The Velvet Red
Rogue adjusted the skirt of her green dress. That morning, standing in front of her full-length mirror, she had opted for the green one that climbed up her slim legs than the modest, black knee-length skirt she had originally decided on. After all, this type of place called for extreme measures if she was going to get what she came for, and a knee-length anything was not extreme measures. The Velvet Red: it was a place people dreamed of working at. Standing in front of the New York hotspot towering directly in the center of the city, Rogue brought her hand up to tap hesitantly on the glass.
A built man just shy of five foot four with coarse, black hair swung the door open and looked at her. "Hi!" She said brightly, flashing a sweet smile. "Ah'm looking for a Mister Warren Worthington. Is he in?"
He stepped aside and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come in and displaying the broad, white letters spelling 'Security' in stark contrast against the black of his tight tee shirt. It was only about four o' clock and the place wasn't open yet. The only people on the stage were men with brooms and the only ones on the floor were those who were setting down chairs from where they were propped on the table.
The bouncer led Rogue up a flight of winding stairs behind the bar and to a closed door with the words 'Warren Worthington III' printed on the front of it.
"Just knock, darlin'." The bouncer said before disappearing back down the stairs and leaving Rogue facing the door. She slowly brought her hand to it, readying herself to knock, but stopped.
If she was going to do this, she was going to do this right.
Rogue swallowed her fear in one large gulp and straightened her shoulders. She plastered on a confident air and knocked firmly on the door.
"Come in." She heard a decently pleasant voice call from the other side. She opened the door and strutted into the office, stopping only to take an un-offered seat in the chair sitting before his desk.
The man at the desk raised his head from the mass of documents on his desk in interest. Rogue took a sharp intake of air. He was beautiful. He had chiseled features, bronze at the tips, and long sandy waves sleeked back stylishly with gel. "Hello, can I help you?"
"Hi," she said, immediately diving into her southern charm mode. "Mah name's Rogue; Ah was wondering if you were looking foh any help at this charming little spot."
He tilted his head in mild fascination. She was gutsy and it was awfully cute. "Well, I suppose a man is always looking for good help. Do you have any experience?"
She nodded. "Oh yes, suh. Ah've been a waitress for nearly eight years heuh and there and Ah was captain of the school dance team for six years." She finished enthusiastically, adding a smile for good measure. He leaned back in his seat.
"Hmm, I see. Sounds like we could really use you here at The Velvet Red. Stand up for a second. Let me take a look at you."
Rogue stood, trying to look as comfortable as possible considering her heart pumped grapefruits under the bodice of her dress. She twirled once and he nodded approvingly at her slender, graceful body. He particularly liked the shock of white through her auburn mane. "Alright, you've got it." She sighed, her whole body visibly draining tension. " You start tonight. Be here at seven o clock sharp. Go downstairs and you'll see a door directly to your left, it'll say 'Dress.' When you get here you're going to go in and ask for Jean, she'll get you started."
Rogue thanked him and turned to leave, walking satisfied out the door.
**
"Whew girls! They're rowdy tonight!" Elisabeth Braddock stepped into the dressing room and threw her cashmere coat on the couch with a dramatic sweep of the hand before plopping down on it herself.
Jean turned from where she sat applying pearl eye shadow at her dressing table to smile at Betsy. Ororo Munroe stepped through the beaded curtain separating the large dressing closet from the rest of the prep area. She was clad in a red sequenced bodysuit that was halter-topped and stopped at her high thigh, clinging to her like a second skin. It complemented her mocha skin and platinum hair beautifully.
Betsy groaned. "Don't tell me that's our new waitress uniforms!"
Ororo spun around to display it to the two other women. "Cute, huh?" She remarked dryly.
Their complaining came to a halt when their door opened and a twenty-something woman stepped through. She timidly made her way to the center of the room, all eyes on her.
"Can I help you, sweetheart?" Jean asked.
"I'm looking for Jean." She explained, wringing her hands nervously.
"Oh! Well you've found me. You must be the new girl Warren was telling me about. I'm sorry; come on in; drop your stuff. Let's get you suited." She led Rogue through the beaded doorway.
Twenty minutes later, Rogue was dressed in something she thought could quite possibly be illegal in at least nine states. "Don't worry," Ororo said once Rogue re-appeared from the dressing closet. "I'm wearing one just like it, see?"
