to hope and long for something, but never be able to make it happen? I had to be happy with the mediocre versus the dream of having something better. 

"What is this going to cost me?" 

"Companionship, nothing more. Like I said, I need friends." 

"And what is this going to cost you?" 

"You don't worry about that. I have that covered."  

Over the days that followed, Otto was everywhere...hand written notes of adoration accompanied flower bouquets and he was always there, wearing me down.  

What woman doesn't like a little manly attention and kindness? Slowly, I felt a part of me start to melt and I started to believe and hope for a better future.  

I'd love to say that I didn't believe what he said about me and us becoming one. I fell for his charming words, and promises. I believed him when he first pronounced his adoration, as my hands danced on his skin and he made me feel free in a world of sexual slavery. He held my heart in the palms of his hands, and then he let it fall.  

We were to escape, to make a run for freedom, but freedom isn't free. After leaving the club's dressing room tonight, I raced out to him, and told him that I had to leave, I needed to leave, but instead of a calm, soothing embrace he'd once given me, he'd replaced it with his fist. 

I fought back with all that I had, with all that was within me. I fought hoping that I could be strong enough to escape the torrid path I'd grown accustomed to. Instead, he cursed me and pushed me into his car. As tears fell down my swelling and bruised face, and the scenery blurred around me, I pleaded for him to give me a chance.  

"I can't let you go, Veronika." His harsh voice shook with emotion.  

I wished and prayed for an escape, for a chance to fly away, while he continued to spew words of toxic affection - words I'd so longed to hear only days ago. 

"Just let me go ... I won't tell. I promise." 

"What good is a junkie's promise or a criminal's love? I tell you I love you, and you want to leave? You want me to let you go, and then what? What about me? You're just like all the others!"  

Others? I'd never known about his being with someone else, but I'd also never asked. I'd accepted him into my heart because I was told to, and unquestioning, I'd allowed him to make me long for a normal life. 

"I can't let you go," he said. "I love you too much for you to leave me." 

As he caressed my face, I sought to pull away from his touch, a touch I once cherished. It's weird to wish for love...I guess I should have been more specific in those prayers, right? Love isn't love and maybe I should have been leery of his promise of freedom...everything comes with a cost, even affairs of the heart. 

Love, 

Veronika