She's not proud of what she does but it pays the bills and that's all she cares about. It pays the mounting medical cost and makes sure her mother it taken care of. That's what matters. That's all that matters, she tells herself as she cakes on her makeup and prepares to go on stage.
God, she hates this. She hates herself for doing this. The only thing that she can actually say she's proud of is that she hasn't fallen victim to the vices the other girls have. She's walked in on most of them snorting something from the table in the dressing room. They've offered her some but she always says no. And she also refuses to prostitute herself out to the men who come here. Sure, management has tried, repeatedly, but Darcy always stood her ground. She may take her clothes off for money, but that's all she'll do. She still has her self-respect. Or whatever is left of it.
After her turn on stage, she makes the rounds to see if anyone wants a dance. No one usually does. Word had spread that she keeps her legs closed and they don't want to waste their money, but she doesn't care. She gets enough tips while she's dancing. They may hate that she won't fuck them, but they certainly show their appreciation for her body.
She was careful not to show her disappointment when she didn't see her favorites out there. And then she promptly kicked herself for thinking that. But she couldn't stop herself from making one more sweep of the room, that maybe they were sitting in one of the darker corners.
No luck. Her shoulders slumped.
Stop it, Darcy.
They'd been coming here for weeks now. She didn't know when they'd arrived but they never stayed much after her shift (she would see them leaving as she walked to the bus stop). They told her about themselves, too. Tony took over his father's multi-billion dollar company and Bruce was a highly sought after biochemist. She'd seen their pictures in various magazines, so she knew they were telling the truth.
And, God help her, she liked them. They never made her feel dirty or unwanted. Never judged. She could tell they didn't like how she was treated and told her she deserved better. Darcy would always shrug and say that she did what she had to do. Not everyone was lucky to be born into money (Tony) or have a ridiculously high paying job (Bruce). She didn't get the sadness, though, when they looked at her.
In return, she never judged them. Never asked why two men so clearly in love came to a strip club and just paid to talk to her. Never anything else. Just conversations that Darcy found herself looking forward to (stupidly). And they tipped her well for it. Too well, but she was just selfish enough to keep the money.
They asked her how she got started there and she told them the truth. She told them about her mom and the hospital bills, that insurance wouldn't pay for most of the treatment because they didn't deem it necessary (how is something that is actually saving someone's life elective?).
And also stupid? Developing feelings for them. Yeah, that was really fucking stupid.
They asked, gently, why she wasn't doing something else and she asked what else she was qualified for. She was in the middle of her junior year of college when her mom got sick and she dropped everything to take care of her. No one would hire her, and she made more doing this than working in fast food. She had shrugged and said that apparently she was good at it.
Darcy sat in the dingy dressing room, cleaning the makeup off her face. She hated leaving with it on, made her feel even dirtier. If there were a shower, she would have used that too. But this place barely had locks on the door and she was sure she saw a rat the other day, so a shower? Laughable concept. She'd shower when she got back to her equally disgusting apartment.
Throwing the makeup remover wipes away, she started hearing noises. And not the usual noises. Not the signs and moans of a "patron" going too far, or the giggles and excited shrieks (some of them were great actors), of the girls.
She's not sure how the fight started, probably just some drunk customer wanting to get too much for his money. Or someone was being cut off at the bar. It didn't matter, though, what the cause was.
The sounds of fighting were getting louder, more people getting involved. Darcy flinched when she heard a loud crash, louder than just a glass breaking on the floor. She didn't want to know what it was. Gathering her stuff as fast as she could, her heart in there throat the entire time, she made her way to the back exit. She was not getting involved in this.
The door didn't budge.
What the fuck?!
She pulled harder but it didn't budge. Shit.
Turning around, she started moving towards the door that would take her to the main room. The closer she got the louder the noises became, and the more nervous she became. By the time she reached the door, her heart was in her throat and she was doing her best not to panic. It sounded like a full blown riot out there.
Okay, plan. What's her plan? Open the door and run as fast as possible to the exit. That seemed like a good plan.
She opened the door and wanted to throw up with fear.
It was a riot. Chairs were being thrown, the girls were being tossed around and the bouncers were doing fuck all to stop it. She flinched as a beer bottle collided with the wall right next to her, close enough that some of the glass hit her face.
New plan, stay as low and as close to the wall as possible. There was no other way out. She was not running into the middle of all that.
She ducked and covered her head as another bottle exploded against the wall, alcohol soaking her hair. Great, she'd be lucky if they let her on the bus as this point.
Nope, correction; she'd be lucky to make it out of here alive.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to vomit, she started crawling towards the door, her side practically glued to the wall.
She'd gone no more than ten feet when a hand reached down and pulled her up.
Darcy screamed, trying to make herself as small as possible, and covered her face.
"No, hey, it's okay. It's just me," the voice yelled, trying be heard over all the noise.
Lowering her arms, she peaked at the man in front of her. Tony. Oh thank god. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, that she was safe.
"Get me out of here," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
He nodded. "That's the plan, sweetheart. Bruce, you ready?" he asked, and that's when she noticed the presence behind her.
Darcy turned as if to double check and tried to give him a smile. He gave her a nod and then was flush against her back, as if to use his body as a shield.
Solidly placed between the two men, they made their way out of the club. Tony had deflected a bar stool that was on a collision course and she could feel Bruce moving behind her, but she didn't dare turn around to look.
Once they were safely outside (and Darcy could hear the approaching sirens), she nearly stumbled as relief hit, but they didn't stop walking until they were a block away from the chaos.
When they stopped, Tony immediately turned around and gathered her in his arms. She sunk into his embrace. "You're safe," he whispered in hear ear, and it sounded like he was telling himself that as much as he was her.
She didn't care who he was saying it to, she was just glad it was true.
He slowly let her go and turned her around so that she faced Bruce, who immediately swept her up as well. He buried his face in her neck, ignoring the alcohol dripping from her hair, and just held her close.
Darcy felt safe with both of them and never wanted to let go. She turned her face until her cheek was against his chest and looked at Tony.
"I can't…you didn't…thank you," she could barely get the words out. They didn't feel adequate enough for what they did. They saved her life, she has no doubt.
Tony didn't say anything, just stepped close and hugged her from behind. She closed her eyes and savored their touch. She hadn't been touched so gently in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like.
"Let's go home," Bruce said, just loud enough for them all to hear.
Darcy slumped (well, as much as she could while sandwiched in between them) and nodded. "Yeah, I should…go. The bus…" she trailed off, trying to figure out what time it was. If the bus had already left or if she'd have to wait. She wanted to cry.
"No," Tony spoke up. "We want you to come home with us. Where you'll be safe. You can take a shower, we'll make you something to eat, and then you can go to bed. We can talk about everything in the morning." Well, he had this all thought out.
It took Darcy all of three seconds to agree.
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