Betsy, now sporting a leopard print bikini of sorts, turned from curling her sleek, onyx strands. "Yea, it's not so bad when there's someone suffering with you." She smiled good-humoredly, and Rogue decided working here wouldn't be too bad after all. At first, she had had apprehensions about working at a strip club, even if it was The Velvet Red. God, The Velvet Red: the hottest joint in all New York. It was hip, classy, and most importantly, expensive. Cover charge was sixty bucks. This is where the billionaire's that owned the world from their skyscraper offices came to cut loose. Only a selective few made it past the bouncer, whom Rogue had discovered to be a man named Logan. So many of her friends at the café dreamed about working at this place, but those girls didn't have boyfriends like Remy.
Rogue could already tell she would like the people, though. Jean, Ororo, and Betsy were nothing but nice to her, showing her the ropes and filling her in on who and what to stay away from.
"How come you aren't wearing this getup, Betsy?" Rogue asked the beautiful Asian. "Or you either, Jean?"
Jean slipped on a pleated skirt and white button-up, buttoning the garment only halfway to expose her lacy black bra. "Were not on floor tonight. See, two of us will do floor one night, which means waitressing and therefore wearing that little number YOU have on, while the other two does stage- the stripping. Tonight Betts and I do stage. We put you on floor with 'Ro because you already know how to waitress, right?"
Rogue nodded, absorbing all the information in awe. Jean winked at her. "Don't worry about it. Just stick with us, and you'll do fine. Watch us tonight, and maybe tomorrow you can take floor. "
Betsy, standing from her make-up table, slapped her hands together and grinned. "And that's where the REAL money comes from, sweetie!"
The four women laughed joyously as Betsy strutted playfully around the room like a tiger, emphasizing her ridiculous costume.
"God, where does Warren get these things?" She said after they calmed down from their fit of giggles.
"Warren." Rogue said suddenly. "He owns the place, right?"
"Yes, that's right." Ororo replied, hoisting her tray of cigars and wrapping the strap around her neck.
Jean brushed her own mane of curls and caught Rogue's eye in the mirror. "He'll treat you right, just stay out of his way."
The other two nodded in agreement. "But enough about Mister Playboy, is there a man in your life, girlfriend?" Betsy asked, sitting Rogue down to apply her make-up.
The southerner closed her eyes as eyeliner was skimmed across her eyelids. "Yes, actually." The women oohed and awed.
"Do tell!" Jean said as Ororo fastened her scarlet tresses in a twist behind her head.
"Let's see," Rogue began, smiling at the thought of him. "His name is Remy. He's French, well, Cajun. When I moved up heuh about eight months ago from Mississippi, he seemed like the only other person that understood me, being from the south himself and all. Simply, he is the most wonderful man Ah know." She blushed briefly. "Ah know that sounds corny, but he really is. What else can Ah say?"
"Hmm, and does this amazing-"
"No, Jean. Not amazing, I believe the word was wonderful."
"Ah yes. Thank you Elisabeth, I knew you were good for something." Betsy tossed a top hat from the accessory rack to the redhead in playful offense, which she easily deflected. "Does this WONDERFUL Remy know what you do for a living now?"
Rogue nodded. "Yep, because currently Ah am also employed at the Candle Café. He needn't know of my night-job though." She finished with a tight smile. "It works perfectly, too. The cafe doesn't close until three a.m. so I'll always have a reason for coming home late."
Ororo shook her head. "You've really put some thought into this, haven't you?"
Rogue looked away sheepishly. "Nothing more to say: Ah need the money this place has to offer. Ah'm just barely scraping by on my paycheck as a waitress at the café and our rent alone is enough to put me on the streets."
"Doesn't the all wonderful Remy help out?" Betsy asked from the doorway, her theme music slowly beginning. It sounded like something from an old, cheesy Tarzan clip.
"Oh Gawd yes he does! That's the problem. I don't want to have to rely on him anymore. When I moved to New York Ah wanted to make it on my own, not because my boyfriend is a producer for the record label Columbia. Ah want to be able to pay half the rent."
Betsy scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, he can take care of me if he wants!" And with that, she disappeared through the door to the stage.
"Go get 'em, Wild Thing!" Jean called after her, laughing at Betsy's prompt return with 'shut-up.'
Soon after, Ororo and Rogue bid Jean farewell and exited through the other door leading to the floor. "Good luck, kid." Jean flashed a dazzling smile that made Rogue suddenly feel very novice. She had a lot to learn from these women; they were pros.
As she stepped into the crowded, smoky room filled with tasteful dressers and men that actually knew how to sip brandy, and then saw Betsy doing her thing on the stage, Rogue took a deep, lingering breath. She was ready.
Bring on The Velvet Red.
