I don't own Twilight...
This is just something new I came up with. Tell me your honest opinion, please and I'll write some more :)
I know this theme might be getting old, but I thought I'd be fun to play around with the characters and follow a story I've been locking up in my mind for a while now.
xo,
Pearl.
CHAPTER ONE.
Poison
The music overpowered the room, muting every other sound.
Alcohol was flowing, cash was spend and eyes feasted on the waitresses and stunning dancers.
They were all so beautiful and careless; swaying their hips, toying with straps and ties, moving around like snakes that were tempting their prey. Everything seemed natural to them; even if it wasn't.
I looked sideways to the left, spotting my friend Jasper hauling some beer from the bar; helping the waitress carry the full tray towards our table.
They arrived soon enough and Jasper let his hand glide across the girl's shoulder.
"Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you, Sir," she said; fake-innocence dripping from her all-too-sweet soprano voice.
"My pleasure, Victoria," he answered and sat down in between Emmett and myself.
"If there's anything else I can do for you; please do tell," the girl said never taking her eyes off of Jasper.
He grinned and slipped a twenty dollar bill across the table, in her direction.
She winked at him and walked away in her skimpy outfit; legs elongated by the skyscraper-high stilettos and hips swaying, making her little skirt flare out to reveal her blood red, lace panties.
"Dude, want to get laid, much?" Emmett bellowed to Jasper.
He only sipped his beer and gave him a vague stare.
"We can't all have supermodel fiancés, Emm. Besides she's not too hard on the eyes, now is she?" He asked in general.
The girl, Victoria wasn't really. But there was something about her, something mysterious and dangerous all in one. Her face claimed nothing but innocence, with her big, childlike blue eyes and pouty lips. The freckles that were lightly spread out over her pale complexion were only adding to the innocent act, but her fierce red curls unraveled the demon inside her, the vixen.
"Jealous of Rose, are we?" Emmett joked.
"Emm, please. We all know blonde isn't my type," he laughed.
We were all here at this club called Poison, for my brother's bachelor party who was going to get married to Rosalie tomorrow. Emmett had the grand idea to come to a strip club and give ourselves one night of pure macho-ism.
I had never been to a strip club before, and never really intended to either. But your brother only gets married once… if you're luck, that is.
So I had agreed to come here, with my brother Emmett and best friend Jasper. Our original plan included our father, Carlisle, but since my mom caught a hint of where we were going to she prohibited him to come with us.
Or if he did, he'd be sleeping on the couch for quite some time.
God, my father is whipped.
I sat here, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the attention we were getting. My brother already got a lap-dance from a very attractive Latino girl, who proclaimed my brother would severely regret his decision of getting married.
I promised not to tell Rose about this, she'd skin the bitch alive, along with slapping Emm's face off.
Nah, she wouldn't slap him that hard.
I drank my beer and let my eyes wander around the building. The club was not very big, but cozy enough and unfortunately there were a lot of clichés, such as red lamps and a serious amount of see-through hooker heels.
At least not all the girls actually looked like strippers, but that was beside the point.
"So Eddikens, seeing something you like?" Jasper asked me. We were the only actual singles at the table, but we made Emmett promise not to tell any of the girls around here.
We were actually enjoying ourselves a lot, even I had a good time. I'm not a pervert, but some of these girls could've been picked out of the Victoria's Secret catalogue.
Not that I owned that…
The lights suddenly dimmed and a woman walked up the main stage, a bedazzled microphone in hand.
"Hello, my darlings! Welcome at Poison tonight, we hope you're ready for the show?" she asked. The woman was around her mid-thirties probably and looked stunning in a tight-fitting charcoal satin dress, which reflected some of the stage lights and made her shimmer. She was tall, around five foot seven and strawberry blonde.
Men wolf-whistled, including us and I got anxious as to what kind of show we were going to see.
Right, a strip-show, I'm not retarded.
