Charlaine Harris owns everything. Sadly I own nothing.
My first attempt at Fanfiction, so please go easy on me. Reviews are very much welcomed :)
"Hey Sookie!" Joe said in his self atoned, Italian-mafia style voice (as I like to call it). "It's your turn on the floor. Don't smile too much, huh?" Great, I could just feel the sarcasm rolling off his tongue.
Joe, my boss, was a short, round, Italian fella who had seen and done many things during his 30-something years of life. He had bought the club off its old owner five years ago when profits were failing to come through. It was situated on a busy strip in Las Vegas and needed little renovation to the main structure. But what Joe had done had been high standard and he had been racking in ever since.
I had gotten my job a month after moving to Nevada – since my parents had decided I wasn't "amounting to anything in life" and therefore they couldn't do anymore to help me. Psht, as if I even asked for their help. Isn't it ironic how parents can be so damn quick to judge your life before you even hit twenty? Mine can barely talk considering they were expecting a baby straight out of High School! Anyways, I had come to Nevada on a hope and prayer and had stumbled into the club on a night out with a new girlfriend after giving up hopes of finding a job. Joe had seen me dance and offered me a job as long as I learnt how to mix cocktails. I was ecstatic at first, since dancing was one of my favourite things to do, but over the years that passion died down along with my personality. Working in Vegas is hard, you have to be strong-hearted and learn how to defend yourself pretty quickly. I had learnt that the hard way. Now however, I was strong as a rock – if I do say so myself.
Lost in thoughts of how pointless my life had become and how right my parents had been, I put down the martini glass I had spent the last ten minutes cleaning in the hopes of avoiding dancing, threw my apron in the washing box and made my way out from behind the bar. I took a quick detour to the ladies room to check if my hair and make-up was in order, and then made my way back to the dance floor.
Tonight seemed to be quite busy, considering it was a Thursday. The dance floor was filled with sweaty, gyrating club goers and the bar had been taking orders non-stop. I sidestepped an overexcited patron's meaty hands and smirked, leaning into the heavily-built man a little. Enough to smell that honestly rancid breath. "Can't touch this," I breathed, gliding away before he could attempt to grope me again. Ew.
I'd been working here for a year now and the first few months had basically consisted of me failing to get onto the platform because of my stature. I wasn't short and I wasn't tall, I stood at 5'6 but these platforms were made for giants! Joe must have been high whilst deciding the measurements for these things. They came up to my hips. But some silly podium could never hold this girl down, oh no! I shimmied up the thing gracefully, swinging my hips a little to the beat, catching the attention of the nearest crowd who had realized what I was about to do.
I started off with a little arm swaying that was quickly joined by motions from my hips and arms. I let the beat control what I did, losing myself completely to the atmosphere, the music, allowing myself to remember why I still did this every night. The bar patrons leered at my body like I was their prey, taking in my every move, the fluid movements of my arms and hips to the motion of my bare legs. I would have said I felt unnerved if I hadn't been working here for over a year, a lot of new dancers don't last longer than a week or two. I scanned the club searching the eyes of a few lucky patrons, caressing their gazes as I watched them fidget and their breathing to speed up giving them a false hope of achievement. A few minutes into my performance I realised that the shrieking my female fans usually reserved just for me... well, I felt its absence. There had to be something pretty amazing for them to be that distracted, I couldn't help feel little deflated since I was the one always providing their entertainment.
I searched the crowd to see what had captivated their attention when my eyes stumbled onto one of the most beautiful human beings I had ever seen, he was almost otherworldly beautiful and he was staring directly at me! I felt warm blood rush up to my face turning me a slight pink, how embarrassing! Thank god the club lights were dim. The man was sprawled out on one of the few leather armchairs situated through out the club, each long arm resting on the armrests and legs planted firmly on the ground. The man was tall; at least 6.5 you could tell this from his slightly raised knees in his position. His skin was pale. Really pale, and flawless. His long blonde wavy hair was resting effortlessly below his broad shoulders. I never really found a man with long hair attractive before, they always seemed to look like they were trying to compensate for their lack of good looks, or man bits. Who knew, maybe this guy was lacking in that department? But judging from the sheer size of him I could easily be wrong, he wasn't body builder massive, no, he looked as if he had been hand carved by Michelangelo himself. Of course I was only going from his slightly stretched dark grey shirt. Over his shirt he was wearing a superbly fitted black blazer and black suit trousers which looked as if they had cost more then 4 months of my pay check. All together he was a great package, but his eyes... his piercing blue eyes, almost turquoise were beautiful. Alien beautiful. I felt as if I looked into them long enough I would be lost, lost in the depths of continuing light and sparkle.
I realised I had been analyzing his facial features for far too long and focused more on my dancing, at the same time maintaining our eye contact. I don't think I had ever felt this comfortable with eye contact with any of the bar patrons before, seeing as they always seemed to eye fuck me afterwards. But this, this felt appropriate, this felt right. Right? Did I really just think that? I've just seen the guy and I was already on the path to planning our future marriage. Pull it together, Sookie!
