by D. V. EEDEN
I have a few hours to kill before I need to leave, so I figure strolling down to the library won’t hurt. I need to fit in as much studying as possible while here. My grades really need to improve or else my father will kill me.
My tutoring sessions begin on Monday with Hugo and I must admit, it’s not an occasion I’m looking forward to. He scares the living shit out of me and seems as though he would be cold and impatient. I’ll be surprised if I last more than a week before he gives up on me.
The library is cold and eerie, located in the old construction of the castle which has been newly renovated, but kept the design of medieval times. The flame style wall mounted sconces would have been candles for light back then, and the chandeliers hang high along the wooden beams. The stained pictorial glass windows are so high you would need a ladder to reach them. The sun beams through in bright colours, shining a rainbow down on the cold concrete floor.
Searching for the correct books in Egyptian History leads me all the way to the back of the library. I have no idea how they sorted this out, but it seems they have books for bloody everything possible. A faint sound startles me from my search, and I halt my steps. Moaning sounds echo in the air around me and I am unsure if it’s a moan of pleasure or if someone’s hurt. I make my way around the maze of books shelves, following the sounds, the moaning getting louder and louder. That’s when I find the culprits.
I gasp, automatically stopping in my tracks, and I accidently drop a book from my hands to the floor. It’s Charles and some girl who I haven’t seen before. It appears my presence hasn’t interrupted them, and I immediately scurry off to the other side of the bookshelf. The image of Charles fucking a girl whose legs were wrapped around his waist, her skirt scrunched up on her hips and her knickers left on the ground has been imprinted onto my brain.
My heart is beating so fast in my throat it takes me a while to compose myself. I grab my book and hurry back to my table, trying to pretend I didn’t just witness that. I scrub my hands over my face and steady my breathing to calm down, but before I realize, a presence is standing over me. All of a sudden my heartbeat is back to running a marathon. I open my eyes to find Charles looming over the table on the opposite side with a sadistic grin spread on his beautiful face.
The sunlight shines on his golden locks from behind, making him look angelic, but I know he is far from it. They say that the devil comes to you in a form of unimaginable beauty, with his charming smile and alluring personality, and that is exactly how he draws in his prey. He wants you to submit to him and succumb to all of your desires.
“Did you enjoy the little show, Africa?” he purrs, his voice so seductive he practically talks sex. He stares at me from his golden-brown eyes and the grin just keeps on getting wider. His hair falls onto his face, just about covering his eyes as he leans his forearms on the spine of the chair opposite me.
I take a deep breath, “Um, I hardly saw anything,”
I have no clue what to say to him. My brain has gone dead. In a weird way, I am jealous of the girl and I have no clue why. I am as inexperienced as they come for an eighteen-year-old. Yes, I am still a virgin and the furthest I have gone with a guy is kissing and that was years ago.
“Oh really, well it didn’t seem that way,” he chuckles with a mischievous tone. “Now you know my little spot,” he winks at me. I try and swallow my gasp, but I end up holding my breath for longer than normal.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Well, I won’t tell anyone about your little secret spot.” I roll my eyes at him, hoping it will send the message of- I don’t care, go away.
He chuckles under his breath and stands up straight to shrug on his blazer. He buttons up the last two gold buttons and wipes it down, as if to take out any creases that are visible. Surprisingly, there isn’t.
“I wouldn’t recommend using it either,” he says and now I’m confused, which he can read from my scrunched-up face “For your business,” he continues on and that’s when I realize what he means. How do people still believe this shitty fucking rumor?
“How about you fuck right off and let me get back to studying,” I snap at him. He starts walking backwards, holding out his hands in surrender and an apologetic expression etched into his face, but I know full well that it is far from what he intends. God if he is anything like Blake, I will be reminded of this later.
