by T. L Smith
I just might cut you when you aren’t looking.
“What’s your name, pretty one?” Brown eyes asks me, he’s the one who ordered and his name is Ace. Dazzling smile, who I now know is Carter and is second in charge, watches me. While Gabe, with the bald head, looks around assessing and taking notes on everything.
Gabe’s a watcher, I have to remember that.
“Issy.” I smile back to him
Ace’s hand reaches out and touches my leg. “Why don’t you dance for me?”
I didn’t expect his touch, nor is it welcomed, but I’ve talked myself into accepting their touch. Telling myself that it would be just like any of the other guys I’ve been with. I’ve been working on ways to try and numb myself to it. But when his hands touch me, something sparks inside me and it takes everything in me to not pull his hand away and scream. You all killed my family.
Instead of shaking his hand off I look to Benny who starts walking in our direction. “I’ve picked the best dancers for you. Issy here… she’s just a waitress,” Benny says, tapping me on my shoulder as Ace lets go of my leg. His touch is burning my leg, I don’t want it there.
“Show me, and I will keep her around,” Ace says sitting back, his hand dropping away, the burn that was there all of a sudden gone. Relief washes over my entire body.
Gabe looks to me and then back to the stage.
Sharon steps out dressed in sky-high heels and everything goes black. When the stage lights come on, no one can see anything but her in the middle. She’s sitting on a chair, water washing over her white cut-off top like a rainfall, and she starts her dance. All eyes are on her—she’s damn good. Better than I could ever have hoped to be. I was trained in dance when I was a little girl. It’s the only thing I couldn’t bring myself to continue after they passed away. My mother was my biggest cheerleader, and my father never missed a recital.
That’s the past, though.
It’s no more.
I have to concentrate on the present, and the present is right in front of me.
So close I can taste it.
Walking away, I go to the bar where Heather’s watching Sharon work her magic on stage.
“Holy hell, I want to be like her,” she says with envy in her beautiful voice. Heather is gorgeously stunning. She doesn’t see it though, and that’s a problem. I want her to see she can have more—more than this place offers. It’s hard when you’ve been spoken down to your whole life. She told me all about her family and how they used and picked on her, and how the minute she could, she left that trailer and came here. Heather lives in a hotel which charges fuck all to rent a room, and she works as much as I do, so she’s saving her money wisely.
“Then do it,” I say while reaching for a cigarette.
“You can’t have a break yet, you have to serve them.” Heather nods to the boys.
With a quick glance over my shoulder I watch them all transfixed on Sharon’s gyrating body and say, “She still has two minutes of dance left. I’ll be back in one, ready to serve them.” I give her a quick smile.
“Okay.” She looks away from me and I slip out the front. I’m not an everyday smoker, more of a ‘fuck my nerves are shot’ kind of smoker. And right now I need it desperately.
“A lady like you shouldn’t be smoking. That shit’ll kill you.” A voice scares the living daylights out of me making me jump away from the wall. A guy is standing there with a smoke to his lips. I didn’t see him, but then again I didn’t look. There’s never anyone here, only the girls who sneak out here for a cigarette.
“I’m hard to kill,” I say lighting it up and taking the first drag.
He doesn’t say anything further, but when I turn to look at him, he’s already watching me. I can’t see him properly as he isn’t under the light like I am, which helps him to see every inch of me. “Do you like to stalk strip clubs?” I ask.
He laughs. It’s deep and throaty and it matches his voice. “Depends what I need. Today, I need someone, so here I am, out front of a strip club.”
I take my time and spend a little longer, but then realize I need to be back inside, so I throw my half-finished cigarette butt to the ground and step on it with my heel. “Good luck getting what you need.” I wave him off as I attempt to place my hand on the handle, but his voice stops me before I can pull the door open. Turning to look at him, he steps into the light. Now, if I wasn’t a woman on a mission, I would absolutely stay because what I see is one fine specimen of a man. He’s not your average looking man. No, not at all. He has a scar just above his lip, his short hair is a medium blond, and he’s dressed in a high-end suit. His cheekbones are sharp and strong, and his lips are more than a little kissable.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I smile at him. “My momma taught me to never divulge my name to strangers. Goodbye.” I step away because I have a job to do, and this man—no, scratch that—no man, will ever deter me from my goals in this life.
I’ve come to terms that I may die doing what I need to do.
Vengeance comes in many forms, and in my case, it’s worth paying the ultimate sacrifice to achieve. And I’m okay with that. This is why I’m staying away from forming any attachments. Heather might become a problem, but right now, she isn’t and hopefully, she stays that way.
Walking past her, I grab the tray which has fresh tumblers with ice and topped with whiskey, and carry them over to the guys who are now talking as Sharon’s finished her dance.
“Pretty one, sit, come chat with me.” Ace taps his leg reaching for me as I place the tumblers carefully on the table and am pulled directly into his lap. The second time isn’t so bad, I’m more prepared now to be touched by these men. I thought I was the first time, but I definitely wasn’t, but I have been working on numbing those fears that build up inside me.
“Oh… pretty one, I like the pink hair,” Carter says, smiling up at me. “Tell me, pretty one, do you dance?” He points to the stage.
