Oh yes, my legions of loyal fans, I have returned! Of course, returned
being with a completely new story, and not an update to any my other
stories, awaiting work. . One day, they will get finished. Hopefully.
Anyhow, this story just kind of came to me the other night. To be
completely honest, I'm still not really sure as to what the title even has
to do with anything. But I'm working on it, I think I have a way of tying
it in. :)
But if any of you who read this are currently wondering about any of my
other stories, whether they be CCS or WK or anything else, well, just a
note. I'm done classes for the semester, but have an exam next Monday,
which I must spend lots of time studying for. Then, by some luck of the
draw, my boyfriend got a call out with the army down here (finally the army
does something right!) so since we were apart for three months, I'm still
in the phase of wanting to be glued to his side as often as possible.
Therefore, when he's here, I'm not on the 'puter. He's spending the two
weeks of Christmas at my house, so I won't have much of an opportunity to
write then. . But anyways, my point, if there was one...
If anyone is wondering about my beautiful array of banned NC-17 stories,
I've finally decided on a design for my personal website, so hopefully over
the next few weeks when I am on, I can at least get those uploaded there,
and then get whatever updates I have up. Heck I might even put them up on
here again, but, um, "fix" them so I can just rate them R this time. Heck
none of them were even really bad enough to warrant NC-17, I just chose
that because kids who shouldn't be reading them are less likely to read NC-
17 then they are to read R. Silly ff.net, I'm still pissed off at you punks
for that banning decision. :P
Okay when you start fearing that your intro rant is going to become longer
than your chapter, it's time to shut the hell up. So now I will shut the
hell up, and get this baby going.
A note, the song referred to and quoted in this chapter is "Spin Spin
Sugar" by the Sneaker Pimps. That is all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The lights were dimmed low, some glowed red, others their usual yellowish- white. The few spotlights centred on the stage provided an almost cheap contrast to the regular lighting, as their blue and violet tints did nothing to match the reds and yellows. Everything there was mismatched; from the lighting, to the tables and chairs, the drinks, the customers. There was every type in the house tonight; the dirty pervert, out for a cheap thrill; the successful businessman, whose wife just wasn't satisfying him anymore; the young college boys, postponing their studies in favour of a little skin. But perhaps the most noticeable contrast was in the performers. There was your token implant queen, blonde hair and red lips; your lonely housewife, sinking to new lows for some excitement; the junkie girls, the cracking down of street police forcing them to flee to joints in order to make their cash. But perhaps the one, who stood out the most, was the one sitting at the bar, passing the time until her turn came up, nursing a glass of cinnamon whiskey. Having that cinnamon tainted taste in her mouth often helped. She looked up from her glass, eyeing the time.
"Why don't you go back and get ready sugar? No sense in sitting out here." She looked up at the man who spoke to her, a faint smile on her lips.
"I'm fine Ken, but thank you for inquiring." Her eyes followed him, as he nodded his head and shrugged, walking down to the other end of the bar, taking an order from a sweaty overweight man. She shuddered and reminded herself what she was doing here, and why she needed this money. Her eyes drifted back to Ken. For as much as the older man seemed to worry about her well-being, she often found herself worrying about his. She knew Ken was currently seeking to avoid the tax creditors, a few unpaid credit card bills a parting present from his ex-wife. If she weren't so desperately in need of the money from this job herself, she would graciously fork over all her earnings to the man who had been the only one who seemed to care about her here. For as much as the other girls fawned over her and played mother to her, she knew that to them, she was only competition. She looked back down the bar at that man who had ordered a drink, and found it hard to convince herself to stay. Before any bad memories could force their way into her mind, she threw her head back and finished off her glass, the tingling sensation it caused on her lips a welcome distraction. She got up from her stool at the bar, and quietly made her way to the back. She listened to the pounding rhythms booming from the speakers; glad she at least was granted the choice of performing to whichever song she wanted. She entered the changing room, stopping in front of the mirrors to check her appearance. Perfect, as always. Not a thing out of place. Except for her.
"Why are you still here darling? You should go home, get yourself work elsewhere. At least at some higher rate club or something. You don't belong here, you know that."
