Well, you'll never believe the story I've got to tell you. It contains some dragons, curses and affairs, as well as one confusing backstory. Interested? Well, come on in...
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Seth's pov:
" This one's nice, how much is he? " " Sorry, sir, our boy Seth isn't that type of dancer. " " Oh, too bad. The boy's got nice body. Heh, guess I'll have to find another toy. "
I sighed in annoyance as my boss turned down another rich snob. The man looked like he was an affair child of satan and a donkey, and smelled like something that could only come out of hell. The sweat was rushing down his face down to his chest, which resembled a bush with how hairy it was.
His description isn't even that special. I have to sit here and see men like him every. single. day. They think that few coins can buy them everything they ever desire, and that ones lower their rank are worthless. Worst of all, those idiots have a thing for keeping too many "lovers ". They'll come to our bar and ask for us to join them, which can be translated to " you're attractive, I want to have sex with you, I'll throw you from my life later ". Also apparently according to them every single dancer is a horny low life who dreams to at least sniff the money they have. Bleh.
And that stereotype has to be tested on me too, because every day I have to listen to those pricks' " little fantasies " involving me. I don't even get why they like me appearance wise. Sure, not an ugly face here, but other then that I look pretty... Normal? Black hair, green eyes and few freckles, with skin darker than usual. Body is pretty much generic for everyone in our club, so yeah, guess I just happen to be the first to catch their attention and make " the sword rise " as they like to call it.
It's not like I hate rich people, it's more like... Wanting to see them burn and get tortured? No okey, that's too sadistic, even for my semi messed up mind. I just don't like them, guess family genes don't pass. My mom loved rich people, or should I say liked the fact that they were rich and people. She'd hop on every rich men who'd throw a glance at her, just to get the " fancy " looking dress she saw at the market she passed by.
I'd be completely okey with her " profession " if she cared about me. She'd just throw the pieces of bread she found from ground, tastes awful might I add, and just put me in a box and hope I won't bother her. She completely hated me, told me that because of her pregnancy no one would want her " goods ". She then found a man that I don't even know the name of, told me she was getting married, only to be never seen again.
The only person who actually seemed to give shut about me was Ora, who just happens to be my boss. She is an old woman, probably in her 50s, but she's the awesome woman you'll ever meet. Few years ago, I was left to streets by my " mom " and stumbled across this bar. She saw me and hugged me, which was the first time someone ever did that to me. She fed me and asked me if I could dance, to which I replied that I could not, which led her to teaching me everything she knew. I learnt fast, and was thrilled when she offered me a place to stay and eat.
Though sadly, the bar has been struggling lately because of the King shutting up places with little income. Ora got the place from her husband after he died, and the money he left was already running out. The bar's popularity was decreased because she didn't want to sell the dancers. Sexual acts were not allowed and left many visitors groaning. Hey, what else did you expect! This is a dance bar, not a strip bar!
