Bare

“Gentlemen….Bella Rose!” The announcer spoke upon the speaker system that stretched the entire duration of the club as the curtain rose and showed the silhouette of a beautiful young woman. This woman held herself with grace and poise of a movie star from the golden era of Hollywood, but wore an attire that would make even Jessica Rabbit blush. Leaving little to nothing to the imagination, a spotlight fell upon her body as the crowd erupted in approval, leaving her to fulfill the fantasies they had made of her by paying twenty dollars a head at the door.  The first notes of “Strip That Down” From Liam Payne and Quavo began to pump through the club as her hips swayed along with the rhythm. A beautiful lace lingerie set that was comprised of a thong and brassiere both seemingly made perfectly for her body kept her modest while every ounce of uncertainty fell to her feet. Although she was rather timid off the stage, when she was beneath the bright lights and the object of her client’s affections, she became confident, strong...a Goddess. Her long dark auburn hair caught fell down her back as she held upon the pole, showing how limber she had been while her hair then slid further and further down, until her back became one with the floor. The sight of dollar bills, ranging from singles to twenties began to fly around her as she then rose up once more, treating the pole as if it had been a dance partner. While the song grew to its chorus, she began to move her fingers to the clasp of her bra. Turning so her back faced those who came to see her, she teased them with having removed it before the lights cut out. The groaning of patrons wailed throughout the space before she was then spotted near the bar, pasties having been present to cover her n*****s, red beads of s crimson bedazzle having kept her covered. She made her way through the crowd, focusing upon those dressed in expensive suits or those who arrived as the form of a bachelor or birthday party. She knew they tipped better and so she focused upon them.  When channeling the persona of Bella Rose, she was able to slide and grind without the deterrents of guilt and morale. She felt powerful as they were unable to touch her. Instead, they were forced to be drawn in by the scent of cocoa butter and vanilla, only for her to then show her attention to another patron. Those brought together by an event would have her spending less that ten seconds with each of them, allowing them a taste of what was unattainable before then moving to another person within the group. She continued this until going through the entire group, and then focusing upon single men or ones who sat alone. Motioning through the club to reach them, her focus set on one man in specific who had been there all night, ordering top shelf alcohol. Knowing he bore a thick wallet, she gave special attention to him, even grinding towards his lap, rubbing up against him until his hands gently touched her skin. Gently taking his hands from her, he went to take hold of her again before two large burly men standing proud with shirts marked security prepared to restrain him. Sensing this, he allowed for her to continue, having handed a single one hundred dollar bill into her hand before leaving the club from embarrassment.  She then led her way back up on stage as the song finished and allowed for her to receive the applause that was due. Her feet stood aching in the five inch platforms she had been required to wear in her employment contract, as she basked in the sound of those who found her alluring. Of course there had been those sexist and crude comments to her and others screaming for an encore before she moved backstage while allowing the other girls to have their moment in the literal spotlight.  While hearing the beat of another dancer's introduction song, she took place in front of the mirror designated for her, marked by her name written in lipstick in the far right corner. Her makeup case, having sat on the surface of her vanity, had been left open from her last minute touches that she then used once more to not appear shiny from sweat. Applying a final layer of lipstick upon her full lips, she looked to her reflection and to the woman looking back at her. She held a physical similarity to Snow White, featured with light skin and dark hair that made her appear like a porcelain doll. A rather busty woman, she knew how to work every inch of her full figure before a crowd, allowing her long locks to sway behind her and all eyes to become glued onto her. However, the confidence she had when on stage faded and exchanged for guilt and shame. She wasn't innocent by any means, but having put herself out on a s****l type of menu had led for her to become melancholy.  "There is my s*x kitten…" A male voice spoke, making her trade in her somber expression for one of contentment as she was expected to be behaved and pleasant upon any interaction with staff for patrons. The disembodied voice had been connected to her boss, a mysterious figure who held strong ties to New York, having even spoken with an accent in nearly every word he had uttered. Physically, he was a near dead ringer for Josh Brolin, only having been present without muscle tone and eyes a bit more narrow and lifeless. "Its payday!" He spoke upon bringing out a A6 size envelope before setting it upon the surface of the desk before her. She knew the contents consisted of her weekly paycheck, her cut of the tips, and a little something extra to keep her on her game.  She never thought she would be the type of girl to be stupid enough to give into the peer pressure around her. But to make it in this city, to remain off the streets, she fell into a crowd who made payments in nose candy and s****l favors. With her own self esteem having been charred throughout the years, she began to accept that all men wanted her body and all women wanted her clothes. But perhaps the most unfortunate detail was that she was her class valedictorian, and now she was a stripper in California.  