Since arriving at my dorm room, I have showered and blow dried my hair but now I’m staring into my closet, trying to pick out an outfit. I stand inside the closet in my underwear, tapping a finger on my bottom lip and staring at all the clothes in front of me. Maybe one will just pop out at me and that’s what I’ll wear. I decide after ten minutes to put on some jeans, a black vest top and a black cardigan matching it with some black pumps. Hopefully, this will be suitable, if not Samantha could always tell me for future reference.
I order myself an Uber from the app and I have about twenty minutes until it arrives, so I put on some mascara to make my blue eyes pop and a nude pink colored lipstick. I don’t want to overdo it. I pick up my small shoulder bag where I put my lipstick and purse and hang it over my shoulder. Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I am pretty pleased with the outcome. I quickly tie my hair up in a ponytail as I don’t want my long hair getting in the way this evening.
The Uber arrives dead on time, and I check my surroundings to make sure no one else is around. Once the coast is clear I quickly jump in the back seat and greet the driver. The drive is not far, but I have some time to contain my nerves. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I have worked as a waitress and bar staff before, so it’s nothing new, but I think it’s because I know I’m also doing it to find out why the tunnels lead there.
I should probably just have been clever and actually asked someone before I put myself in what could be a potentially dangerous situation, but hey. You only live once. We arrive at the club and I’m grateful I that I’m still early by ten minutes. This will give me some time to finally settle my nerves, I hope.
The parking lot isn’t busy with cars, so I am guessing it’s still too early for everyone to come out. I walk on the gravel ground and head through the old wooden door and into the hallway. I catch a glimpse of Samantha sitting at the bar, writing on some notepad, and as if she can feel my presence, she turns her head around with a wide smile and waves me over.
“Hey chick, how are you today?” she asks with a gentle smile. I don’t know the lady, but she seems so warm and welcoming I feel instantly safe around her which is good.
“I am very well, thank you for asking,” I respond with a shaky breath and Samantha picks up on my nerves.
“Hey, don’t be nervous. Tonight, is an easy night.” She slides off the bar stool and guides me to a little closet where a locker is situated to place my bag. She then shows me behind the bar and all the drinks that they serve from the menu, which thankfully I have knowledge in. That seems to put me in her good books.
“So tonight, the shift will end at twelve if that is okay with you?” she asks, and I nod in response. After half an hour, the club has attracted some customers who all end up sitting at the bar and ordering drinks. Luckily, timing is on my side and it isn’t so busy that I am unable to provide a bad service.
The building seems to heat up quickly and I take off my cardigan, so I’m left in just my vest top, showing some cleavage — which attracts a few comments from the older men, but due to my experience of this before it doesn’t faze me. Samantha observes me from the sidelines and gives me a thumbs up occasionally before she joins me at the bar taking orders. The club seems to be piling up with more customers tonight and Samantha apologizes for it being so busy. But in my opinion, it makes the time go fast when you’re busy and I’m having a lot of fun. This makes me feel normal again, like I don’t attend some posh, expensive academy just around the corner.
Another lady called Lily starts her shift at ten in the evening, and she seems generous enough. We don’t have time to converse as
she’s straight to work. Samantha pulls me to the side in a quiet room to have a little chat and now the nerves are creeping up my spine again. Fingers crossed.
“I am so impressed with you tonight,” she gushes. “I will definitely be hiring you after this evening,” she continues and all I do is smile at this lovely lady.
“So, here at Club Envy we do host private events, which you will be invited to work if we need staff,” she starts, explaining what I should expect so I nod along, taking it all in. “We also have our own dancing girls that do performances on some nights.” My eyes go wide as she instantly catches my attention. I smile at Samantha, intrigued.
“Dancing girls?” I ask, raising my eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, we have erotic dancers, burlesque and occasionally pole dancers,” she explains to me. She pauses for a second before continuing. “But not stripping. It’s more of a classy establishment,” she assures.