To Be Continued
**Disclaimer: It all belongs to Marvel.
** Just wait. It gets good! I promise! And trust me, though it IS a strip club, I'll do it tastefully.
Rogue adjusted the skirt of her green dress. That morning, standing in front of her full-length mirror, she had opted for the green one that climbed up her slim legs than the modest, black knee-length skirt she had originally decided on. After all, this type of place called for extreme measures if she was going to get what she came for, and a knee-length anything was not extreme measures. The Velvet Red: it was a place people dreamed of working at. Standing in front of the New York hotspot towering directly in the center of the city, Rogue brought her hand up to tap hesitantly on the glass.
A built man just shy of five foot four with coarse, black hair swung the door open and looked at her. "Hi!" She said brightly, flashing a sweet smile. "Ah'm looking for a Mister Warren Worthington. Is he in?"
He stepped aside and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come in and displaying the broad, white letters spelling 'Security' in stark contrast against the black of his tight tee shirt. It was only about four o' clock and the place wasn't open yet. The only people on the stage were men with brooms and the only ones on the floor were those who were setting down chairs from where they were propped on the table.
The bouncer led Rogue up a flight of winding stairs behind the bar and to a closed door with the words 'Warren Worthington III' printed on the front of it.
"Just knock, darlin'." The bouncer said before disappearing back down the stairs and leaving Rogue facing the door. She slowly brought her hand to it, readying herself to knock, but stopped.
If she was going to do this, she was going to do this right.
Rogue swallowed her fear in one large gulp and straightened her shoulders. She plastered on a confident air and knocked firmly on the door.
"Come in." She heard a decently pleasant voice call from the other side. She opened the door and strutted into the office, stopping only to take an un-offered seat in the chair sitting before his desk.
The man at the desk raised his head from the mass of documents on his desk in interest. Rogue took a sharp intake of air. He was beautiful. He had chiseled features, bronze at the tips, and long sandy waves sleeked back stylishly with gel. "Hello, can I help you?"
"Hi," she said, immediately diving into her southern charm mode. "Mah name's Rogue; Ah was wondering if you were looking foh any help at this charming little spot."
He tilted his head in mild fascination. She was gutsy and it was awfully cute. "Well, I suppose a man is always looking for good help. Do you have any experience?"
She nodded. "Oh yes, suh. Ah've been a waitress for nearly eight years heuh and there and Ah was captain of the school dance team for six years." She finished enthusiastically, adding a smile for good measure. He leaned back in his seat.
"Hmm, I see. Sounds like we could really use you here at The Velvet Red. Stand up for a second. Let me take a look at you."
Rogue stood, trying to look as comfortable as possible considering her heart pumped grapefruits under the bodice of her dress. She twirled once and he nodded approvingly at her slender, graceful body. He particularly liked the shock of white through her auburn mane. "Alright, you've got it." She sighed, her whole body visibly draining tension. " You start tonight. Be here at seven o clock sharp. Go downstairs and you'll see a door directly to your left, it'll say 'Dress.' When you get here you're going to go in and ask for Jean, she'll get you started."
Rogue thanked him and turned to leave, walking satisfied out the door.
**
"Whew girls! They're rowdy tonight!" Elisabeth Braddock stepped into the dressing room and threw her cashmere coat on the couch with a dramatic sweep of the hand before plopping down on it herself.
Jean turned from where she sat applying pearl eye shadow at her dressing table to smile at Betsy. Ororo Munroe stepped through the beaded curtain separating the large dressing closet from the rest of the prep area. She was clad in a red sequenced bodysuit that was halter-topped and stopped at her high thigh, clinging to her like a second skin. It complemented her mocha skin and platinum hair beautifully.
Betsy groaned. "Don't tell me that's our new waitress uniforms!"
Ororo spun around to display it to the two other women. "Cute, huh?" She remarked dryly.
Their complaining came to a halt when their door opened and a twenty-something woman stepped through. She timidly made her way to the center of the room, all eyes on her.
"Can I help you, sweetheart?" Jean asked.
"I'm looking for Jean." She explained, wringing her hands nervously.
"Oh! Well you've found me. You must be the new girl Warren was telling me about. I'm sorry; come on in; drop your stuff. Let's get you suited." She led Rogue through the beaded doorway.
Twenty minutes later, Rogue was dressed in something she thought could quite possibly be illegal in at least nine states. "Don't worry," Ororo said once Rogue re-appeared from the dressing closet. "I'm wearing one just like it, see?"
