Playtoy

Three: A Strange Request..

Azaelia twirled the knob and opened the door. The sight before her left her shocked. She stilled in her foot steps, staying rooted in the same place - which was right under the door frame.

The room was empty. No longer were there any dancers, annoying horny men sitting around the round couch and lastly, there was no sign of the mysterious handsome stranger who had asked for another cup of whiskey.

For a moment, Azaelia furrowed her eyebrows and really thought about it. 'Had she walked in the room wrong perhaps?' She quickly recollected herself and took two steps backwards - looking out down the hall to see there were no other rooms accompanied. It would've had a sign on it notifying the workers that someone was using the room.

How odd. 'They just got up left?' She thought. She didn't even see them leave out the front.

Well that was a waste of whiskey... she huffed and looked around her surrounding. When the coast was clear to her, she tipped the glass cup back and shot back the whiskey. The minute it hit her throat she grimaced and closed her eyes.

The drink left behind a sting at the base of her throat. Oddly enough, she liked it. She never drank before. This whiskey shot was her first drink ever. And contrary to what she has heard from everyone else - who said alcohol tasted like literal shit - was wrong. She liked the taste and the feeling of her throat slightly burning. Reminding you that you just took a shot.

She now understood the whole hype about drinking. As a matter of a fact, Azaelia wanted to be sneaky and shoot back another glass - but she didn't. She turned around and made her way back towards the bar.

She was almost close to the back door way that leads to the front of the bar when she bumped into a firm chest - her nose breaking her fall. Azaelia gasped, taking a step back and holding her stinging nose. The pain traveled to her head and her eyes tested up a little. She looked up to find the culprit and quickly straightened herself out when she made eye contact with Roger.

"Roger! You scared me! Um.. w-what,' she cleared her throat, "what can I do for you?" She asked, tangling her fingers behind her back - hiding the empty glass cup.

He lightly chucked, raising a brow down at the caramel vixen in amusement. "You're not slick Leya, I see that glass behind your back." He continued to chuckle and shook his head. "Do me a favor and come see me in my office right now. But put that glass back before." He winked and patted her shoulder before excusing himself.

She puffed a breath of air out blowing the fallen hair around her face away from her. Roger's nickname for Azaelia was "Leya". The only reason why he called her that was because he had a dog named Azaelia and the kids could never get her name right so they stuck to calling her Leya. And somehow that reminded him of Azaelia. Sad part about that memory was the dog died.

And he calls Azaelia after his dead dog Leya. Just peachy.

She quickly walked to the back of the bar, setting down the cup and then quickly making her way towards Rogers office. She knocked before entering and smoothed down her skirt. 'Come in', and that was her que to enter.

She saw him sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair a little. He gestured for her to sit down and she quickly closed the door and sat down in front of his desk. "Is there something wrong?" She quietly asked. Fear was evident in her tone.

He quickly took note of the worry in her eyes and reassured her. "Oh no no! None of that now Leya. I just called you in here because I happened to get a very strange request today," he said. Grabbing his stress ball and began throwing it back and forth between his hands.

"A request?" Azaelia questioned slightly confused.

Roger nodded and set his stress ball back down. "Yeah, it was very odd. This man had requested for you," he concluded.

Azaelia was taken back. She cocked her head to the side a little - confused at this sudden outburst. "Wait what?"

"Yeah, he just came up to me and asked if you dance privately, and when I had told him you weren't a dancer,' - Azaelia's identity was protected whenever she danced, that is why this sudden request if she was a private dancer had shocked both Azaelia and Roger -, "he just... well I don't know actually. He knew you were and asked for you privately. Unfortunately for you and me, I didn't get his name. Even though I did ask him, he just ignored me and said he'll be back. And when he does come back, he'll be waiting for you in one of the rooms."

"B-b..but are you sure that he was talking a-about me?" She questioned.

"Yes. He knew your name Leya. He asked for you specifically."

She quickly shook her head and bit her lip. "No! No way! I-I don't show m-my face! How the hell...," she managed to stutter out. She quickly got lost in her own world, trying to put the pieces together to how in the living heck did this 'stranger' knew her name and that was she a dancer and had the audacity to request for her to dance for him privately next time.

Request... no, forget that. From the way Roger explained his and that's mans conversation, that man more like demanded Azaelia to dance privately for him.

She knew she was an 'exotic dancer' - more like stripper according to society - but that was only and always only for the crowd of people in the club. And that was it. She had said before she applied to work at the club that she would do no private dances and that she asked Roger if she could wear a mask to hide her identity. One, for her safety. Two, for the mystery and lastly three, just to have a part of herself that isn't related to the stripping world.

So to hear that she was requested to dance privately had shocked her behind words. She was nervous and didn't want to agree to it. However, Roger is the boss and can basically make her dance whenever, wherever and on whoever he wanted. Although he never did, she knew he has the power around the club.

And like who in the hell was this man.. coming in here and demanding for her to dance for him.

She pulled herself back out of her daze and looked at Roger who seemed to be in a daze of his own. "Well.. well what are you going to do? Am.. am I going to dance for him?" She mumbled the last part - afraid of his response.

She heard him sigh and smack his lips together. "This is what we're going to do, tomorrow you're shift starts at 8:30. You have stage time. You're going to go on stage and perform, no private dances." The look of relief flooded her face but quickly vanished at his next response. "But, Leya.. if that man does come back and ask for you privately... it's out of my hands. You know it's good for business and besides I wouldn't make you do anything uncomfortable as in attire wise. Dance for him for thirty, get your tips and leave. But! But.. that is only if he does come back and ask for you again." Roger concludes.

He looked at Azaelia who seemed a little distraught but still managed to nod her head and a mutter a small 'okay'. He ran his fingers through his hair and dismissed her, and reassured her that it was going to be fine once again.

She closed the door behind her, the soft thud followed soon after indicating that it was fully closed. Roger leaned back in his chair, reaching for his stress ball slinging it back and forth between his hands once again.

He sighed and threw his head back against the head of the chair. Tomorrow night was about to eventful... and if only they both knew what was in store for Azaelia that night.

It was going to change everything. If only he had gotten that mans name. He seemed really important from the amount of men that were standing behind him as if to scout the area and protect him whenever needed.

Roger scoffed at his thoughts. As if he needed protection.. that man seemed like he could battle mountain lions and still come out on top. He cursed - squeezing the stress ball in between his hand. Those men were probably behind him seeking his protection. And on top of all of that, he seemed rich. Like filthy rich.

Roger has seen many rich men in his days, and none of them seemed to top this man. He just seemed like the cherry on top of the icing. Or what's more suitable for him, would probably be a time ticking bomb placed on top of the cherry on top of the icing.

"Hmm...," Roger grunted. Only time will tell what will happen tomorrow night. Azaelia needed to strap herself in tight. She was in for quite a ride.