Author's Note: I'm trying the full-length story thing and seeing how it goes. I have a few chapters of this written so far, so tell me if you guys like it so I can keep going! XOXO
Chapter One
The heady smell of smoke permeated the cloudy air, enough to make the young girl walking across the room lightheaded. Fluorescent light poured through the spotlights above, dulled due to the afternoon hour. Still, it was unbelievably dark in the cramped space, and they girl had to make sure that she didn't run into any of the tables or chairs blocking her way. Needless to say she was out of her depth. She wasn't used to this kind of scene, but she convinced herself on the cab ride over that she would get used to it.
The Red Fountain was the premier gentlemen's lounge in Magix City, at least that's what she'd been told. She had heard of the place from her friend, and apparently only the richest of the rich made their way past the gold-framed doors. She thought that they looked more like they were painted with cheap shimmer paint in the afternoon sun, but apparently at night, this place was like the Taj Mahal, a sight to be seen. As she passed row after row of grime-covered black leather booths, she started to doubt the hype.
How the hell did you get here in the first place, Flora Linphea? She asked herself, shaking her head and pulling her cardigan closer to her chest. The answer only made her sad.
She had earned her spot at Alfea College, home to one of the best medical schools in the country, but the bills were too expensive even with her scholarship, and she didn't even want to think about books. Her parents could barely foot the tuition. So, when she asked Krystal as a joke how much a being stripper made and where could she sign up to be one, she never thought that she would actually take her friend's tip about the Red Fountain and find out. She didn't actually have the job, not yet. She really didn't know what she was expecting in coming here to be honest.
She walked up to the bar where a young woman with flaming red hair stood, sporting a black crop top with the club's logo on it, nimble hands flipping and spinning bottles of liquor with ease.
"Hello, I'm Flora Linphea," she introduced herself a bit tentatively as the red head looked up at her with faint annoyance, "I called earlier about the…position available here."
"Riggghhtt…" the woman drawled in a thick southern accent, snapping her bubblegum. "Lemme go get Faragonda real quick for ya hun."
"Thank you," Flora responded as she watched the woman disappear behind a black curtain.
She was left to wait at the bar, and took a seat on one of the high stools there. At least the bar was cleaned, the mahogany shining with fresh polish in the stage light. The bottles of alcohol sparkled in the light as well, almost making the bar look like a magical place. But then she supposed that to some, alcohol was magic.
"Hello hello," came a dramatic voice from behind Flora, startling her, and when she turned around, she did not see what she expected.
An older woman came out from behind the curtain, the red head trailing behind her and returning to the bar. The woman had to be on her way out; her hair was practically a silver Afro and crow's feet decorated her black-framed eyes. She wore far too much make-up and pink lipstick, but dressed sharply, clad in a black pencil skirt with a white button down and colorful scarf that matched her bright pink pumps. She looked like a businesswoman, and Flora was slightly intimidated.
"I'm Miss Faragonda darling, but you can call me Miss F. Everyone else does. And who might you be?" she asked Flora, piercing blue eyes locking onto her brown ones as the woman extended her hand.
"I'm Flora, Flora Linphea," Flora tried not to stutter…or wince at the lady's sharply manicured nails biting into her skin.
"Pleasure," Faragonda nodded, gesturing towards a chair more towards the stage. "Take a seat Flora, I'd like to have a chat."
Flora acquiesced and sat down across from Miss F, not entirely sure what the woman was going to ask her. From what she had seen of the place so far, it could be anything.
"Tell me about yourself darling," Miss F instructed, folding her hands into her lap.
That was actually a rather tame question, and Flora felt more comfortable immediately. She could nail this question; she had answered things like this before on her college applications. All she had to do was sell herself and she'd be golden.
"Oh, well I'm incredibly hard working. I'm not high maintenance. I'll do whatever you'd like really, I-"
"Darling stop, you're boring me," Miss F said as she held her hand up in front of Flora's face. "I asked you to tell me about yourself, not about how much you are willing to – pardon my language – suck my dick to get this job. I want you to be honest with me."
Flora was floored. She had never in her life had someone be so direct with her and ask for the same directness in return. It was both refreshing and terrifying, because Flora wasn't sure if the truth was something that Miss F would want to hear.
"Oh…well…then I guess I should say that this isn't really what I had in mind for a job," Flora admitted frankly, but she couldn't bring herself to look Miss F in the eye. "I want to be a doctor. That's my dream. I got into Alfea College, even got a scholarship, but it's not enough. It's this or nothing…no more dream."
"Darling, I get a dozen girls a week walking through these doors with sob stories just like yours. And you know what I tell them?" Miss F asked, her face compassionate but still firm and set in lines. She didn't wait for Flora to respond before continuing. "Tough shit. That's life. You have to suck it up and move on."