"And if I didn't, you'd continue telling me so until the day I finally left, wouldn't you?" She smiled at the woman in front of her, 24 years old, looking 34. Rina was a heroin addict, having spent the better part of her adolescence working as a prostitute on the streets of Tokyo. She never tired in telling her how she shouldn't be here, that she was too good for it.
"Rina, if I left, I'd take you with me. No one really deserves to be at a place like this. But sometimes it's just the only thing we can get away with. I would never chance one of those high profile places, I'd doubtless run into someone who knew someone, who slept with the wrong person and wanted revenge. Enter the lovely cut-throat business world of darling daddy." She sighed, hugging Rina. Rina was really the only other performer here she cared about. She wasn't lying when it came to taking Rina away; Rina was another one of her fantasy charity cases, much like Ken. If only she could manage, she'd take them both and leave. Odd thoughts for a 16- year-old girl to have of grown adults, but some people just don't know how to properly care for themselves.
"Are you on next?" Rina sat down on one of the benches, slowly removing her attire.
"Yeah, as soon as Atsuko is done."
"Hey, anything to get her nasty butt off the stage works for me." Rina laughed at her own joke, receiving a smile in return for the attempted humour.
"The sooner she comes off though, the sooner you have to talk to her, don't forget." Rina made a face, and began changing more quickly. Atsuko's music came to an end, and she came off, brushing past everyone in a hurry to count the money stuffed into her thong and bra. The young Chinese girl shook her head, mentally preparing herself for what came next. She mounted the steps, removing her slippers and leaving them at the back of the stage. She heard the announcer make his usual announcement about her being their favourite innocent virgin girl, and as usual she tried to keep from crying out against the false pretences he was placing her under. But she put on her game face, and walked out to the center of the stage, in time with her own music. She mouthed along to the lyrics, her usual routine enhanced by this song in particular.
~I'm everyone, I feel used, I'm everyone, I need you, I'm everyone, peg your label on me, I'm everyone, paint it black and white and easy~
She focused on several men in the audience surrounding the stage, her experience able to pick out the ones who would offer the highest tips, and who would likely be the easiest to con into a personal show later on. She was on her knees in front of a man, one she'd seen for a few weeks now, but who had never braved the stage seating before. She mouthed to him "call on me, spin spin sugar, crawl on me, spin spin sugar" in perfect timing with the music, tilting her head from side to side, twisting her body around, so that she was lying on her back in front of him, all the while never allowing her eyes to leave his. He surprised her by leaning over her face, and whispering in her ear, so low she was uncertain whether or not she had heard him correctly.
"Make your money quickly Meiling, before you become my property." His words startled her; how did he know her name? No real names were allowed to be revealed to customers, and no one who dared to come here could possibly know who she was. She continued her routine, a little shaken, and on the opposite side of the stage from him. She could feel his eyes on her back, as though they were tearing into her, revealing her plans. Her music got lower, and she realized her set was over, but she was so engaged in thought about that man that she hadn't noticed it coming. She quickly exited the stage, not looking forward to the rest of her night. Now she would have private sessions set up for her, with any interested customers. The sessions were supposed to be display only, but she made extra money under the table if more went on. And sometimes, depending on the customer, she didn't have a choice.
"So I see the shadow king has finally braved the stage, huh?" Rina watched as Meiling walked right past her, heading to the bench in order to sit down. She sat down beside the young girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Did something happen out there sweetie?" Rina tightened her grip a little on Meiling's shoulder, very curious as to what had occurred.
"Rina, in all your time working these places, has anyone ever known your name?" Meiling looked into the face of her friend, eager for an answer.
"Well, they say names aren't supposed to be revealed, but I have known a few club managers to give out names in exchange for money. Did that guy know your name?" Meiling nodded, as Rina's eyes registered understanding. "Don't worry about it sweetie. It's no big deal really, he's probably just some creep wanting a little extra." Meiling nodded, unsure as to whether she should tell Rina about what he had said, or whether she ought to keep it to herself. Interrupting her thoughts, the club manager entered the back room where the girls were, and called out a few names.
