The Hearteyes Zone (A One-Shot Collection)

Crossroads

Note: Mild sexual content.
♡
Suppose you are an item. Think carefully, what is your price? How far would you go to have the things you’ve always wanted? To feed the word, to buy a home, to travel the globe.

Tonight, in a club that’s neither here nor there we find Amarea Simpson faced with this very question.

At The X on the corner of Rocky Street and Boulderville Square, a rock and a hard place if you will, be cautious of who you meet and most importantly.. be careful of what information you spill. This is The Hearteyes Zone.

—

Amarea downed the contents of her tall glass to the aggressive chant of her group, draining it until the chants turned to wild howls, making her howl along as though she were That Bitch, her fifth drink. She was lit. The club was full of Instagram models and comedians, YouTube personalities, upcoming rappers, and whisper singers. Amarea was sure she’d seen Selena Gomez and Kylie Jenner eighteen times. Everyone looked the same for the most part, but in her mind, she was different. She stood out with an entire face full of real freckles, thick and fiery ginger hair piled atop her head in a massive kinky bun, and lean long limbs making her look six foot though she was only 5'9 with her thigh high gladiator stilettos. She gained attention easily, relishing in her spotlight. How she wasn’t a signed model yet, she’d never understand.

“Bathroom,” she yelled over the music to her peer group of associates. “You’re gonna miss your song when they play it,” Denna cautioned, his bright blue hair reminding Amarea of a blue Mountain Dew or Gatorade. Of everyone there, he seemed to care the most for the people around him. Must be a cancer, she thought.

“Um, I’m not and I gotta pee. I’ll be right back.” She trekked to the restroom, treating the floor as her runway until she had to push and squeeze through people standing in her way.

“Hold up,” a deep rasping voice called and she turned to find a guy she’d never seen. She’d have definitely remembered him. “Yeah, I knew that was you. Amarea. I’ve seen you on the gram. Always said I’d shoot my shot if I met you.”

“Hm, well you’ve met me and we’re both cute, so?”

“So I’m a be right here waiting for you to get back. Looked like you were in a rush and the bathrooms are over there,” he pointed behind her in the direction she had been walking. With a turn, she cast a small smile over her bare shoulder before sashaying away, sure his eyes were still on her.

—

“How are you not signed? I don’t understand that,” Erik questioned in disbelief. He’d told her his name on the way to the VIP section. Turns out, she hadn’t seen him before because he wasn’t internet famous. He owned the club. She’d struck it lucky with a handsome and successful businessman.

“I don’t get it either. My portfolio is amazing and my look is unique. How many people do you see in here who look like me?”

“No one. You’d be great for representation.” He paused, his eyes narrowing in hesitation. “You know, I have connections. I could get your foot in the door.. get you on a runway. You know Loewe? Korto Momolu? I could get you there.. if you’re interested.”

“Of course I’m interested! You’d do that for me? You hardly know me.”

“You deserve it, you know what you want in life and you hungry for it. Only one thing I need from you and you can’t say no, okay?”

“Honey anything you want,” Amarea scooted closer to him on the booth, “You just say thre word.” Her smooth hand landed gently on his thigh.

“I want your soul,” Erik said with a slow lick of his full lips. “I can suck that muhfucka right on up out you.” Her shy laugh spoke her consent and he reached out for her hand which she happily placed in his. After giving it a passionate peck, his eyes caught hers in a trance, his smirk mischievous. Wordlessly she followed him to a private room and the second she crossed the threshold, he hoisted her up onto his shoulders, his head under her dress. He pulled the panties to the side and got to work, his tongue working magic. Amarea bit her lip, but it was of no use. She breathed his name like a prayer.

“Mm. You like this huh? You gone let me suck the soul out you and I’m a make you a real ass model? Hm?” He grunted between sucks and licks and she moaned as every peice of her said yes. Then the wave came, taking her over. It was a powerful orgasm that left her spent. He stood her up on her feet, holding her so she wouldn’t fall. “How do you feel now?”

“Feel? Feel…” She paused considering his words. “Feel. I don’t feel.” Her face was blank with this realization. She didn’t feel anything, not towards him or towards being a model. She didn’t care about anything.

“You’re gonna be a runway model, Amarea. You’re gonna do a few shows then a few tv appearances and repeat the cycle for the rest of your short, pathetic life. Then when you die, I’ll see you in hell. Be happy! If anyone asks, you’re ecstatic. Now get your desperate ass back to your table and entertain the social climbers you came here with.”

“Okay” Amarea shrugged leaving the room and then VIP, returning to her group with a plastered smile. Her group was none the wiser, a couple of them having already been drained with wishes like fame and popularity.

Left alone, Erik moved to his mirror to admire the body he’d snatched. This man was so attractive women jumped to sell their souls. Since he’d inhabited this body, sales had skyrocketed. He smiled at his reflection as his eyes turned jet black. At the corner of Rocky Street and Boulderville Square, he truly was King of The X.

The End.