by Layla Arts
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Copyright © 2018 by Layla Arts
All Rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of BLVNP Inc. For more information contact BLVNP Inc.The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Lush
Seduction
By: Layla Arts
ISBN: 978-1-68030-959-1
© Layla Arts 2018
Table of Contents
01
02
03
04
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06
07
08
09
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
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19
20
21
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01
Vicky West
I had come to an agreement with my boss about leaving my shift at the café early today. I was determined to be punctual for the audition, so that meant coming to work earlier in order to make up for the time I would be missing at the end.
Veronica – my overexcited employer – had agreed, with joy, that I would come in four hours before the initial start of my shift, as well as I would clean the whole café if she were going let me leave at 11 AM. She was very accommodating.
“Bye Veronica! Have a nice day!” I yelled to the old lady behind the cash register.
“Show them some ass, Vicky!” she jeered. I thanked her, and I left the café happily.
I stepped over the crap that laid in the hallway of my apartment, mulling over my recent move to Los Angeles. I came to the city of angels approximately five weeks ago, moving solely for the opportunity to audition for the Empire a few blocks away. I have been counting down the weeks, days, and quite possibly the hours until the audition. I loved everything about the Empire. I loved the way the women could dance, sing, and entertain the people – enticing them to return. I loved to give a show, so I was encouraged to do this.
My parents lived a couple of hours away, and we had minimal contact. I was so busy getting settled after the move and everything, that I had little time to see them, and I could hardly plan a trip back to my hometown.
I focused on getting ready for my audition, putting my hair into a ponytail and checking myself in the mirror that hung in my small hallway. This could easily work out. I never doubted my ability to do well in an audition, since I was determined to make it. I wasn't conceited, no, I had just trained for years, and now I could finally show people how much I wanted this.
“Keys, keys, keys!” I hissed under my breath as I threw magazines off the kitchen counter. It was a total mess, but I never thought much of it since I was living on my own. My mom would have made sure this mess was cleaned up, but I wasn't too worried about tidying my flat. This job would be my first priority.
When I had finally found my keys, I rushed to my Mini-Cooper that sat idle in the garage. This apartment came with a garage of my own. Of course, I appreciated that no one was able to come close to my beloved car. I turned the GPS on to make sure I wouldn't get lost in the jammed and busy streets of LA, and miss the most defining moment of my career and life.
I plugged my iPhone into the stereo, convincing myself that a bit of lip-synching on my way to the audition, wouldn’t hurt. Wannabe by the Spice Girls was making its way through my ears.
The location wasn't any different than I thought it would be, with beautiful women lined up out the door and down the sidewalk, waiting for their audition. They were all so pretty; long legs, a bit tanned, and beautiful faces. They just had the whole package, and I suddenly felt a lot more self-conscious than I did on the way here.
For fuck’s sake, Vicky. You have always wanted this, just focus!
I could do this. I was made for this. All I needed to do was accept that and deliver an excellent performance. I had put all my time and effort in this. I made my way to the back of the line, impatiently waiting for my turn. After a while, the girl who stood in front of me, turned around to face me. Her hair had an auburn color, and she had freckles on her face. She was stunning, and I felt my
self-esteem drop significantly rapid when I looked at her.
“Hi,” she spoke. “I'm Red.”
“Vicky,” I countered and shook her hand politely. “It's quite crowded,” I stated.
I never had been comfortable in starting conversations. I could easily keep them going after a while – if you were interesting – but starting them wasn't a talent of mine. I usually would start with ‘The weather is quite outstanding, isn't it?’ Or something else that was completely obvious.
Even now, I was not being any more original than usual. Of course, I was lame and didn't add any depth into the conversation. I should really start getting to know the people I'm talking to; that’d be a good start.
“It is.” She agreed with me. “Even if the crowd was small, Hadrian Smith is quite selective with his dancers; only the absolute best will make it."
“Who's Hadrian Smith?” I asked her, with a look of what I could only describe as sheer confusion written all over my face.
A soft laugh escaped from her lips, but then she noticed I was absolutely serious.
“He is the boss of the Empire,” she mentioned. “I'll tell you more since you're obviously out of the loop. He is one of the most wanted men in the whole city. His appearance is unbelievable. If he was down for a fuck, anyone would do him without hesitation.” It scared me that this girl, Red, was so upfront and honest, but that made me realize she wasn't going to lie to my face for my benefit. Her honesty made me like her instantly, and I immediately hoped that she was always as genuine as she was at that moment.
“Is he nice?” I questioned.
“Nice?” She huffed in disbelief before she chuckled and looked at the ground. “Everything beautiful comes with a price tag. His price just so happens to be the most berating attitude in the entire world. It makes me wonder who’d want to stay an eternity with that filthy man.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, rather overwhelmed.
“But whatever, it pays well.” She shrugged.
So this Hadrian Smith was the owner of the club? Red definitely had the guts to put up with this seemingly cocky asshole, but did I? Probably not, and I definitely wasn't up for a discussion with him either. I wondered if he’d actually show up, or if he would just send a bunch of people to judge us. I bit my nails anxiously, as I thought of all the ways Hadrian Smith’s degrading attitude could ruin this for me.
“Nervous?” I turned around and saw Red looking at me.
“Quite,” I replied honestly.
“Because of what I told you about Hadrian?” I nodded in response. “Don't be. If he is actually here, you just need to have a compliant attitude. This man only wants good looking and talented women. If you have the confidence to show up here, you have those two things. I can tell by looking at you that you have passed in the good looks department already.” She soothes my hyperactive conscience.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No worries, Vicky.”
The line got smaller as we came closer to the check-in point. Red had her earplugs in and listened to the songs on her iPhone. I, on the other hand, was sipping on my water to kill some time. I tried to focus on anything other than the dance routine I had planned.
