Disclaimer: I own everything!!! Scratch that. I own none of the characters in CCS or the original CCS plot. NOW, I own everything!!!!
Author Note: "Unheard Voices" is the first part of The Crash Course on Life two book series. It was going to be three books, but I didn't like the way the third one was going. I was finding it very hard to connect it to a real life situation. Unless, I have any qualms with dropping that part of the project, I won't be picking it up again. "Unheard Voices" is a story based on Sakura and Syaoran's lives after Card Captor Sakura. Not everyone, not even the card mistress or the young, well-known sorcerer is as privileged as we think. Just like normal people they are faced with obstacles and the anomalies of life. It only takes an instant for everything to fall apart. Syaoran and Sakura's stories are based on the facts of life and reality. In the end, they find the strength in each other to pull through.
The second book, which is still unwritten, but I hope I will someday start, is titled "Strife." The full summary is with that story, but I can give you the gist of it here. The main character is Tomoyo and she does the unthinkable when she defies her mother's wishes. You might find that Tomoyo's story links to Sakura and Syaoran's story.
Summary: Tuition for school is set at a ridiculous price, so she's left to reap the kind of "dirty money" to pay for it. Life and expectations has chased him to the brink of destruction and disaster. This is REALITY, people. Be prepared for a journey of a lifetime. It's time we watch Syaoran and Sakura bypass obstacles and do what's right.
Warning: Chapter 1 contains sexual content, but no lemon because I don't and I can't write that stuff. Some crude terms may be used as well through out the fic. The beginning might feel and seem disturbing, so just think of it as a storm. The rest of the story up till the end is the calm after the storm. Everything will make sense, I hope. I'm telling the story, so you might hear the pronouns "I," "you," and "we" a lot more than you would like to."
The Crash Course on Life: Unheard Voices
Chapter 1: Maker of the Foxy Trot
The mixed smell of smoke and perfume filled his nostrils the moment he entered the club. Colorful, dizzying lights flashed before his vision. Yet, everything seemed so dim with the blend of the heavy beating techno music and the waves of men sitting at their crowded tables. All of them had girls in their laps and their faces molded into the girls' faces. The place was one of the most obscene places he'd ever been at. And this was just his opinion. He's actually seen a lot more of what you and I might find truly OBSCENE.
A girl in a skimpy, frilly, thigh-length frock and an expert at balancing two trays of drinks between her hands, hurried pass him. As she came by, he snatched the first wine glass of concoction he eyed in which she sloshed around in her tray.
"Excuse me! That isn't yours," she said, spinning around to frown at him.
"Sweetheart, everything is mine," he growled before greedily gulping down the drink right before her eyes. He even had the nerve to watch her black eyes grow wide in disapproval, as his lazy eyes washed over her pinched up face.
She glared at him a minute longer before she hurried away to complain to the manager obviously.
It was loud, bright, and crowded. Why did they bring him here?
"Happy Birthday, Syaoran! It's a new club and it was the boss's idea that I come show you a good time. What do you think?"
Syaoran grunted. "If you call watching a bunch of middle aged married men cheating on their wives a birthday bash, it's one hell of a party."
Ely, the plump, tanned man accompanying Syaoran, was sorry he asked. The guy was being sarcastic again. It meant Syaoran was not up for some so called "fun." It was their boss', Drake's idea anyway. He thought it would be cool to have Syaoran lighten up for once. Maybe, seeing a bunch of naked girls could loosen up the lone wolf and get him screwed. Was this Drake's idea of a joke? Everyone knew what sort of man Syaoran was!
Drake also had Julian tag along, but Julian was a short and quiet individual. He too kept to himself, but he was more open when it came to his sexuality. Julian ogled women, whereas Syaoran ogled at their organization's sport. Julian had a different girlfriend every week and Syaoran never had one. If Drake had a favorite, Julian was second. If Drake had a favorite, you can all guess who it was. Syaoran was one of the most intriguing individuals and the best pick of the litter. A nice Chinese boy chewed and spat out by some American Ivy League college, who hung out on the streets and waited for trouble was what Syaoran was the day Drake sought him out. Syaoran was the best when it came down to executing their heists, which were elaborately planned out by the mastermind, Drake. Syaoran was the backup to the team.