I would love to see that. It’s not a form of dancing I have performed myself, but I agree that dancing is an art form, even if it is erotic dancing or even pole dancing. That takes some strength. I mean the most erotic dancer that comes to my head is Dita von Tease, and her routine of dancing in a giant martini glass was epic.
“If you’re free next Saturday for a shift, we have the dancers on then.”
I can’t wait for next Saturday already. We swap numbers and Samantha adds me to the work group chat and I already feel part of the team. This is probably the best thing that’s happened to me since being in England and all it took was a little job at a club.
Clearly, I am easily pleased. My grin grows wider at the thought. The butterflies flutter in my stomach, excited for next Saturday already.
Once my shift has ended, I take an Uber back to the academy and before I know it, I am tucked up in bed by one in the morning, looking forward to a lay in. I put my earphones in and listen to some music to help me fall asleep, but the image of Charles fucking that girl against a bookshelf is still fresh in my mind. The heat rises in my stomach as my imagination runs wild, replacing that girl with me in his arms. My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms holding onto his broad shoulders and breathing in every single kiss he gives. My breath quickens, my heart pumping against my tight chest. Why am I imagining something that could never happen to me? I would never be able to have someone like him.
The Queen’s naughty nephew. Seeing as I am all alone in the dorm, I figure I’ll explore myself a little and imagine Charles’ manly, manicured hands all over my body.
Wow, I have lost the plot.
Chapter Eight
Monday has rolled around quickly, and the academy is swarmed with students again. Blaire arrived early this morning, waking me up from yet another dirty dream of the cheeky, mischievous Duke.
‘’How was the Gala?’’ I ask Blaire as I sit up, covering my chest with my duvet.
‘’It was really boring if I am honest, but I did meet a guy and we swapped numbers’’ she gives me a cheeky wink whilst putting her uniform on. ‘’But that is all I am saying for now. I don’t want to jinx it.’’
After showering and getting dressed in my uniform, we make our way down to the dining hall, my belly rumbling in starvation. I ended up missing lunch and dinner yesterday, since I spent my whole afternoon in the dance studio coming up with different routines.
We take a seat at our normal table and Maisie is already there waiting for us, having kindly ordered our breakfast for us. I need coffee and a glass of orange juice. Glancing up, the Royals are already seated at their throne and I instantly recognize the blonde girl that was with Charles in the library, sitting next to Ruby. Heat flushes my cheeks in discomfiture, and that’s when I realize I’m staring, because Blake has a grin plastered on his face. He stands up and struts toward our table.
“Oh god, what do you want Blake?” Blaire huffs, looking up from her phone screen while I forget how to breathe again. Goddamn it, why did he have to come over here after he caught me staring?
“You really are such a lovely sister, aren’t you?” he drawls, pulling a chair out opposite me, the legs scraping against the tiled floor as takes a seat, his dark gaze set upon me.
“What do you want?”
“I was just coming to ask Africa if she enjoyed the little show at the weekend, that’s all,” he chuckles under his breath. “I heard you got all pervy, watching Charles fucking Constance in the library,” he declares, louder than normal. The whole dining hall falls silent and all the students watch us with anticipation.
“That is a load of bullshit. I hardly saw anything. But if he didn’t want to get caught, he should find a better…” I pause trying to find the correct word, “spot.”
Blake’s expression falls from roguish to malice in a split second.
His mouth tightens in a thin line and his nostrils flare. “Are you calling me a liar, Africa?” he sneers, and I shrug my shoulders as I lean back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest and lifting my chin up in defiance.
I’m done with this prick thinking he can intimidate me.
A few students gasp, waiting in anticipation for Blake’s reaction to my statement. Finally, I stand up for myself against this prick and he doesn’t like it. Well tough shit. You can’t always expect everyone to bow down to your feet.
Blake stands up so abruptly, the chair falls back hitting the ground behind him and Blaire copies his movement. ‘’Blake, fuck off right now,” she shouts at him in front of everyone, their faces falling in disbelief. She’s never stood up to him in front of an audience, and I can’t help but feel pride.