"Alright girls, time for your favourite part of the night. Those of you whose names I called, can go on over to the green room. As for Atsuko and Sugar, you two have caught the eyes of some fine men. Atsuko, go on up to the black room. As for you Sugar, you have a special presentation to make in the red room." Upon hearing her stage name of Sugar, Meiling stood up, worry creasing her face. She took her time in heading up the stairs to the red room, not looking forward to the next two hours at all.
She stopped in front of the door, and made an attempt to control her breathing. What if her customer was that man from the stage, the one who knew her name? What could he want? She was convinced he wanted more than some two hours of fun like Rina believed. She entered the room, and let her eyes fall on the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the man who knew her name. But it was the grossly overweight man, shirt soaked with sweat, and forehead beaded with perspiration. She reluctantly made her way towards him, not happy with the idea that she had to spend the next two hours at his beck and call.
But money had to be made. And this was the quickest way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The lights were dimmed low, some glowed red, others their usual yellowish- white. The few spotlights centred on the stage provided an almost cheap contrast to the regular lighting, as their blue and violet tints did nothing to match the reds and yellows. Everything there was mismatched; from the lighting, to the tables and chairs, the drinks, the customers. There was every type in the house tonight; the dirty pervert, out for a cheap thrill; the successful businessman, whose wife just wasn't satisfying him anymore; the young college boys, postponing their studies in favour of a little skin. But perhaps the most noticeable contrast was in the performers. There was your token implant queen, blonde hair and red lips; your lonely housewife, sinking to new lows for some excitement; the junkie girls, the cracking down of street police forcing them to flee to joints in order to make their cash. But perhaps the one, who stood out the most, was the one sitting at the bar, passing the time until her turn came up, nursing a glass of cinnamon whiskey. Having that cinnamon tainted taste in her mouth often helped. She looked up from her glass, eyeing the time.
"Why don't you go back and get ready sugar? No sense in sitting out here." She looked up at the man who spoke to her, a faint smile on her lips.
"I'm fine Ken, but thank you for inquiring." Her eyes followed him, as he nodded his head and shrugged, walking down to the other end of the bar, taking an order from a sweaty overweight man. She shuddered and reminded herself what she was doing here, and why she needed this money. Her eyes drifted back to Ken. For as much as the older man seemed to worry about her well-being, she often found herself worrying about his. She knew Ken was currently seeking to avoid the tax creditors, a few unpaid credit card bills a parting present from his ex-wife. If she weren't so desperately in need of the money from this job herself, she would graciously fork over all her earnings to the man who had been the only one who seemed to care about her here. For as much as the other girls fawned over her and played mother to her, she knew that to them, she was only competition. She looked back down the bar at that man who had ordered a drink, and found it hard to convince herself to stay. Before any bad memories could force their way into her mind, she threw her head back and finished off her glass, the tingling sensation it caused on her lips a welcome distraction. She got up from her stool at the bar, and quietly made her way to the back. She listened to the pounding rhythms booming from the speakers; glad she at least was granted the choice of performing to whichever song she wanted. She entered the changing room, stopping in front of the mirrors to check her appearance. Perfect, as always. Not a thing out of place. Except for her.
"Why are you still here darling? You should go home, get yourself work elsewhere. At least at some higher rate club or something. You don't belong here, you know that."
"And if I didn't, you'd continue telling me so until the day I finally left, wouldn't you?" She smiled at the woman in front of her, 24 years old, looking 34. Rina was a heroin addict, having spent the better part of her adolescence working as a prostitute on the streets of Tokyo. She never tired in telling her how she shouldn't be here, that she was too good for it.
"Rina, if I left, I'd take you with me. No one really deserves to be at a place like this. But sometimes it's just the only thing we can get away with. I would never chance one of those high profile places, I'd doubtless run into someone who knew someone, who slept with the wrong person and wanted revenge. Enter the lovely cut-throat business world of darling daddy." She sighed, hugging Rina. Rina was really the only other performer here she cared about. She wasn't lying when it came to taking Rina away; Rina was another one of her fantasy charity cases, much like Ken. If only she could manage, she'd take them both and leave. Odd thoughts for a 16- year-old girl to have of grown adults, but some people just don't know how to properly care for themselves.
