Don't Go (Jenlisa Adaptation)

1. Kiska

This story is adapted from the original story 'Don't Go' by emjaywrites. This is just an adaptation! All rights belong to the original owner.

This is also G!P (Girl Penis) and it is VERY dark and sad. This is my only warning please leave if you do not want to read this. The door is always open. Mature Audience Only.

If there's any spelling/grammar errors lmk!

Enjoy and thank you for reading :)

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Jennie

I look at the scattered fragments of my heart on the expensive hardwood floors. My eyes blur to the vague soundtrack of rain beating against the windowpane.

"I'm sorry, Jennie."

I nod. I'm sorry too.

Shuffling, I cut my hands on the shards of my heart, rinse it under cold water, and leave.

I'm sorry.

Why do I keep doing this?

I pour my heart out, knowing it only ends up discarded on the floor. Even though there summer night air is muggy, I gather my jacket together.

Loneliness settles over me, my own personal snowstorm.

I can't even ask for a ride. How would I? No, I called a cab I can't afford and rode to the other side of town.

The slums.

Do I miss the lecherous gaze the cab drivers give me? Of course not.

I see it every day. I'm just praying I have enough money to scrape together.

I don't have anymore dignity to spend today.

━

I go into work that night. As usual, Lux is packed. Yeah, that's where I work. God, I can't keep doing this.

Some of the dancers eye me with hatred. I've been here for three years. I have no idea why they hate me so much but, I don't care.

I have more important things to worry about than some stripper's unwanted opinions.

My boss, I call him Namjoon, he's been trying to pimp me out since I came here.

He might get his wish.

"You have two dances booked, Ruby Jane, don't blow it," He grins sleazily, "Or do."

Rolling my eyes, I shoulder past him to the dressing rooms. I'm average height, brown eyes, black wavy hair. Overall, I'm nothing special.

I do have what they call curves and feline eyes.

Fat. Curves. About the same thing. I've never been comfortable in my own skin, but this job only makes it worse.

I have a client booked for nine, so I get in the room prep.

Some girl comes in, dressed in a suit that's obviously tailored to her muscular frame. She's not bodybuilder big, but she's not too far off either.

I like it. Her chest is broad, her hands are big, way bigger than mine. She's larger than life.

The mysterious rich woman says nothing, merely waiting. I don't hesitate. This is a supposed high profile club.