Blake ignores Blaire, his nostrils flaring as he points an index finger in my direction. He then leans forward on the table, one hand clawing the surface. “You will regret this Africa. Don’t think Blaire will always stand up for you,” he speaks through clenched teeth. “You’ll wish you never came here. I promise you,” he clenches his jaw, the veins in his neck straining against the skin. He turns on his heel to walk away, smacking down a tray of food a poor guy was holding in his hands. The food flies everywhere, landing on the floor and on a few students. The other Royals follow Blake out of the dining hall and finally noise from conversation breaks the silence.
My body is trembling, shaking with anger over how this fucking prick treats people. It’s always directed towards me, not anyone else and I don’t know why I am suddenly a target. Just because I am new? How the fuck does that work?
“Ade,” Blaire whispers - she had given me the nickname Ade, which is so much better than saying my whole name — why didn’t I think of it before? - “Do not let that low life get to you. He won’t do anything. I’ll make sure of it.”
Morning classes are dreadful. No one’s spoken to me since this morning, aside from Ruby tormenting me in classes, calling me a slut and a working girl.
“I bet you wish it was you don’t you, Charles fucking you against the bookshelf,” she purrs with a mocking smirk. “But why pay for an AIDS ridden slut when he can get it for free,” she cackles and the whole class burst into laughter.
My breath hitches in my throat, as the bile starts to rise but I endure all the comments and insults until the bell rings to signal that it’s finally lunch time.
I pretty much sprint to the dance studio and strip out of my uniform, until I’m left in my leotard. Then I put on ‘Messed up’ by Fredrik Ferrier, and I just dance. I let out all my anger into every move I make. Pushing myself to the point where my body wants me to stop, but I carry on. I punish myself to the point of exhaustion and my feet ache from the constant contact with the hard floor. Sweat pours from my forehead, my breath trying to catch up with me. Suddenly I feel faint from the lack of food and all the exercise, and I end up falling to the floor. I roll until I’m lying on my back, waiting until my heartbeat calms down to a normal rate.
“Jesus woman, you’re going to pass out one of these days if you carry on like this,” a voice speaks out from the other end of the studio.
Glancing th
rough a mirror, I recognize Miles and pull up my arm to give a small wave. I can’t even form words right now, so that’s all I’ve got.
“You okay? I heard what happened,” he asks with sincerity in his voice.
I roll myself over so that I’m lying on my stomach on the cold hardwood floor, cooling down my red-hot skin. “I will be,” I reply.
He nods in acknowledgement and doesn’t say another word. It’s like he knows I need this time out to just dance. Maybe he does sometimes too.
Miles saunters over to me, stretching out his arm, lending me a hand to stand up. In his right hand, he has a remote and instantly presses play. A rock song booms from the surround system, ‘Bad Girlfriend’ by Theory of a Deadman. Wow, I did not see this coming.
“Come on, let’s get some of that anger out of you,” he smiles at me and starts to twirl me out of his arms. I haven’t really danced like this to rock music before, but he’s making it fun. I haven’t laughed this much in a while, and it feels refreshing. We playfully do the air guitar, pretending we’re rock stars, head banging, and adding some weird tango to the mix. This is interesting and a change of dynamic. I feel like a little schoolgirl, acting foolish for the sense of fun. The tightness in my chest fades away, the light flutters easing. I can still feel the adrenaline, but I finally feel comfortable with someone other than Blaire and Maisie.
“See, I am putting a smile on your face,” he calls out through the loud music. We enjoy the whole song and I think we have danced around every inch of the floor space. We even end up on the balance beams at the side and jump off them, pretending we’re jumping into a crowd and everyone loves us.
He grabs me by the waist, leaning my head back to end the song and we’re both hysterically laughing. “Wow that was amazing!” I shout, my ears ringing from the loud music.