Chapter One: Where the Colors Don't Go
-x-
He had no reason to be in this part of town. In fact, a face like his, dressed in a shirt like that, wearing shoes like those certainly wouldn't be found here. And the glances he received merited such assumptions.
He simply wasn't from around here.
And under any other circumstances, he would find it absolutely absurd finding himself here. In such a dark, densely populated, under-developed area.
But after a business deal gone sour, a lost account and the largest lay off his company had ever experienced, Yamato Ishida was in need of a stiff drink. A few of them, really, preferably drowning in whiskey. And all the bars around the city were just too populated with clients he had done business with or employees he had to fire or hire for him to get comfortable.
So he just drove, further and further until he saw the road ending. And for some reason, this specific bar looked just anonymous enough for his mood.
He ducked his head in through the low ceiling door, slow and seductive melodies floating through his ears. The room was dark, hazy, smoke filled. It was just as shabby as it looked, inside and out.
Thankfully, though, the bar wasn't the least bit crowded. And while he found that a bit odd he didn't pay it much mind, mostly because the less time he had to wait the better. He didn't, however, fail to notice the crowd of men a little distance away from the bar. But rather than inquiring, he placed himself on a stool and waited.
A girl came over, bright red hair—shoulder length. Creamy pale skin, most of it exposed by the black strapless corset she donned. She was skinny, but athletic with a nice body and tall. Once she came closer, he could see her eyes sparkling a bright auburn.
They were really pretty.
"What's it gonna be?" She asked, her tone polite but cool.
Yamato cleared his throat. "Surprise me." He said lazily. "Just make it strong and keep 'em coming."
She arched an eyebrow, "Rough day?" She asked.
"Nothing some alcohol won't fix." He prompted her with a nod towards the bar.
She turned her back to him, mixing his drink with efficiency and precision. And Yamato took this time to lean his elbows on the bar and check out her nice ass. Because it was a fine ass.
She returned with his drink, placing it in front of him. "Vodka tonic. Figured it was the fool-proof choice." She offered.
"Whiskey would've been better." He muttered, before swallowing it in one gulp.
She looked impressed.
"I did say keep 'em coming, didn't I?"
She nodded, returning to her previous position.
This time, she came back with a question on her tongue. "I've bartended here since I was eighteen, this is the first I've seen of you." She mentioned. "What brings you around?"
He nearly choked on his drink, her bluntness threw him for a moment. "Nothing special. Just a place I've heard about." He said, sliding the glass across the bar.
She raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me for saying this, but you really don't look like you belong here." She gestured to his professional appearance.
To which, he could agree. Because the people in here were nothing short of desperate. "Downtown Tokyo has too many people I'd rather not run into tonight." He admitted, to her back.
She brought him another drink, "Well, I guess I'm just happy for the business then." She gave him a charming smile. "Sora, by the way." She extended a hand forward.
"Matt." He introduced, because Yamato was much too formal and business oriented. He wanted to be known more comfortably, just for tonight.
Another smile.
"What's with that crowd?" He jabbed a thumb behind him.
She looked surprised. "I haven't been asked that in a while." She laughed.
He gave her an impatient look.
"Her." She answered easily. "Poison Ivy." She elaborated.
Matt still didn't understand, a confused look now evident on his face.
Sora stared at him in awe, "Where do you think you are right now?" She asked him.
"A bar." He answered, quite obviously.
Sora clicked her tongue. "Sweetheart, this ain't just any bar." She pointed to a crooked sign across the room, right above the door.
He squinted blue eyes at it, the content of the faded writing coming into view.
Indulgences: Look But Don't Touch
(Bar and Strip)
He stared at the woman on the other side of the bar, eyes a little wide. He'd been to a strip club just a few times in his life, the first was five years ago on his eighteenth birthday. The rest had been few and far between. However, all the visits had been intentional and premeditated.
Right now, Yamato was caught by surprise.
"Well, don't look like such a virgin." Sora smirked. "I'm sure it isn't your first time in a venue such as this, hot shot."
His poker-face was back, "It's not. I just wasn't expecting it." He answered coolly.
She nodded, retreating to get him another drink.
Matt now turned on his bar stool, his eyes on the crowd of men throwing money on the other side of the room. They crowded around what he now realized was a stage, and he assumed that's where Poison Ivy was performing.
He got a glimpse of her legs at the top of the pole, she must've been upside down, when Sora came back with another drink.
The second the smell hit his nose, he knew it wasn't vodka anymore. Whiskey, the girl must've heard him.
"You can go closer to her, you know. She's far more glamorous up close."
Of that, Matt was sure.