"Mmmmm… hot blonde chick to our left," Julian said. Then, Syaoran watched the blonde sex fiend disappear into the mob.
Ely dragged his fingers through his black hair as he groaned.
"Syaoran, Drake must have been high or something when he suggested this."
"No, let's stay and appease him."
"He's not even here! He doesn't have to know we ditched."
"We're leaving with Julian," Syaoran said with an air of finality.
Syaoran and Ely took a table and eased right into their seats. Syaoran made the mistake of glancing at the table next to theirs, catching a glimpse of a man and a worker wrestling each other on the table. They groped each other in places I can't say and you can't imagine.
"Whore…" Syaoran grumbled.
"Entertainers," Ely corrected smartly.
"House of Sluts."
"Chic Galleria, Dude."
Syaoran's eyes narrowed at his American friend. "I can read, Dolt." He had seen the neon sign blinking outside the establishment before they entered. It was brand new and arrested in its glass frame.
The two men sitting alone was a weird sight in the club. A lanky, tall brunette took the initiative to entertain them. Hopping onto their table, she pushed her busty body forward, spilling her full breasts out of her red tube dress in display for yours truly.
"Hey Cutie," she chirped, resting her jaw on Syaoran's shoulder. Ely was not sure if she was talking to him or to Syaoran, but he was hoping she was talking to him. Really. He was just worried for her. That's all. He was only there to watch the beautiful girls with no intentions of being physically aroused and intimate with any of them. He twitched uncomfortably, watching a menacingly frown wash over Syaoran's dark face. The change was a sign of danger.
"Not interested, "Syaoran said, leaning slightly away from her. She giggled against his cheek and gave an erecting lick to his cold skin.
That was the last straw. He threw her off of him. She shrieked as she sprawled to the floor. He glowered down at her. "Touch me gain, Trash, and I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to the wolves."
Tears streaming down her face, she stood shakily on her red heals. She bit her lip and ran, obviously to complain to the management.
"Damn, Syaoran," whispered his round, dark friend.
"She was asking for it."
"Syaoran, you make this classy place look like a dump." Ely's laughing blue eyes settle on Syaoran's glum face. "Don't look so surprised. The women here are really classy. We've got the dancers, who will come out soon. And we got the ones out here to play around with while we wait for the real stuff. I'm gonna love the sight of those dancers…"
Ely jumped out of his chair when Julian suddenly slammed into their table with a half naked blonde girl under him.
"Heart attack!" Ely screamed.
"Goddammit!" Syaoran joined, standing up to avoid being kicked by the girl's five-inch heals.
As Julian continued sucking on the girl's face, he made incoherent remarks to Syaoran and Ely.
"He's trying to tell us something," Ely said. He looked entranced by the novel way those two were at it, like two hungry beasts fighting for food. Sex wasn't food! And this wasn't novel.
"I'll try to listen when he gets his tongue out of her mouth," Syaoran muttered, furious at the display his quiet pal was demonstrating.
Julian started talking again even as the girl continued nipping at his lower lip. Syaoran thought they looked idiotic. "You two homos should get a life."
That did it. Syaoran was ready to throw a punch. Who cares if it was for a buddy? However, Ely beat him to it. Ely, being the most temperate and affable of the trio, grabbed the blonde man by the ear and smacked him upside the head. If the girl had not started biting his shoulder and neck, Julian might have done something about it. For example, punch back. Eh, he took his anger out on the girl instead. Pushed her back and bruised her lips with hot kisses. Ripping and tearing at the loose, hanging lace of her bra.
Syaoran shrunk, shoulders slumping visibly. He dragged his chair to a dark, less colorful corner and plopped himself down. Five minutes later, Ely was standing next to him with a drink.
"I can't even bypass the workers here to get to the bar," he laughed and joked.
Syaoran was silent as he took the drink Ely offered him. The drink made his vision hazy and light. It was great and almost fulfilling.
"Like I said earlier, Syaoran; Happy Birthday."
