DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Dr Quinn characters – just borrowing them for a little fun.
This is a 21st Century Colorado Springs and the story of Myra and the choices she makes, beginning with her escape from the Gold Nugget Nightclub and the clutches of the awful Hank. But a later decision, made when she thinks she has no other option leads to the unexpected.
A little warning: rated M for love scenes and some references to drug use (not in much detail) in one or two chapters, linked to 21st century prostitution (this does start with the sordidness of poor Myra's beginnings after all).
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CHAPTER ONE
30 DECEMBER 1999 - COLORADO SPRINGS
In the centre of town the Gold Nugget Nightclub was getting ready to open at six. They operated as a simple bar until ten, at which time the DJ started up and the club pumped away until three or four in the morning.
The owners, Hank Lawson and Jake Slicker, leaned on the bar sipping whiskey, barking orders at the harassed barmaids as they replenished the supply of spirits, sliced limes, opened fresh boxes of potato chips and nuts and gave the tables in the booths along the wall a last wipe before the evening's customers flocked in.
In the corner two girls sat on bar stools waiting to be summoned; Myra and Emma, dressed in too-short skirts, skimpy tops and high heels with heavy make up and their hair teased and lacquered to within an inch of its life.
"I hate New Year," Myra sighed. "It'll be bad enough tonight, but tomorrow'll be hell."
"What's so bad about it?" Emma asked, having only worked in the club for the past six months.
Myra shrugged. "I dunno, I think it's the atmosphere. You know, everyone lookin' forward to the new year, all full of hopes and dreams and too much liquor. What have we got to look forward to? It's gonna be a whole new century and I'm still where I was five years ago."
"Speak for yourself, I got plenty to look forward to," Emma said. "I'm savin' every penny. This time next year I'm gonna be outta here. I'm lookin' at startin' up my own business."
"Doin' what?" Myra turned tired and haunted eyes on the younger girl, wishing she had something to aim for. All she had was dear sweet Horace from the Fedex office who said he loved her, but was afraid to stand up to Hank and take her away and she herself hadn't managed to pluck up the courage to walk out either. She had tried it once and Hank had dragged her back again. It was hopeless and at this rate she would be working in this place until she was too old to turn tricks any more.
"I'm gonna make lingerie, ya know, real tasteful stuff," said Emma. "I sew real good, it's all gonna be one-off items, sold through a website so I won't even have to buy or rent a shop. I just need to save enough to get the fabrics sent over from China, buy a computer and have one of those geeks make me a website. I been makin' up some samples and showin' 'em around. Ladies love 'em."
"Sounds good, I hope ya make it," Myra said. She looked back over her shoulder as the club doors opened and the first few keen drinkers wandered in. Most of them were familiar and Emma got up to greet one in particular, a regular customer who always had extra money for his favourite, above what he paid Hank for her.
Myra stayed where she was for perhaps another twenty minutes, hoping it would be some time yet before her night got started, but she was out of luck. Looking across at Hank, she saw his eyes fixed on a newcomer in an expensive suit, a heavy gold chain glinting in the open neck of his shirt and a Rolex wristwatch visible just below his cuff. She closed her eyes briefly, praying that this man would only want to drink and be left in peace.
"Myra!" Her eyes flew open again as Hank hissed at her from the other side of the bar.
"Yes?"
"Smile, will ya? That guy there's got money to spend."
Myra sighed heavily and forced a sexy smile onto her face, turning on the bar stool and crossing her legs, allowing the short skirt to slide further up her thighs. The customer glanced at her and winked as he leaned on the bar to order a drink. Hank waved the barmaid aside and poured the drink himself.
Myra watched unhappily as the two men talked, glancing across at her once or twice and then money changed hands; far too much money for just a double vodka. Then Hank came out from behind the bar and walked over to Myra, grasping her hand and pressing a tiny plastic packet into it.
"Hank, no…." she protested, attempting to pull her hand free. Hank gripped tighter.
"He paid for the whole night and then some, you make sure he gets his money's worth."
"Please…."
"Do a good job, maybe I'll think about givin' ya tomorrow night off," Hank said.
"Tomorrow's New Year's Eve," Myra reminded him, surprised.
"Yeah, I know. Now get to it." He let go of her hand and stood back.
Tucking the little sachet of cocaine into her purse, Myra slid off the stool, smiled provocatively and walked towards the rich man with the vodka. It would be worth it to get a much longed for night off and maybe she could even fool him with the cocaine. Those that liked it always wanted to share, but more often that not if she was careful, she could brush her line back into the little pile of powder while she pretended to bend over it and snort, so long as they were looking the other way. Myra hated drugs and on the few occasions she hadn't managed to avoid being drawn into taking them, she had been terrified and hated the way it made her feel. She just hoped she could get away with it tonight.
That night she was out of luck. The guy, who said his name was Steve, insisted on Myra doing a line first.
"Just to be sure; ya know there's a lot of shit around," he said.
"Hank's stuff is always good," Myra told him.
"Prove it then."
Resigned, Myra laid out a couple of lines, rolled up a ten dollar bill handed to her by Steve and snorted the smaller of the two. Steve watched, smoking a cigarette and sprawling in the chair opposite until he realised Myra wasn't going to suffer any ill effects from the drug and then took his turn.
To Myra's relief after that Steve was greedy and over the next few hours used up the remains of the little packet himself, in between times making repeated and rather rough use of her too. When he eventually got to his feet and dressed, dropping a few bills on the bed as a tip before he left, Myra went into her small en suite, turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and scrubbed herself vigorously until the water ran cold and her skin tingled from her rough application of the loofah. Afterwards she pulled on her pink fluffy bathrobe, wrapped her hair in a towel and curled up in a chair with a large bag of potato chips. It was over and now she would have New Year's Eve off.
Eventually she fell asleep still in the chair, waking only as daylight filtered in through the half-drawn curtains. Uncurling her stiff legs she got up, stripped the bed and took the linen into the kitchen to wash. Neither Hank nor Emma were up yet and Myra enjoyed a breakfast of toast and peanut butter alone before going back to her room to dress, deciding to get away from the place for the day and do exactly what she liked.