Betsy, now sporting a leopard print bikini of sorts, turned from curling her sleek, onyx strands. "Yea, it's not so bad when there's someone suffering with you." She smiled good-humoredly, and Rogue decided working here wouldn't be too bad after all. At first, she had had apprehensions about working at a strip club, even if it was The Velvet Red. God, The Velvet Red: the hottest joint in all New York. It was hip, classy, and most importantly, expensive. Cover charge was sixty bucks. This is where the billionaire's that owned the world from their skyscraper offices came to cut loose. Only a selective few made it past the bouncer, whom Rogue had discovered to be a man named Logan. So many of her friends at the café dreamed about working at this place, but those girls didn't have boyfriends like Remy.
Rogue could already tell she would like the people, though. Jean, Ororo, and Betsy were nothing but nice to her, showing her the ropes and filling her in on who and what to stay away from.
"How come you aren't wearing this getup, Betsy?" Rogue asked the beautiful Asian. "Or you either, Jean?"
Jean slipped on a pleated skirt and white button-up, buttoning the garment only halfway to expose her lacy black bra. "Were not on floor tonight. See, two of us will do floor one night, which means waitressing and therefore wearing that little number YOU have on, while the other two does stage- the stripping. Tonight Betts and I do stage. We put you on floor with 'Ro because you already know how to waitress, right?"
Rogue nodded, absorbing all the information in awe. Jean winked at her. "Don't worry about it. Just stick with us, and you'll do fine. Watch us tonight, and maybe tomorrow you can take floor. "
Betsy, standing from her make-up table, slapped her hands together and grinned. "And that's where the REAL money comes from, sweetie!"
The four women laughed joyously as Betsy strutted playfully around the room like a tiger, emphasizing her ridiculous costume.
"God, where does Warren get these things?" She said after they calmed down from their fit of giggles.
"Warren." Rogue said suddenly. "He owns the place, right?"
"Yes, that's right." Ororo replied, hoisting her tray of cigars and wrapping the strap around her neck.
Jean brushed her own mane of curls and caught Rogue's eye in the mirror. "He'll treat you right, just stay out of his way."
The other two nodded in agreement. "But enough about Mister Playboy, is there a man in your life, girlfriend?" Betsy asked, sitting Rogue down to apply her make-up.
The southerner closed her eyes as eyeliner was skimmed across her eyelids. "Yes, actually." The women oohed and awed.
"Do tell!" Jean said as Ororo fastened her scarlet tresses in a twist behind her head.
"Let's see," Rogue began, smiling at the thought of him. "His name is Remy. He's French, well, Cajun. When I moved up heuh about eight months ago from Mississippi, he seemed like the only other person that understood me, being from the south himself and all. Simply, he is the most wonderful man Ah know." She blushed briefly. "Ah know that sounds corny, but he really is. What else can Ah say?"
"Hmm, and does this amazing-"
"No, Jean. Not amazing, I believe the word was wonderful."
"Ah yes. Thank you Elisabeth, I knew you were good for something." Betsy tossed a top hat from the accessory rack to the redhead in playful offense, which she easily deflected. "Does this WONDERFUL Remy know what you do for a living now?"
Rogue nodded. "Yep, because currently Ah am also employed at the Candle Café. He needn't know of my night-job though." She finished with a tight smile. "It works perfectly, too. The cafe doesn't close until three a.m. so I'll always have a reason for coming home late."
Ororo shook her head. "You've really put some thought into this, haven't you?"
Rogue looked away sheepishly. "Nothing more to say: Ah need the money this place has to offer. Ah'm just barely scraping by on my paycheck as a waitress at the café and our rent alone is enough to put me on the streets."
"Doesn't the all wonderful Remy help out?" Betsy asked from the doorway, her theme music slowly beginning. It sounded like something from an old, cheesy Tarzan clip.
"Oh Gawd yes he does! That's the problem. I don't want to have to rely on him anymore. When I moved to New York Ah wanted to make it on my own, not because my boyfriend is a producer for the record label Columbia. Ah want to be able to pay half the rent."
Betsy scoffed. "As far as I'm concerned, he can take care of me if he wants!" And with that, she disappeared through the door to the stage.
"Go get 'em, Wild Thing!" Jean called after her, laughing at Betsy's prompt return with 'shut-up.'
Soon after, Ororo and Rogue bid Jean farewell and exited through the other door leading to the floor. "Good luck, kid." Jean flashed a dazzling smile that made Rogue suddenly feel very novice. She had a lot to learn from these women; they were pros.
As she stepped into the crowded, smoky room filled with tasteful dressers and men that actually knew how to sip brandy, and then saw Betsy doing her thing on the stage, Rogue took a deep, lingering breath. She was ready.
Bring on The Velvet Red.
To Be Continued
**Disclaimer: It all belongs to Marvel.
** Just wait. It gets good! I promise! And trust me, though it IS a strip club, I'll do it tastefully.