The lights suddenly dimmed and the rhythm of the music changed. It started beating to the heartbeat of Syaoran's heart and circling around his soul. The Doppler Effect: Water trickling down pale fingers and landing in ripples on the wet floor. The science and beauty of music humming in his ears. Pulse for beat, beat for pulse.
Syaoran took another drink, Ely's drink. They both look up at the stage.
Somewhere under the water of music someone announced, "Gentlemen, The maker of the Foxy Trot."
"It's her style. She's really hot stuff," Ely said, which really made Syaoran wonder how many times Ely and the rest of the gang had actually come around this place.
"She's so hot they put her anywhere in the line-up. You can see her first, last, or in the middle somewhere. It's as if she doesn't belong anywhere."
"You come here only to see her?"
"Yes and no. She's my favorite Asian. But I also love watching Daisy."
Monotone voice, drowning in the water of music, buries itself into their conversation, "Miss Sakuuuuuuuuuuuuraaa."
Syaoran's amber eyes widen as the curtains opened.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Panting, she dashed up the hall, five minutes before office hours were over with her English professor. She really needed to see her about getting an extension on her report. No way was she going to finish it by the end of next week when she had a shit load of lab reports to write up and a very demanding job to keep up with.
"Sakura, I've been giving you extra time on every assignment. You have an obligation to keep up in school, so you can't ask for an extension every time you're in a jam," Professor Damarie lectured, looking over the frames of her spectacles at the young woman with hard cobalt eyes. Professor Damarie studied Sakura, her eyes darting up and down the young, pale face. "Being a freshman is no excuse. You have to straighten out your priorities. Divide your time between school and life," she said.
If only life were that easy for Sakura Kinomoto. She had to work right after school almost every night. She only had time to cram a couple of hours for studying and, then, it was a four-hour sleep time for her. Her boss, Pablo, was going to run her over with his 1980 sports car if she was ever late again or called in sick again. She needed the money to pay for this class and every other class she was taking. If only a day was thirty six hours long and humans didn't need sleep.
Sakura's head drooped and she could feel the stress pressing her down. "However, Sakura, I will pity you one last time."
The girl's head shot up, as a wide grin spread across her weary face. "Oh, thank you Dr. Damarie!"
"One more week, Sakura and that's it for the semester. No more cutting slacks for you."
"Right, I'll try to keep up."
She bowed and high-tailed out of the office, carefully closing the door behind her.
"Yes! I did it!" She cheered in Japanese as she threw her fists in the air and jumped up and down a couple of times. A guy walking by noticed her and thought she was losing her mind. She would have if she didn't get the extension on the paper she truly needed.
Sakura turned beat red as she pressed her hand over her mouth. He laughed at her and walked onward to attend his next class. Sakura watched him go as she continued idling in the hallway. A smile spread across her face.
"Sakura!" The sound of her friend screaming her name was like having a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over her head. "Don't you have work?" Chelsea was coming up to her, now. "Like tonight, July 13th, 6:00PM, right now."
"HOEEEEE! Yeah, I'll call you later cuz' I got a six-hour shift to cover. Thanks!"
She was off again, running to the bus station on her strong legs. Brown University became a distant memory of that day as she ran to work in her sneakers.
Daisy, a twenty-five year-old single parent shuffled her feet as she clutched the evening dress she was going to wear tonight. She kept looking at the clock, just pleading for it to stop ticking. There was a loud clunk, the sound of the back door opening and closing. All the girls in the dressing and rehearsal room of the Chic Galleria turned to watch the arrival of Sakura, dropping whatever they were doing just to stare at her.
"Sakura!" Daisy embraced Sakura, the worry lines on her face disappearing instantly. Daisy pulled out the screen for Sakura to privately strip naked. Only Sakura got the special treatment from the boss. Only she could change in privacy because if the boss had a favorite, Sakura was his.
"What am I today?" Sakura asked using a voice high with happiness.
"A marine, Darling." Daisy answered. "Why are you so happy? Pablo is going to whip you with his words after the show."
Sakura snapped the navy blue bra on and the navy blue thong that came with the outfit with agile fingers. "No kidding."
"He's making you go first because you're late."
"I thought making me go last was the cruel and unusual punishment."
"Oh, please be ready in a half an hour," Daisy begged.