When I came to the small desk that stood in front of the Empire, a woman greeted me. She had a pair of thick black glasses on - similar to the ones I owned. Her hair was almost white and tied up neatly in a bun. She looked up at me, eyelashes long because of coats of mascara.
“Name?” she asked me and adjusted her glasses
“Vicky West,” I said, my voice sounding weaker than I had anticipated, making me feel embarrassed for my lack of confidence in speech.
“Number 70, group 4,” she said, and with that, I was dismissed.
No good luck? All right then. I huffed. I walked to the entrance of the club and stepped inside. I was escorted by a bodyguard, who asked politely for my group number, and proceeded to lead me to my group. I thanked him before focusing on the people who were standing there, stretching or adding another layer of makeup to the kilos they had already put on their faces. I dropped my bag in the corner of the room, away from the others. I didn't want to be with so many people at this moment.
I stripped out of the pair of yoga pants I was wearing and placed the sticker with the number 70 on my hip. I put my headphones on and stepped in front of the mirror. I started doing my routine. I didn't pay attention to my surroundings; I didn't want to know whether people were looking at me. I needed to focus like I had told myself earlier.
I was quite bummed out that Red wasn't in my group, but luckily that meant I could see her dance, if I was even allowed to do that? This entire audition day had come without a description. I only knew that at one point, I needed to be on stage, proving everyone that I belonged here.
“Vicky West, the stage is ready!” A woman yelled.
I took a deep breath, put my stuff away, and jogged to the side of the stage where the woman stood, waiting. She had placed a microphone against my cheek so that I was able to sing. I got a pat on the back from her before she signaled me to go on. I was met with sharp spotlights - my eyes needed to adjust before I could see clearly. I saw another microphone standing in front of me, and I walked toward it. You could hear my high heels clicking against the floor as I did so. I blinked a few times before I focused on the three people sitting at the table. No one resembled the Hadrian Smith I had heard of.
“You're here to audition for a spot in the group of the Empire dancers?” The older man asked me.
“I am, sir,” I told him kindly.
“Show us what you’ve got,” he informed me.
I stepped back, while someone removed the standing microphone off stage.
I inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing.
The spotlights were dimmed, and now is my time to shine. It was all or nothing, and I was aware that I needed to show them the best I had to offer. I heard the first notes from the song resonate through the stereo, and I began the routine I had planned to use just for this moment. I swayed my hips frequently as I let my hands linger over my body. I started singing, making sure to nail the notes I needed to hit. I wanted to make them enjoy their time here, make them realize that I was worth the opportunity I was given. Even though they had already had plenty of girls dancing for them, I needed to leave an impression.
I felt euphoria streaming through my body from the moment I started to dance. I loved this with mad passion. I had to get through the audition and make it to this massive stage. I couldn’t imagine moving back to Texas and being a disappointment. I couldn’t head back, since Texas wasn’t the place where I should live my entire life. Los Angeles had grabbed my attention since I was young. My cousin and I were always obsessed with dancing and performing to our family. Now, my dreams could be turned into reality.
I spotted a pair of eyes staring at me from a distance. A suit was around his body, growing tight against his muscles as he ran his hand through his hair. I couldn't make out who it was for I had never seen him before, but he stood in the darkness, watching me perform. Something radiated from him, and it was unremarkably captivating. So I stared back into his eyes, challenging him while I danced. It eased the anxiety of standing on stage, being judged, if I made myself believe I was performing for him privately.
I was caught up with dancing for him. Adrenaline was streaming through my body while I swung my hips. I tried to make my gymnastic background obvious in the moves I made. I had been dancing for a bit when I heard the music seize. I stood in my final pose, trying to relax as I inhaled and exhaled, struggling for breath. My chest was palpitating; I was craving for cold air and a drink. I licked my dry lips and walked over to the microphone, ready to hear someone critique my performance.
“You will hear from us.” The old man waved me off, not even looking me in the eye as he dismissed me.
I was confused as my arms dropped and I stepped back. I walked off stage with a gutted feeling. There wasn't even a compliment, not a si
ngle one! Most of the time, you will hear if they wanted you to give it another shot, but there was nothing. Not even a nice goodbye. I guess Red had forgotten to mention that the people who worked around here were absolute assholes as well.
I grabbed my stuff and headed out of the club. I was furious. At least they could try to be kind to the people who made an effort to show up at their damn club. I had never been mistreated at any kind of job interview, or anywhere for that matter. This Hadrian Smith guy didn't want to spend a bit of his precious time to get to know his dancers.
All right.
***
I was seated in my Mini-Cooper while I drove home. The music was uncommonly boisterous compared to the drive toward the Empire. Perchance, I made a mess of the audition? It was possible, but at the same time, I was too stubborn to even accept that possibility. I smashed it.
I simply couldn’t comprehend the idea of not making it; of not making it in this industry. I knew it was hard to reach the top when it came to dancing. I wasn’t selfish nor told everyone that I was the most amazing dancer they would ever meet in their life. I was completely driven, and I didn’t want to do anything else in life other than performing for a glorious audience. And with today’s audition, I was anxious that there could be a minor chance I wouldn’t make it this time.
I showered when I got back home and proceeded to walk around in my fuzzy towel. I slipped on my flip-flops and walked through my apartment. I stepped over some boxes before I reached the refrigerator. I took the milk out and poured some in a glass. The coldness of the drink entered my throat, and I sighed loudly when the glass was empty. There were some leftovers from last night’s dinner as well, which made my stomach grumble. It was the perfect time to heat it and have dinner. After a couple of minutes, I sat on the couch in front of the television.