"Are you on next?" Rina sat down on one of the benches, slowly removing her attire.
"Yeah, as soon as Atsuko is done."
"Hey, anything to get her nasty butt off the stage works for me." Rina laughed at her own joke, receiving a smile in return for the attempted humour.
"The sooner she comes off though, the sooner you have to talk to her, don't forget." Rina made a face, and began changing more quickly. Atsuko's music came to an end, and she came off, brushing past everyone in a hurry to count the money stuffed into her thong and bra. The young Chinese girl shook her head, mentally preparing herself for what came next. She mounted the steps, removing her slippers and leaving them at the back of the stage. She heard the announcer make his usual announcement about her being their favourite innocent virgin girl, and as usual she tried to keep from crying out against the false pretences he was placing her under. But she put on her game face, and walked out to the center of the stage, in time with her own music. She mouthed along to the lyrics, her usual routine enhanced by this song in particular.
~I'm everyone, I feel used, I'm everyone, I need you, I'm everyone, peg your label on me, I'm everyone, paint it black and white and easy~
She focused on several men in the audience surrounding the stage, her experience able to pick out the ones who would offer the highest tips, and who would likely be the easiest to con into a personal show later on. She was on her knees in front of a man, one she'd seen for a few weeks now, but who had never braved the stage seating before. She mouthed to him "call on me, spin spin sugar, crawl on me, spin spin sugar" in perfect timing with the music, tilting her head from side to side, twisting her body around, so that she was lying on her back in front of him, all the while never allowing her eyes to leave his. He surprised her by leaning over her face, and whispering in her ear, so low she was uncertain whether or not she had heard him correctly.
"Make your money quickly Meiling, before you become my property." His words startled her; how did he know her name? No real names were allowed to be revealed to customers, and no one who dared to come here could possibly know who she was. She continued her routine, a little shaken, and on the opposite side of the stage from him. She could feel his eyes on her back, as though they were tearing into her, revealing her plans. Her music got lower, and she realized her set was over, but she was so engaged in thought about that man that she hadn't noticed it coming. She quickly exited the stage, not looking forward to the rest of her night. Now she would have private sessions set up for her, with any interested customers. The sessions were supposed to be display only, but she made extra money under the table if more went on. And sometimes, depending on the customer, she didn't have a choice.
"So I see the shadow king has finally braved the stage, huh?" Rina watched as Meiling walked right past her, heading to the bench in order to sit down. She sat down beside the young girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Did something happen out there sweetie?" Rina tightened her grip a little on Meiling's shoulder, very curious as to what had occurred.
"Rina, in all your time working these places, has anyone ever known your name?" Meiling looked into the face of her friend, eager for an answer.
"Well, they say names aren't supposed to be revealed, but I have known a few club managers to give out names in exchange for money. Did that guy know your name?" Meiling nodded, as Rina's eyes registered understanding. "Don't worry about it sweetie. It's no big deal really, he's probably just some creep wanting a little extra." Meiling nodded, unsure as to whether she should tell Rina about what he had said, or whether she ought to keep it to herself. Interrupting her thoughts, the club manager entered the back room where the girls were, and called out a few names.
"Alright girls, time for your favourite part of the night. Those of you whose names I called, can go on over to the green room. As for Atsuko and Sugar, you two have caught the eyes of some fine men. Atsuko, go on up to the black room. As for you Sugar, you have a special presentation to make in the red room." Upon hearing her stage name of Sugar, Meiling stood up, worry creasing her face. She took her time in heading up the stairs to the red room, not looking forward to the next two hours at all.
She stopped in front of the door, and made an attempt to control her breathing. What if her customer was that man from the stage, the one who knew her name? What could he want? She was convinced he wanted more than some two hours of fun like Rina believed. She entered the room, and let her eyes fall on the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't the man who knew her name. But it was the grossly overweight man, shirt soaked with sweat, and forehead beaded with perspiration. She reluctantly made her way towards him, not happy with the idea that she had to spend the next two hours at his beck and call.
But money had to be made. And this was the quickest way.