"Saku! Late again, Chica? Saku!" It was Pablo, their manager, who was usually at the bar, but as always he would poke his head into the dressing room and start barking orders at them just an hour or two before the girls went out. He was Hispanic and his wife used to be a stripper.
"Right here, Pablo!" Sakura shouted, stepping out from behind the screen and still in her revealing undergarments.
"Chica, get your clothes on! You're honey butt is out there in an hour!"
"Yes, Sir," She saluted him as he slammed the door.
The moment he disappeared, Sakura let out a breath of air. "Yes, I did it!"
"Stop speaking in Japanese, Sakura," Daisy sighed. She helped her younger friend into her jacket, smartly running her hand down Sakura's front and snapping the Velcro perfectly together.
"Oh, yeah, Chica. Ten percent deduction on your salary tonight! Comprende?" Where did he come from? No one even heard him come in.
"Pablo," Daisy gushed, lacing her arm under his arm and kissing his cheek. "Take it out of my pay instead, will ya? The girl's got enough on her plate as it is."
Pablo glared at Sakura and pointed accusingly at her. "Only because I like you!" This time he really left.
Sakura stood next to the screen, on the verge of tears as she stared at her friend with her loving green eyes.
"Darling, don't cry! You're eyes will be all puffy before the show!"
Sakura threw her arms around Daisy. Daisy pulled Sakura back after squeezing her for a second in her secured arms.
"What about Nicky?" Sakura asked.
"I have enough right now to last me months, Darling. You have school to worry about. Please start saving and start making it on time! I don't think I can keep bailing you out like this!"
"You're awesome, Daisy."
Somebody bumped into Sakura as she passed the two of them chatting.
"Ie…" Sakura moaned when she looked up and saw Rose standing right next to her.
"Hey Bitch, keep moving!" The girl with the blonde curls was sporting a school girl's uniform. "You're drooping ass is in my way!" Rose brushed past her again.
"Don't listen to her, Sakura. You're butt is lovely," Daisy assured her. She stifled her laughter at the sight of Sakura trying to look at her own little butt by turning her head around. She looked like a cute kitten, chasing her tail around in circles.
It was sad working at this place. All the girls hated her, especially Rose. They could stab her in the back anytime and anywhere possible. It was because the boss coddled her like one would with a favorite child. If she said she would not expose herself entirely, he said okay, girl, whatever you say. If another girl actually refused, though, he would have her out in the gutters before you or I can say "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." In other words, Sakura was his jewel. Without her his business would drop like an atom bomb, knocking out his prestigious establishment right off its foundations.
That's right, Sakura had never taken her top off and still earned almost as much as the other girls, who threw their bras out into the hordes of howling, cat-calling men. They had to dance the night away in infinite exposure, while she, the cute and yummy little tootsie roll, had her underwear to still keep her warm. The college girl was a big hit.
Daisy thought, it was a shame that the girl had to hide her natural beauty under all the eye-liner and lipstick. Sakura was like her little sister. Since the first day she had met her, which was in August, she felt an obligation toward the girl. It wasn't long after their first meeting, that Daisy finally knew that the obligation for the enthusiastic girl stemmed from what she saw in Sakura. Daisy was once like Sakura. She wanted to finish college, but she was kicked out because she was pregnant with Nicky. Her boyfriend ditched her and wanted nothing to do with their daughter, so she had to climb over the wall by herself. She had to do it for her daughter. She had to throw away her dignity for a better life. Here in America, the country rolls on money. Without it, you don't know where you'd be.
Sakura smiled at Daisy as she pulled on her pants. Daisy taught her everything she knew about dancing. It wasn't fun at all, but it was an art. It was an art that Sakura was glad she learned and practiced.
"What are you thinking, Daisy?"
Daisy kissed her forehead. "Keep up with school, k?"
"Yeah."
A woman's got to do what a woman's got to do.
"Back stage, Sakura in five!" It was Pablo ordering her out again.
"Okay!" Sakura got up and smoothed her golden, auburn hair back with her hands. She slipped into her black heals and moved forward. Pablo's eyes were glued to the eighteen-year-old's body, mesmerized by the way she already started to move. When, Sakura disappeared from their view, Pablo glanced back up at Daisy. "You are number seven tonight."