A few songs and twenty minutes later, I had finished my set. I jumped off the podium as gracefully as possibly seeing as I was wearing pumps and he was still watching me and made my way back over to the bar. I casually greeted a few regulars when a drunken middle aged man gripped my forearm and spun me around to face him. He was average height, maybe 5'9 wearing a cheap mint polyester suit and a mustard shirt. I think he thought he looked edgy, stylish even, but he just looked downright desperate to me. The man's receding sandy blond hair and bald patch was somewhat distracting from his beady brown little eyes, hooked nose and large jaw. The man had what I presumed as a bourbon in one hand and in the other, my arm still clasped firmly, nails slightly causing crescent shape dents on my flesh.
His breath was a hot putrid mess as he began to speak down to me. "Hey baby, saw you up there shaking that sweet little body of yours, wanna come back to my place and show me what else you can do?" He waggled his eyebrows, increasing the lines on his sweaty forehead and pushing his hips forward, rubbing his groin on the side of my hips. His voice was a slurring southern one, real strong, Texas I presumed.
I grabbed the hand he had on my arm and threw it off of me causing the man to spill some of his drink and slapped him on his cheek. I began to speak slowly and strong so that the drunken man could understand what I was about to tell him. "Firstly do not call me baby, I am not your baby." I said, my southern drawl coming out, using my pointing finger with all the strength I could muster poking him in the shoulder. "Secondly I'm sure whatever resemblance of a dick you have couldn't satisfy an abstinent 80 year old widow, and thirdly, do not touch me!" I finished raising my voice towards the end of my sentence and slightly trembling from the adrenaline waiting to jump out. The man's face turned a bright crimson red as he grimaced looking very angry and a little embarrassed and was about to say something when our six foot six and six foot eight security guards David and Arnold stood in front of the man in a body guard's stance, legs shoulder width apart and arms in front holding there hands together, effectively blocking him from me.
"I think you should leave," said David. The man must have been off his head as he foolishly tried to step towards me when Arnold finished of the sentence. "Now, or we'll throw you out." The man quickly headed to the entrance of the club, not before throwing me a dirty look over his shoulder before walking out the doors. Ow scary.
David and Arnold both turned around in unison to ask if I was alright. "Yes, I'm fine guys. Nothing I haven't dealt with before. Thanks for coming to help me, I was pretty sure I would have ending up head butting him next if you hadn't intervened," I reassured them, innocent smile plastered on my face.
Arnold let out a genuine laugh and said, "Your welcome, and I would expect no less from you Sookie". With that, both guards smiled and left back to assume their original positions.
I gave the club the once over to see if Mr. Viking (yep definitely his new nickname) was still here but he was no where in sight, hmm I wonder where he sauntered of to? Umm I could just imagine his butt as he ...
"Sookie!" I heard Joe yell to the left of me, I looked down at the man with an expectant look on my face to see why he was yelling at me. "You just gunna stand there staring of into space catching flies all night? Your shift finished ten minutes ago, go home," he said in explanation. Had I really been standing there day dreaming? Gosh I need to get this guy out of my head. Pronto.
I headed to the back of the club to Joe's office and grabbed my bag and my white trench coat from my locker, put the coat on and slung my bag over my shoulder. Joe's office was what I thought Donald Trump's office probably looked like, but done on a seriously different budget. The floor was a dark mahogany wooden one, with high finished gloss. The walls were painted a sort of brown-grey mushroom colour with several paintings hanging around the room. The most dominant one was of a scene of a mother penguin and her young huddled close set apart from the rest on a single piece of ice in the middle of the ocean, there faces seemed somewhat sombre. Hmm, I never pegged Joe for an animal kind of guy. In the middle of the room, was a black laquor desk with a ruby red inset top, with gold tooling and curved legs. In front of the desk was a huge brown leather Bedford office chair, and opposite his desk on the far west side of the room, was a simple black leather couch.
I stepped out of his office, took my tips out of the pocket in my black cocktail dress and put it in my purse, and left the club of into the street. Since the club was situated in the middle of the strip, there was no room for a parking lot right outside the club, instead Joe had bought one a couple of streets down for his employees. The cool breeze hit me straight away sending my blonde hair flying around my face and sending goose bumps up my exposed legs. I rounded the corner of the last street and caught site of my black Audi A4. Ahh, I just loved my car, it was a far cry from my first car. A yellow ford fiesta.
As I came closer to the parking lot, a man came from behind my car and began to stalk forward to me, he had what looked like a small pocket knife in his hand. I froze and began to panic, should I keep going towards my car or turn around and leg it? I wouldn't get that far, seeing as I was in three inch pumps but I could always use them as weapons and launch them at the man. The man who I now recognized as the creep from the club was now only a few meters away. I began walking back putting distance between the man and myself who was still advancing towards me and began to speak as steadily as possible.
"Wh- what are you doing?" I asked, slightly confused. His ego couldn't have been that damaged.