I smile and grab a lock of pink hair to twirl it around my finger in a sexy gesture. “Well, I got moves.”
“Show us, pretty one. Get up there and dance for me.” Ace slaps my ass as I stand, and I smile, keeping that fake smile glued to my face with the touch of their hands on my body.
As he finishes speaking, Benny walks over with some papers and takes a seat opposite Carter. “Issy, you can go now.” He waves me off.
Ace speaks, “No. She’s going to dance for us before we leave. Aren’t you?”
I look past him to the stage. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. The floor’s still wet from Sharon’s performance, but I can work with that.
“Issy isn’t a dancer, are you?” Benny states in an attempt to get me out of it.
But honestly, I want to do this.
This is my first in.
I need it.
I’m going to take it.
“I am actually.”
Benny stares at me as if I just grew a second head.
Maybe I have?
“Since when?”
My smile is big and fake and courageous. “Since… forever. Why don’t you play me something slow, Benny?”
The boys clap but it’s Ace who speaks next, “Yes, Benny, why don’t you go and organize the music.”
Benny stands and huffs, his large belly bounces as he walks away. He doesn’t argue with these men. When it’s just Benny he’s the boss, when they’re here he’s less than nothing.
“Go on, pretty one, show us what you got.”
I look around, they’re the only customers left. Heather’s still standing at the bar with her eyes glued on us. She wants to be me right now, and I’m afraid she may hate me after what I’m about to do. Smiling at her, she offers me a small wave as I step up onto the stage. I don’t look at Heather when the music starts as my hips gyrate and my hands roam. The water on the floor forms a puddle due to the lip around the edge which makes it easier to clean, but it proves well for what I have planned. I need to make thi
s better than Sharon, and Sharon’s an excellent dancer, one of the best I’ve ever seen.
Crawling on the floor, my ass moves up and down as I push myself off and my knees slide taking me close to the edge. My skirt is up near my belly and all I’m wearing is a G-string underneath. I undo the buttons slowly, sensually, making it fall away from my body and into the puddle. My hands roam my round, firm breasts and I suck a finger into my mouth before I stand up. The beat of the music becomes stronger and soon my mind takes over my body’s movements. I don’t look over at them so I have no idea how they’re reacting, my body and mind concentrating only on what I’m doing.
It’s a magical place.
It’s somewhere I’ve missed.
I’m on the edge of reality and I know I will get lost in it easily.
My pink hair sticks to my face as I come down in a center split and I hear a cheer. Pulling my body forward, I crawl to the edge in an erotic, yet sensual pose. Whistles are becoming louder as the music comes to an end, and when I look up Benny’s staring at me with wide eyes.
Reaching for my skirt, I place it back on and climb down from the stage. When I look up, the guy who was outside is standing there in the doorway with a wicked smile, as he watches and my heart skips a beat before he turns and disappears. I blink a few times wondering if I actually saw him there, but then I notice him again by the door.
“What the fuck was that, Issy?” Benny questions while taking my hand.
“Who’s that?” I don’t answer his question. Instead, I nod toward the guy who’s leaving via the front door.
Benny looks, but shakes his head. “Issy, what the fuck was that?”
With a broad smile, I look back at Benny. “I danced.”
He throws his hands in the air. “Why didn’t you tell me you could dance like that? You just spring shit like that on me?” He shakes his head and I tap on his shoulder to calm him down. Benny seems like an okay kind of guy. He’s always respectful to us which we all appreciate.
“You’ve never asked if I can dance, Benny.”
Benny groans as a hand touches me from behind me and lies on my shoulder.
“Pretty one, feel like earning some extra cash tonight?” His hand makes me jump, and I instantly calm down when I know I’m not in danger, yet.
I turn away from Benny, and Ace’s hand drops in the process.
Benny has a look of concern written all over his face which I try to not decipher.
“Yes, of course.”
“Good, get dressed. You come with us.”
I quickly go out back to change. Keeping my wig on, I change into another small but slightly looser skirt and put on a shirt. This one comes up my belly and barely covers my tits, but ties in the middle. Just as I go to fix my makeup, Heather walks in, and her face shows shock, sadness, and it’s not something I think I can deal with right now. I need my head clear for what I’m about to do, and she can’t be making me feel bad.
“You… you know how to dance?” I nod putting on a fresh coat of lipstick. “Will you… will you teach me?”
“Heather…” I trail off.
She’s looking at me with such hope—who am I to crush that.
“Sure.”
Heather claps her hands and wraps her arms around me. “You’re my best friend, Issy. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” I tap her back, not one to cuddle and pull away. “You’re going with them, aren’t you?”
“It’s best you go home, Heather. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I successfully avoid her question.
3
Isadora
They take me in their limousine which is all white inside with champagne and crystal glasses neatly stacked on a bench. The guys all talk to themselves on the way over only glancing my way a few times offering me a drink which I decline. Leaving my busted-up crappy car in the parking lot. We continue to head to a high-class neighborhood and a mansion comes into view. Cars are lined up, and they’re not your average cars, these are Rolls Royces, Lamborghinis and whatever other high-end cars you can imagine. This place is luxury on steroids.