"Alrighty!" She said cheerfully.
Sakura stood just behind the curtains, staring at the orange glow from the crevice between the curtains. She remembered her first time out here and it was nerve-racking. Now, it was like second nature, to throw herself out there and strip for them. They sometimes grabbed her by the ankle, but she would shake off their grip easily as her body moved like liquid between anybody's hands. Pablo had taught her never to be rough towards customers and she never actually had to be. "Roughness scare those drunk men away. You gotta be a flower to them, Chica. The way you are to me."
Sakura snorted as the curtains rose. No one really heard her over the pounding music ahead of her. Her feet tapped in accordance to the snare drums in the music and it began.
The curtains were pulled back all the way and men could see the silhouette of a girl as the back lights blared behind her. All her curves were accented by the mercury lights and the men started howling.
"This isn't a play or anything. Why the curtains?" Syaoran questioned as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands.
"Told you this place was classy."
Sakura was a popular name among Japanese girls. Parents loved naming their kids after flowers. However, hearing the name just struck an out-of-tune chord in his heart. The memories of his first love, buried so deep within his drugged mind, surfaced again.
"Get me another drink," he said as he raked his hand through his chestnut hair.
"Sure thing."
The figure on the stage started swaying like a young flower waving in a breeze. The lights in the room started flashing again and now every man could see Sakura. Those lights evened out their visions. She beamed at them and started down the cat walk, swaying her hips in an easy, sexy lilt. Her little cap hung low over her eyes. Her grin widened as she heard men groaning for her to take off her clothes. She was great because she worked slow. If it were any other girl, though, men would start throwing their glasses and cigarette butts on stage.
Sakura threw her arms up and started weaving her body in the air. It was getting hot and she could feel intense eyes waiting for her to peal.
How wrong, how ghastly, how unreal this was. No, Syaoran, we tell him, it's very real.
Syaoran stood and pushed a man aside.
"Hey!"
"Hey, yourself."
One foot out and the other foot in. Then, she tore off her pants with an easy flash and threw it out to the crowd. She tipped her cap lower, not bearing to look out into the lighted men's faces. Sakura made her way back to the side pole, toes whispering against the floor, body swinging with a life of its own to the rhythm. She came in contact with the pole and started rubbing herself against is. Her hand turned to her crotch and she started massaging it as she kept bucking her lower body out to the crowd. She was never used to this though, for she still turned red under the colorful lights. Not even close to half way through her performance, she was always already sweating profusely, her mind fussing over her so furiously. The pace of the music always seemed to quicken at this rate, 2-2 time, to 6-8. The men grew louder as they threw their money into the basket that dropped from the ceiling.
Syaoran was near the basket and found himself throwing a fifty in before turning to the other end of the stage, where the next pole was rooted, and he was sure Sakura was going to reach. He pushed by the men, earning him loud grunts and "Heys."
A man grabbed her by the ankle.
Rule number one: "Roughness makes my business retreat. No roughness at all."
Sakura reached out to the man who grabbed her and trailed her long finger down his bearded chin. She winked and tipped her head, so that the cap she wore landed perfectly in his hands. The man whooped and rushed to the basket, throwing in another thirty for the worthless cap. Sakura danced her way to the middle of the stage again, giving off her best moves. Hands resting on her hips and rising up to her breasts in an exotic and breathtaking motion.
Syaoran watched her from the side, a low groan in the back of his throat. It WAS her. All the familiar energy was radiating out of her.
She danced her way towards him, still not seeing him right under the pole.
Rule number two: "Touch yourself everywhere you know they can't touch. It arouses them. Never stop dancing while you're doing this."
Her hand on her right breast, tore away the top garment like it was nothing. She was now down to her underwear as she made her way to the next pole. Boy, was she glad the stage rising at eight feet high separated the men from her. Because the next rule, she never really had to apply before. If she actually had to use it, she wouldn't no what to do, being as inexperienced as she was.
Rule number three: "If ever some guy gets on stage, you retreat. Don't dance with him even if you like him. Just come back to me okay, Chica?"