He fished his wallet out of his pants pocket, thumbing through the various bills. He finished off the last of his drink, before placing a crisp hundred dollar bill on the bar. "Keep it, Sora. It was nice meeting you." He said with a gracious smile, before lifting himself out of the stool.
Sora stared at him, a little shocked. "Th-thanks, Matt." She grabbed the bill off her bar.
His feet led him now, though he knew full well where he was headed. Something about just a glimpse of her completely enamored him. And before he could even process it, he was pushing through the other drunk men to get a better look. A longer look. Just a semblance of something substantial. Because what he had seen just was not enough.
The most peculiar aspect of darkness was quite possibly the nanosecond of appreciation we feel when the light chases it away. And when he laid eyes on her, he felt it. That sense of appreciation, that unexplainable gratuity.
As a businessman and a prominent one at that, Matt was used to seeing beautiful women wherever and whenever he desired. They were somewhat of a commodity, just a plaything, keeping him company when he needed it and leaving when he instructed them to. Beauty was easily accessible, especially when one had the means to get it.
So pure, So rare…
But her…she was something else. Radiant and compelling and completely captivating. She had his attention from the moment he saw her, all of her. Her hair, long and dark—like a Raven's feathers, falling in soft waves over her bare shoulders interchangeably. Her face, heart shaped. Her skin light and flawless, almost too perfect—like porcelain. She had bow shaped lips, coated in a shimmering shade of dark red, pursed into a sexy pout.
To witness such an earthly goddess
Her legs, long and lean—the picture of perfection, stretching around the slender pole effortlessly. As her body twisted around it, agonizingly slow, his eyes panned over the rest of her body carefully. He could feel the effects of her already, his pants feeling tighter as his eyes landed on her breasts. Just barely covered by a sequined garment that was more akin to a bikini top than a shirt, matching the silver underwear she had on.
That I've lost my self control
Yamato watched her move and sway for what felt like hours or even years, he was lost in her. She was like a siren and he was Odysseus, she was calling to him and he couldn't deny her. Her eyes, hazel and clouded, finally landed on his, keeping his gaze trapped with her own.
But just like that, she blinked away from his stare. It was only when he saw her hand reaching around the knot that kept her top on that he registered once more they were not alone. There were at least forty other men around him, and she was about to be almost completely naked.
He had the overwhelming urge to shield her body from their hungry eyes, protect her from their disgusting looks and hardening libidos. And make sure that if she was going to get naked, it would only be for him.
But he swallowed that urge along with his pride, fished out a fifty and threw it on stage, before turning his back on her. He wouldn't contribute to what he felt was her own humiliation. If he couldn't stop them, he would certainly stop himself.
Beyond compelled to throw this bill down before
Your holiest of altars.
-x-
Matt had lost track of how long he had been waiting outside of the dimly lit club, just passing by the time until he felt sober again. He contemplated sleeping in his car, but he remembered he had work the next morning and this part of town was very far from his condo.
His eyes fell on the clock, it read 3:42AM. He slammed his head against the steering wheel, partially out of frustration and partially because he needed to get her image out of his head.
He had spend a good amount of time trying to convince himself that he felt this strongly for a woman he never met because she was insanely beautiful and he was drunk. But as the time ticked by, he became less drunk but not any less obsessed. He just wanted to know her. Hell, he would settle for a few minutes alone with her if that's all he ever got.
He just wanted to see her, one last time.
Matt had always considered himself a lucky man, he was usually dealt a good hand and got more than he asked for. Success and achievement had come relatively easy, he'd made quite a name for himself in a very short amount of time and he knew it wasn't all of his own accord. A lot of times, it was just by chance—being in the right place at the right time.
Such was tonight.
Because out of the back door came the one thing he'd been dying to see.
Poison Ivy.
And she was alone.
He cut the engine to his car and threw open the door hastily, he'd never been so careless with his car in his life. But right now, nothing mattered but her.
He wanted to run up to her, catch her before she was gone again. Because to him, she was as elusive as the wind and less attainable than the moon.
She was wearing a long coat, her legs covered by leather boots. Her dark hair was up in a pony tail, her face was devoid of make up. Between her red lips was a cigarette, in her hand a lighter.
"That's bad for you, you know." It wasn't the most debonair thing he'd ever said, but it seemed to break the ice.
Her eyes snapped up to him, "Most things are." She said, her expression—bored.
"That was quite the performance." He managed to keep the cynicism out of his tone, he certainly didn't want to offend her.
If she was, she didn't seem it. "Same shit, different day." She answered easily.
He, on the other hand, looked a little surprised. Mostly because, he didn't think someone as small and seemingly fragile as her could have such a sharp tongue.