I glance down at what I’m wearing and cringe.
I’m not dressed for a place like this.
Holding my bag to me for cover and support, Ace steps around the car as a butler, or some shit, opens the door for me. Ace places a hand on my ass to guide me through the double French doors. My nerves are on tenterhooks, I’ve been preparing for this moment for so long, and to now be in their home and to have access to what I would never have had access to before, my body hums with excitement. Music blares and girls are walking around naked. Men are sitting on seats. There’s drinks or drugs in their hand as they watch on, all of them sporting some sort of hard-on tucked away inside their pants.
Ace’s hand comes into my view, and when I see the symbol inked in the brighter light, I know exactly what I have to do and what I want to do tonight that will make me feel better.
There are nine members of the Italian Mafia who walked into my parents’ little shop that day and killed them. Each one of them had a tattoo between their thumb and index finger—a skull inked in red.
It’s a picture I can’t seem to erase from my mind.
That’s the symbol right there on his hand.
It’s the mark I have to look for, it’s the mark that I know is responsible for destroying my family.
I eye the other hands and notice all three of them have that exact tattooed symbol. Without realizing it they have made my night a little easier.
“Pretty thing, why don’t you change and get ready to dance?” Ace slaps my ass a bit too hard, but I smile anyway dropping my bag to the floor and pulling my shirt off over my head while plastering on a fake smile.
“Tell me where you want me, bad boy.”
Ace chuckles and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “This one is mine.” He slaps my ass again—fucker.
“Ace,” a voice booms.
Ace stops in his tracks, places me gently on the floor, and smiles at me. “Stay, I’ll be back.” I wink and he leans in planting a kiss on my lips. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I blush at his comment as he turns to leave. He slaps some other girls’ asses as he walks past them, and when I look for the other boys they have also disappeared. Pulling my bag up close, I check around. Ace walked out the back, but in front of me is a marble staircase.
To say fear doesn’t live in me right now would be a lie.
The what if’s are playing games in my head.
What if I get caught?
What if they work out exactly who I am?
What if they work out what I’m doing?
And what I plan to do will warrant my death, just as they—the mafia—warranted their own death the day they walked into my parents’ shop and murdered them.
Shaking my head, I look around, the music’s so loud no one hears or pays me any attention as I start up the steps. When I reach the top, I pause at the first door I touch. My heart rate picks up and is now beating out of my chest. If they’re behind door number one, I’m not sure what I’ll say.
Fuck it! Pushing it open, I find a man fucking two females. He looks back at me and smiles. Quickly, I shut the door.
Walking further down the immaculate hallway, the music starts to slowly fade as I arrive at the second door. When I push on it, I find a man laid back in a chair, a phone in one hand, and his other on his cock. He pumps it up and down rigorously, and I hear the groan of a woman on the other end of the line—he obviously has it on speaker—then his eyes find mine and he stops, and when he does, surprise and something else is written on his face. “Shut the door,” he grits out. His cock’s still out and hard, while he watches me with intent. I go to step out when his hand wraps back around his cock, and I see the distinctive mark on his hand. I step in shutting the door behind me. “You don’t know what you’ve walked into.” The way he says it, it’s as if he’s warning me. He probably is. But no one has warned him, and I won’t give him that co
urtesy either. “Why don’t you grab a drink and come over here and sit on me.” He slides his hand up his cock again. Slow rhythmic strokes. The red ink skull shining like a beacon at me. It’s teasing me.
Holding onto my bag, I open his small fridge with shaky hands and take for two beers, popping the tops. Keeping my back to him, stealthily I reach inside my bag and pull out a small baggie and drop some of the contents into his bottle. I walk over and hand it to him. He smiles up at me, his teeth are yellow, obviously from smoking, and he’s probably the least attractive of the boys I’ve met so far.
“What’s your name, hot stuff?” I ask. I might as well know the name of the man I intend to kill. He takes a sip of the drink with his cock still out. There’s no shame in this man, whatsoever, all he cares about is getting off.
“Mack. Now, how about you take them clothes off, and let me see what I’m working with. Or I can do it, with force. It’s your choice, girlie.”
Well, fuck me, he’s one of those. I’ve met many men like him in my job. Men who like to control the woman, not just sexually but emotionally as well. Pity for him, I won’t play his silly games.
“Let’s drink first. Then we can play.”
The ass throws the contents down his throat, and then chucks the glass bottle behind me. It smashes on the wall and shatters, some of the remaining liquid running down the wall as the glass tinkles onto the carpet. If I stepped back right now, the glass will crunch under the tips of my heels.
“Bitch… strip. Now.”
I do as he says, needing to occupy him for just a little longer. He reaches for me when my tits are free and his mouth slides over one of my nipples, he bites and I clench my teeth together to stop myself from screaming. “You like it.” It’s not a question, it’s his fact. He pushes a hand up my skirt, slips a finger in and pushes hard. I let him play with me, let his filthy hands which smell of cigarettes and cum roam my body. It’s cringe-worthy, but my mind is only registering one result—the end of him.
“Why won’t you let me play?”