She was almost next to the pole when suddenly a tall man leapt over the boundary and landed right in front of her pole. She stopped abruptly as amber clashed with emerald. Her mouth went dry as everything familiar to her came back in a rush. After about a minute of staring, she twirled around and pushed forward.
Sakura smiled at Syaoran. It was not a reminiscent smile or even a happy smile, just a dark, half smile. Her eyes would not meet his as she danced around him, throwing herself in and out of the circle she drew around him. Her body was languid, like liquid, flowing with the fine tune of music. His eyes trailed up and down her body, staring at every patch of perfect skin that she had on her naked form. She was quenching his thirst by letting him drink her in with his fiery eyes.
The sight of her, down to this, was killing him. He grabbed her by the waist by circling his arm around her. This forced her to look up at him, her green, terrified eyes reflected in his gaze. Her body shook as she slammed into him. The heat mingled around them, fogging up their senses. Syaoran… Sakura… Their hearts were calling out to each other.
Syaoran's brow furrowed as he glared down at her. Then, not really quite out of the blue, he forced his mouth onto hers. Her hands came up to his hard chest to push him away, but he tightened his hold on her, the other hand touching her bare buttocks, where her thong didn't do much sealing work. She opened her mouth to gasp in retort or something. He immediately plunged his tongue into her the moment he felt her lips part. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut in pain, her body slacking and not reacting at all to his hungry kiss. They tumbled back behind the curtains and he pushed her against the wall. He was suffocating her. He needed to let go!
His tongue continued to explore every realm of her wet mouth. Her breasts were pressed to his rib cage and he wasn't losing control. She was turning into jelly in his arms. She did not fight him at all. He pulled back and stared at her through pained, amber eyes. She opened her eyes and saw his pain and she felt hopeless. What could she do?
As he took off his leather jacket and threw it over her small shoulders, she could think of only one thing. Boldly, she pulled him down again and gently kissed his lips.
"Sakura!" Pablo screamed.
They broke away and stared at the manager of Chic Galleria.
"No men allowed back here!"
The girls behind Pablo started snickering, with the exception of Daisy, who seemed too stunned to move any closer to protect Sakura this time around.
"Lily get out there!" Pablo hollered as he grabbed the girl by the arm and roughly pushed her forward.
"Ie…" Sakura whispered, as she released Syaoran and he her.
"Twenty percent more!"
Finally Daisy spoke up. "That isn't fair at all Pablo! This has never happened to any of us. I wouldn't know what to do, either."
Pablo turned on Daisy, "Do you not remember rule number three? Must I deduct ten more percent of tonight's salary from you to remind you?"
Daisy backed off.
"You," he pointed at Syaoran. "You do not touch my stage girls. You can only touch my bar girls. Girls complain about you. You will not mistreat any of my girls. Comprende, Amigo?"
"I comprende," Syaoran snarled in mock tone.
Without thinking twice, Sakura grabbed his hand and dragged him out from under the eyes of her colleagues and boss. She opened a back door and roughly pushed Syaoran outside. She slammed the door just as he was turning around to speak to her.
Slowly Sakura sank to her knees and wept as she leaned against the door. Her fingers wrapped around his jacket and closed it around her tiny form. Her face turned and the collar of his jacket was soaked in her tears. He was truly the last person she would ever want to know about her secret life.
On the other side, Syaoran was leaning his forehead against the cold metal door. His mind kept repeating her name over and over again, a song in loop.
"Syaoran," Ely called.
Syaoran looked up the dark ally and saw Ely and Julian standing in the lights of the street lamps. They had both seen what Syaoran had done to the first stripper on stage. Both of them were shocked. Ely dropped the drinks in horror as he watched Syaoran do the unthinkable. Julian had even shoved his sex toy to the floor when he saw Syaoran up there.
Julian came up to him first . "Old chum, you got red lipstick on you."
Syaoran wiped his mouth with the back of his hand .
"Syaoran, that was unbelievable," Ely whispered as he too came up to Syaoran. "I think you got mixed up back there. Did you know your fist isn't your tongue and Sakura's mouth isn't a punching bag?"
Syaoran glowered at him.
Julian chuckled. "Now we know that Syaoran does prefer a tonsil fight over a fist fight."