"Been doing this very long?"
She blew out a puff of smoke, cigarette between her fingers. "You know, I knew you didn't look familiar. But now I know you can't be from around here." She smirked.
"Why's that?"
"Because, no one cares to ask me that…ever."
He felt the corners of his mouth turn downward subconsciously. "Well, I'm not from around here. But what difference does it make in regards to my question?"
She shrugged. "It doesn't. But nothing really makes a difference anyway." She said, taking another drag. "Three years, on and off." She answered, with out the least bit of shame.
He felt his heart sink just a little lower, feeling a strong sense of sadness for the girl he had just met. It just didn't seem fair something as stunning as her should be subjected to such a vile occupation.
And she looked so painfully young…
"Well, I can see why they keep coming back." He nodded towards the inside of the club.
She gave a dry, humor-less laugh. "To watch me take off my clothes." She muttered, blowing out more smoke.
It was a bitter statement, holding a lot of resentment. And he really wanted to ask her why she kept doing it, if it made her unhappy. But he knew that he couldn't.
Matt pulled a hand through his short blonde hair, "How old are you, anyway?" He asked.
"Twenty-two." She answered.
She was just a year younger than him.
"And college didn't app—
"Who are you?" She interrupted him. "Why are you asking me all these questions?"
He was caught off guard by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I…I just. I mean, it's late and I thought I'd give you some company."
"Well thanks for the concern, but I've been in darker places than this."
Her words had a double meaning, it seemed like everything she said did. But this one was particularly obvious.
Her cigarette was almost burnt out and Matt knew she would be leaving. But it was too soon.
"Can I give you a lift home?" He offered boldly.
Her eyes widened a little, a miniscule smile on her face. "I've got my own car, Wall Street." She said with a grin. "Besides, I think you're still drunk."
"I can drive." He swore.
She shook her head. "I'm good, but thanks anyway."
He watched as she pushed off the wall and began walking away. Before he knew it, he called out to her. "Wait!"
She stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around.
"Can I at least know your name?" Matt asked.
She was stoic for a moment, silence setting between them. Finally, she turned to face him, a few feet between them. "Why?"
"Why?" He asked her, confused.
She nodded. "What's it to you?"
For that, he had no answer.
Still, there was something about him that left her a little curious too. "It's Mimi." She said slowly, she wasn't used to saying it here.
"Mimi." He repeated, it was much more appealing than Poison Ivy, he decided.
She nodded. "But don't go spreading it around." She held a finger to her lips.
He gave her an irresistible grin, "Wouldn't dream of it." He promised.
She cracked a half smile, "Good." She gave him a curt nod. "But just so we're even, what's yours?"
"Matt." He answered immediately, he'd tell her almost anything she asked if it meant keeping her here.
Because there was so much of her that was such an enigma to him and he just wanted to get close enough to figure her out.
"Well, I hope to see you again, Matt." Her voice had lost the edginess it had possessed earlier, now taking on a more melodic quality.
For the second time tonight, he stopped her as she was leaving.
"What?" She asked, exasperated but a little amused.
"When?"
She looked at him tiredly. "When what?"
"When can I see you again?"
Her face melted into a charming grin. "As many times as I've been propositioned outside of this place, none have been so plain."
He didn't say anything.
"The next time you come into Indulgences, of course." She winked.
And this time when she turned away, he couldn't call her back.
She leaves me in the moonlight
Only to burn me with the sun
And she's takin' my heart
She doesn't know what she's done…
-x-
A/N: Oh dear, here we go with another story. I know, you all hate me because I start things and don't finish them but I couldn't help it with this one. I couldn't think of anything else but this story. I haven't been inspired like this in a long time, I actually got the idea from this episode of Degrassi. Anyway, I don't plan on making this a long epic story. Ten chapters, maximum. I know what I want to do with it and I've got a plan. Finals are this week and next, but after that, expect updates for a lot of my stories (hopefully) but especially this one.
I know things are a little vague, but I think the premise is clear. Mimi is a stripper, and Matt is a rich businessman. Of course, things are more complicated than that, but this is only the beginning. I also know this is VERY different from my usual stuff (you know, high school angst/rebellion) but give it a chance!
Credits: Digimon DOES NOT belong to me and neither do the following songs (in the order that they appear):
Where the Colors Don't Go by Sam Phillips
Magdalena by A Perfect Circle
She's Like the Wind by Lumidee and Tony Sunshine
Well, as always, read and review! I look forward to hearing from all of you lovely people!
Ciao!
-Chris.
P.S-The Rating will most likely go up towards the end (not one hundred percent yet), but just keep that in mind!