Flora nodded mutely. That was exactly what her father had told her when she cried night after night over her parents not being able to pay the bills that month. Her parents had sacrificed so much to get her to where she was. She owed them to get this job.
Miss F leaned back in her seat and pulled out a cigarette from her purse, lighting the damn thing right in front of Flora. The smoke curled up from her lips and into the air, mixing with the smoke that already lingered there. Some of it tickled Flora's nose, and she tried her best to breathe through her mouth as to not smell the repulsive scent of tobacco and tar.
"So," Miss F hummed as she exhaled more smoke. "What makes you think you have what it takes to be one of my girls?"
"Excuse me?"
"My girls, they're unlike any others out there. They're the best; they work hard at what they do. I pride myself in my girls. They get up on that stage every night and give the performance of their lives. When they look good, this club looks good, and I look good." There was so much pride in Miss Faragonda's words. She actually seemed like she cared about the girls that worked for her. "So, Flora Linphea, can you make me look good?"
The words were a challenge, blatant and plain.
"Yes, I believe I can Miss Faragonda," Flora affirmed with much more confidence than she thought she previously had.
"Then show me."
"What?"
Miss F chuckled and tapped on her cigarette, the ash falling into the tray at the center of the table.
"Get up on that stage and dance. Now."
The woman was dead serious, and Flora swallowed heavily. She had never danced in a place like this before, and never unplanned and with no music. She didn't even have time to stretch or anything. But she had no choice.
"O-okay…"
Flora hoisted herself up onto the dancing platform, using the pole in the center stage to maintain her balance. She was sure her ascent wasn't graceful, but Miss Faragonda was paying her no mind. Instead, she was flagging down the red head girl who nodded back at her and went over to the stereo system. Rihanna's S&M filled her ears the next second, the sultry tones vibrating around the empty space of the club. At least that was one less thing she had to worry about. But there was still everything else.
Flora was frozen. She had no idea what to do, or what Miss Faragonda wanted to see. This woman seemed like a hawk and one wrong move could break her chances for good.
"Any day now Miss Linphea," the older woman said over the loud music, looking a bit bored at waiting.
She swallowed and nodded, the panic creeping in.
Relax Flora, she told herself. You've done this a million times in your room. You can do this. Just feel the music.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting go. She let the beat carry her away, and since she couldn't see the older woman staring at her with satisfaction, she was free to dance how she pleased. She didn't touch the pole, but instead focused on swaying her hips back and forth to the rhythm, setting up a dirty, one-person grind against the pole, practically rubbing the metal with the crack of her ass as she shimmied up and down. She touched her stomach, rubbing her hands up and down and pulling at the hem of her top as she swayed and twirled. Finally she grabbed ahold of the pole and threw her head back, bending down low and snapping back upright, hair flying into her face.
The music ended soon enough, and Flora slowly opened her eyes. She felt dirty, but also liberated, exhilarated. It was always how she felt after a good dance, but she hadn't danced like that in a long time, and never for anyone else.
Flora chanced a glance at Miss Faragonda, only to see that the woman was staring at her, her face expressionless. She was twiddling with the pen in her fingers, and Flora started to feel nervous.
"Did I do alright?"
The red head at the bar let out a laugh, shaking her head. Miss Faragonda got up from her chair and offered her hand to Flora, who gratefully took as she descended the stage. Flora pulled her cardigan back up on her shoulders from where it had fallen during the dance, still awaiting Miss Faragonda's judgment.
"Well, Miss Linphea, it looks like you'll be getting your dream after all," the older woman sighed, smiling at her.
"Really?" Flora squeaked, slightly shocked but also pleased.
"Indeed," the woman replied, eyeing Flora up and down, as if trying to figure out a mystery. "You start tomorrow night for a trial run, see what you got during a real performance. Show up at six on the dot and ask for Musa. She'll show you the ropes. If you impress me Miss Linphea, the job is yours."
"Thank you, Miss Faragonda." Flora said, genuinely grateful.
The woman nodded politely, but it was clear that it was Flora's cue to leave. She gathered her bag that she had left on the table and went to exit the club. She was half way across the room when the woman's voice rang out again.
"And Flora?"
"Yes ma'am?" Flora replied, turning to face her new boss.
"You'll need a stage name."
Flora gave a strange look, but Miss Faragonda was paying no mind. She was gathering her things and heading back behind the black curtain. Flora turned back around and continued on her way.
"Congrats," the red head smiled at her as she passed the bar on her way out. Flora nodded and smiled back a bit shyly, still not quite believing what she had just jumped on board of.
This was it. She had made it. As of tomorrow night, Flora was going to be a dancer at The Red Fountain, and she didn't know whether to celebrate her success or cry at the turn her life had taken.