The Gray City - Ryan Ross x Reader

Chapter One

-New York, 1934-

It was only October but the winter came early this year, in this gray city that New York had turned into. With her long, slim dress, the little pink hat and the elegant, brown Oxfords (Y/n) looked like any other respectable woman as she hurried down the street towards the Subway Station on the 110th street, on the upper end of Central Park. A gush of icy wind blew under her brown coat, making her shiver violently and the approaching night did nothing for her comfort.

She tried to think back to her tiny room, wondering if she had closed the window. It would be terribly cold tomorrow if she had forgotten to do so. (Y/n) lived in a room in a small apartment in East Harlem, sharing the kitchen and the bathroom with an Italian family of six. One would argue that this was barely the right environment for a young woman like (Y/n), but it was cheap and sometimes the family even shared their meals with her. And since her job barely paid enough for her to survive, she was glad to have even the smallest bits of support.

Finally she reached the entry to the station, quickly climbing down the stairs to the platforms. She was not late, not yet, but if she missed her train, she would be and her boss would probably fire her. God knew she could not afford being fired.

She reached the platform just in time and slipped on the train easily. Luckily most seats were free at this time in the evening so (Y/n) chose one close to the window and sat down, carefully straightening out her coat and skirt before doing so.

The train picked up speed between the stations and fifteen minutes later the young woman got up again, leaving at the Time Square Station. A turn left, one right, another left and down the 42nd Street until she was standing in front of a glowing sign that announced 'Night Paradise'. (Y/n) sighed quietly and turned into the small side street next to the entry of the reasonably good-looking hotel, knowing that the hotel business was only the disguise for the strip club that was located behind it.

(Y/n) reached a door that was well hidden in the wall, barely recognizable with the little light of the street lanterns. She knocked a few times and the door flung open, a young woman wearing a prune coat, opening the door.

"Oh, it's you," she noticed and stepped aside to let (Y/n) in.

"Good evening, Charlotte," (Y/n) greeted politely and stepped past the young woman into the narrow corridor.

Both girls followed the sound of laughter and the glimmer of light until they reached a small door that led to a backroom with numerous shelves and wardrobes. The room was filled with about twenty young women, all barely clothed, only wearing panties and bras decorated with feathers, stockings, or skin tight dresses that left barely anything to the imagination.

(Y/n) sighed quietly. Sometimes she wished she would work somewhere more respectable than a strip club. She was only a dancer on stage, away from the groping hands and slimy lips of the men who came every night to be entertained by New York's most beautiful women, but she still hated the preying eyes on her exposed skin. If anyone found out that she was working here, her reputation would be destroyed, not that she had one to begin with, but especially if the Dinapolis, the family she was living with, found out, they would kick her out of the room and she would have to stay on the street. So working here was better than not earning any money at all, but she could imagine things she would rather do.

Slowly (Y/n) pushed through the moving bodies and clouds of cheap perfume that was being applied, over to a section on one of the shelves that belonged to her. Neatly folded and untouched since yesterday night, her costume waited for her. She took of her coat, then her dress and her shoes. Lastly her socks and underwear followed until she was entirely naked. In the beginning she had felt horrified to undress herself in a room full of people, but there were not many other options. With skilled fingers (Y/n) pulled on the black stockings, the red sparkling panties and the matching bra. Carefully she pulled a golden colombiana mask out of the shelf, weighting the object in her hand. These masks, as beautiful as they were, were uncomfortable to wear. They were itchy around the eyes and pressed into sensible parts of the skin on her cheeks, so (Y/n) waited as long as possible until she put it on.