WASHINGTON D.C. - 1AM
The night is cold and dark. The rush of the wind in my ears cancels the silence in the night. My shoes tap the streets in a click-clack pattern on the ebony blacktop. A small sprinkle of rain begins and as I keep walking, thunder arises in the night against the clouds, and the droplets become heavier; thicker.
I look up from the droplets of rain and see a solid metal door in the alleyway, and a man is standing guard in front; a black umbrella looming over his head.
"Aye, J, why you late?" The man's dark skin is glistening in the night from the mist of the rain. I roll my eyes at the bouncer, a dear friend of mine.
"Shut your pie-hole, Nick." I laugh and he kisses my cheek as I enter the building.
As the door opens music blasts from the front of the club. This isn't the job I wanted when I grew up, but it pays the bills during my lapse of real work going on.
"You're late." I look up and see my boss, Jack Randall. Jack is tall, English, and takes good care of us girls. Though there is rumor of a man targeting dancers… I hope he hasn't come to this club.
"I'm your biggest money maker. It doesn't matter if I'm 30 minutes early or 2 hours late. You know I'm good for it; people come for me." Jack laughs and ruffles my wet hair. He wipes his hand on his jacket and his grey eyes tinkle in the lowlight of the hallway.
"Get dressed, love. You're on in 15." I nod and go down the dark hallway into the dressing room for the dancers. I greet my fellow ladies: Star, Jackie, Violet, Lucy, and Moira.
"What's up sisters?" I ask as I walk into the room. They all greet me with smiles and hey's, all of them naked getting ready for their part of the show.
I go to my cubby and strip down; my tattoos are exposed and I put my blonde wig over my sky blue hair and fix up my makeup in the mirror. My outfit consists of a black lace bra and matching underwear, and my heels are thick and full of straps.
"J, you're on!" I hear from the door and sigh. The girls look at me and give me praises of luck. I smile and and take a deep breath. I hear my song come on, and exit towards the stage.
The stage is dark as the beginning riff of Killing in the Name Of by Rage Against the Machine plays. I take a deep breath and walk onto the stage, my heels clicking against the tile.
"KILLING IN THE NAME OF!" I jump on the pole and begin my dance. Swirling within the lights and fog with the song has become second nature to me. The bruises faded after the first month, and my body is in the best shape its ever been in. As I've said, it isn't the best work to have, but as long as there are customers, there will always be money.
My dance continues for the remainder of the song. Money, alcohol, shouts, hollers… all of it is thrown out into the air an on the stage. I hear people screaming my stage name, "Vixen!" over and over again.
The song ends and I complete my dance by throwing my bra out into the audience, and the rule is the person who catches the bra gets a dance at a discounted price… they usually pay the strippers the most tips from the discounted dance.
A man with a military-style cut catches my bra and I jump off stage and he kisses my hand. I lead him to my dance room, his arm over my left shoulder, and he follows like a lost puppy.
"So what's your name sweetheart?" I play the role of sex kitten very well, most of these men try to get me to go home with them. I don't sleep with paying customers; I only give them a dance, get my money, and get out as quickly as possible.
I have regulars, we've developed some type of business relationship of conversation about their wife at home, their kids and everything… it's strange, but I'm like a therapist in some way.
"I'm Richard. What's your real name, Vixen?" I roll my eyes. He should be smart enough to know I can't give him my real name. They see every part of us; they don't need to know our names as well.
"It's whatever you want, baby." I internally gag at the words, but that's part of our script.
We get into my dancing room and Richard sits down in the chair. He starts to unbuckle his belt and I stop him immediately.
"Whoa there. I'm going to have to stop you. We don't do that shit here. If you're expecting a sexual favor, you need to get the fuck out."
"If you don't give me what I want Jennifer," he pulls out a gun as he says my real name and my eyes widen in fear, "I'm going to have to hurt you."
*** BAU - Quantico
"There has been a series of dancers going missing from night clubs. Another has just gotten abducted. Her name is Jennifer Lexon, age 24. She has been dancing at the Phoenix for over a year and has never had a bad experience, until tonight. It seems this man stalks his victims before taking them; but the club owner said Jennifer has never reported any ill behavior towards her. She's their biggest money-maker, and according to this guy's M.O., we have 72 hours to find this girl before she gets murdered." JJ finishes her speech and looks around the room. Hotch is already mapping out a profile in his head. Penelope swiftly goes back to her computer area and starts to analyze the tapes of the nightclub they patched over. The rest of the crew are piddling through case files of previous victims.
"What is this guy's motivation? Is it sexual? Is it possession? Jealousy?" Reid speaks up and swiftly looks through crime-scene photos of girls dumped into the river covered in scars, scratches, mud and their eyes are so empty.
"If he's stalking them, he's probably jealous of every male they come in contact with. Look and see if these girls all dance with the same men, and if they do, interview them all." Hotch orders the team and they get to work in a rushed attempt to save Jennifer from a jealous murderer.
JENNIFER POV
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I whisper to the guy who has abducted me. He has a gun to my back under the front of his jacket
"Now, now puppet. You need to be careful." He shoves the gun farther into my back, and I know it's going to bruise.
"Why are you doing this?" We approach a nondescript vehicle and he orders me to get in the passenger seat.
"Why must you dance with other men?" I look at the man who claims his name is Richard, and see his stark blue eyes are swollen with anger and frustration. I furrow my brow and stare at the man in disbelief as he starts the car.
"You're joking, right?" With that, he punches me in the face, and I black out, not knowing the danger I am really in.