Something Special

Chapter 13

AN- Howdie guys. This chapters kinda hard to write as it includes prostitution. :/. I've tried to not include anything too offending but a little prewarning. So enjoy and tell me what you think in the comments.

Chow.

"Stop moving, you'll smudge it." A blonde women tells Tara, laying the black eyeliner on thick. ''I don't want it." She says, shifting uncomfortably. "And I don't want to be here but I'm not going to complain about it so neither should you." Tara doesn't say anything, just readjusts her red corset that was laced so tight she could barely sit down. She had on a short black skirt that just covered the tops of her thighs and showed the lace of her black knickers. With fishnet socks that cut off mid-thigh and 6 inch clunky heels she certainly looked the part of a hooker. But the scowl on her face betrayed her real emotions. Her hair was curled in loose ringlets that fall softly over her shoulder.

"Come on. It's nearly nine o'clock. We need to get you into the club. You'll be working one of the back rooms tonight so you won't be on the dance floor. You hand in all tips at the end of the night and don't go home with any of the guys. Threesomes are prohibited unless told otherwise and only one man in the room with you at one. Is that clear?" The women asks. Tara nods meekly, standing up gracefully in her heels. The blonde women throws a red silk dressing gown. "Put this on when you're not working." She gratefully wraps it round her and tightens it around her tiny waist. She had spent all day getting fixed by the ladies at crystals. Apparently she need to be checked of all STD's and things like that. She'd in the stinking hot changing room for nearly 2 1/2 hours so if was a relief when she was let out.

The blonde women leads her around the back of the main club and into a room. It was dimly lit with music playing loudly and a black and red interior. It had a large bed with silk sheets and a couple side sofas. Tara looks away in disgust as the women showed her various items including ropes and handcuffs. "I doubt you'll use them but you never know. Now play nice unless asked otherwise and give the men the time of there lives." And then Tara was left with her thoughts and a collection of flavoured lubes. WooHoo.

On the list of awful things Tara's father had done this must come close to the top. Selling his only daughter to a brothel for a night. For what!? A bit of cash. This man was diabolical. A complete and utter shit head. Tara was so angry she couldn't even think of words to describe him. Two breaths in. Two breaths out. Inhale. Exhale. Calm down. She sits in the sofa in the corner of the room and crosses her legs. 'You can do this. You've done it before.' She tells herself. 'To you this should be a breeze.'

She had only been waiting for 5 minutes when her door opens and her client wanders in. He was in his mid to late forties and oozed rich banker. He had a suit on and oily hair. In his mouth was a fat cigar. Tara stands up and saunters over to him. He smirks, "Take it off." he says, gesturing at her robe with his cigar. She does so and let's it drop to the floor. His eyes roam her body hungrily. The blonde lady had covered any bruises or scars with makeup and assured her that the clients wouldn't notice. The man prowls forward and pushes Tara onto the bed. "Smoke it." He says, putting the cigar into her mouth. Without hesitation she takes a deep breath of the toxic substance and resists the urge to cough as the tar burns her throat. She blows the smoke into his face slowly and smiles slightly. "It's a very nice cigar." Truth be told Tara despised it. It made her smell like her father and she really didn't want that. The man takes back the cigar and lies it in the ash tray in the side table before joining Tara on the bed. He crushes her lips with his, his hands roaming over her body. She shiver involuntarily as he pulls of her slutty skirt.

With fumbling fingers she undos his belt. His hand grabs her bum and the other takes bother her wrists. He puts them above her head and flattens her against the bed. She was completely defenceless as he straddles her. H pulls her black pants down to her ankles before doing the same to his trousers. She closes her eyes for the next part, clamping her jaw shut to stop herself screaming. His lips were on her neck and he was moaning into her. Once he was done he pulls his trousers up and picks his belt up from the floor. Just when Tara though he was off he swivels and grabs her by the jaw. He uses his belt as a whip and slashes it across her thigh. He then turns her and does the same thing on her near end. Obviously it hurts but the tears on her face weren't ones of pain but of embarrassment and shame.

He leaves £40 on the bed next to her before exiting the room. Tara retrieves her underwear and robe before taking £20 of what he left and shoving it in her bra part if the corset. She felt dirty and scummy. But mostly she felt unimportant. That man had a wedding ring on. He was a married man. Tomorrow he would go back to his family. And his nice home. He might take his dog out on a walk with his wife. Or teach his kids how to play footie. Maybe he would cook a roast and invite his mum and dad. And he wouldn't even think about the hooker he fucked the night before. It made Tara sick. She puts the rest of the money on the table next to the now empty ashtray and glanced at her reflection.

Her eyes her caked in black makeup and her skin was two shades more tanned then usual but she was still Tara. She smoothed her hair down and exits the room to grab a drink. The mini fridge in the back room for the girls was stocked with only alcoholic drinks. Tara grabs a vodka bottle and a couple bags of peanuts. She uses her teeth to open the bottle and spits it onto the floor without a second thought. The room was tacky and cold so she makes her way back to her room.

But she had only made it 20 meters when she spots a familiar face. Even with his back to her, she could recognise his laid back style and arrogant posture as he leans against a pillar. Alex.

................................................................

The back area of the club was sticky and humid. Buster had just gone in with a girl called Roxy. Inside Alex felt quite guilty, a prostitute! But then he saw his face light up as she kissed him and relaxed slightly. He'd gone to the back to get out of the immense crowds. Along one wall were doors. Most of the locked. There was some noises drifting out of the closest one to him so he tied to block out the noise. He had a meeting tomorrow with Michael Bay at The Savoy to talk about the movie he wanted Alex to be in. It filled him with giddy excitement when ever he thought about it. The last film he had done was a hit and he was still getting stopped in the streets wherever he went. His mum made him take bodyguards with him whenever he went out, though he had left the at the entrance.

His head was leaning against the pillars when he ears the clicking of heels behind him, like gunshots. He turns his head at the shadowy figure. She was hidden in the shadows, and he could only see her long legs and high heels. She had stopped just outside an open door. She darts into it, quick as a flash but before she could close the door he catches a glance of her face. And the realisation hits him like a freight train. Tara. The door slams and he stands there, his mouth gaping. What the hell. He goes to the door and bangs on it. "Tara." He calls out. "Open the door." She doesn't respond so he opens the door and barges in. She was sat on the bed with her back to him. He scrunched his nose at the tacky decor.

"Get out." Tara says, her voice muffled. "No. Not until you tell me what's going on Tara." He responds. She turns to look him in the eye. Her unusual golden eyes were lined with thick black liner and she wasn't as pale as usual. She had on a silk gown that covered most of her skin but he could see her chest heaving up and down. Her eyes were completely devoid of emotion and her face was expressionless. "You work here?" he asks not unkindly. She gives him a sidelong glance. "No. I just enjoy spending time here." She says sarcastically. Under normal circumstances he would of laughed. But he just gives her a stormy look. "I can't talk to you." She tells him, not making eye contact.

"Why not?" he enquires, his voice strained. "Because you're not a customer." She spits. Her chest heaves and he grimaces. "Fine." And without a word he turns and leaves. But he stops with his hand on the door knob. "I take it you didn't get those bruises from falling." He says, his voice blank. He didn't even have to hear Tara's response to know the truth.