If not for her obsession with the coke she was given along with her paycheck, she could have turned her life around. But now she had been in too deep. Without the feeling of excitement and excessive production she received from her drug of choice, she began to endure the withdrawals. Having been a connoisseur of the cocaine, she had built up a tolerance to an extent. However, as this envelope had been given to her, it would somehow seal her fate and change the path of her life, forever.  She moved into the bubblegum pink colored bathroom and into a stall where she used a single bill that had been beneath the band of her thong and rolled it up in a perfect tube. Setting it just before her nose, she took in one deep inhale, feeling a slight burn, before a slight numb then take effect upon her face. Pinching her nostrils together to wipe away the excess, she then used her pinky, having ducked upon in momentarily, before then setting it upon her teeth. Taking in the blissful absence of pain and guilt that being high allowed her, she fell into a near catatonic state. Finding the voices of those she called her peers speak of her with negative phrasing, gossiping about how she was too fat to fit into her clothes, wearing makeup to cover up for the fact she wasn't attractive, and how she was overall annoying- she took another hit of the coke.  Once again, enjoying the near anesthetic properties, she could feel herself begin to fade away from the worry and pain she felt in her life. However, as the feeling extended to a dangerous high, her body began to tremble and then lock up, freezing her in place. Alone in the bathroom, her legs fell weak beneath her weight-causing her to collapse upon the frigid tile. The sound of the club music had overruled any sound of her having been in distress. Everything around her became black, yet she was able to hear the sound of someone coming to her rescue-a stranger who tore her from the clutches of death and brought her back to the life of a living...all within a nick of time.  When her eyes opened, they had difficulty adjusting to the light around her as she looked to find her location to be one of unfamiliar existence. Believing to be at a hospital due to the IV set in her arm, she quickly analyzed the scene further to be in either a house or an apartment. The room itself had consisted of great modern decoration with what is considered art posted upon the walls behind silver frames with plaques of the name of the piece along with the name of the artist. She peered further, looking outside at the window beside her bed where the curtains were ajar just enough to where she could make out the fact it had been daylight. Her head began to pound while trying to piece together the last thing she could remember. She recalled working and then waking up here, everything in between and even specific details having been hazy. But one thing was for certain, she was in a location foreign to her, one she knew she had never been in before. As her fingers went to pull the needle from her arm, the door to the room she had been located it was sold open. A woman dressed in a slimming outfit with a knitted jacket entered the room. Upon seeing that she was awake, she moved to her, bringing her wrist to view and checking her vitals.  "Who are you?" She asked, seeing the woman to make eye contact with her, but remaining silent. Instead, she moved to the laptop beside the impromptu patient and hit a set of buttons before then changing out the saline solution and leaving her alone once again.  "Excuse me?!" She called to the woman who looked at her, seemingly shy, before sliding two tablets on the bedside table beside her and leaving the room. "Hey!" She called out after her before the door came open once again.  She was taken aback by the figure who now occupied the once empty section of the room. Her gaze cataloged him-taking note of every fiber of his clothing and pore upon his face-finding him impossibly handsome. She was never one to really fall speechless due to her profession-but when it came to him, although she didn’t know his name-she was immediately smitten. However, the arrogance he held behind his smile was enough to make her understand that she would not allow him to know what she thought of him-even though her eyes betrayed her as she assessed his entire figure. He stood a few inches over six feet, shielding a pair of ghostly blue eyes over a fringe haircut that set just at his eyes. Running his fingers through it, she came to notice the lack of ring or tan mark from one having ever been present until his voice made her look to him with surprise.  He was British-adding to her assumption of him held himself in a confident standard that came across as cocky. However, she couldn’t deny it to herself at how fetching he was to the eye as he dressed as if he came out of some fancy catalog and was fit enough to take anything that would come his way. In summary, he was a tall drink of water and she was severely dehydrated.  “She isn’t going to come back.” He spoke, sounding as if he was reading lines from a Shakespearean play. However entranced she had been by his accent, she didn’t allow herself to give away this as she simply looked to him with worry-confusion, or even distrust. “She’s mute.” He continued, moving towards her while moving his view to the computer that spoke of her vitals. “You’ll live.” He spoke with a cheeky smirk that showed a slight mid-September shadow hiding slight dimples at the very centers of his cheeks.  “Who are you?” She asked, her voice raspy from being unconscious for a long period of time without remaining hydrated.  “Deacon Valadian-” Her brows shot up at his name as it seemed as though ‘duke’, ‘lord’ or ‘prince’ should have come before his name. Part of her thought of even curtseying to him, but she forbade herself to do so as she wouldn’t bow down for any man unless she was getting paid to do so. As she went to speak, he stopped her, having pulled her ID from his back pocket, reading out her information with his dreamy yet slightly irritating accent.  “Gwendolyn McKay...twenty years of age...living in San Francisco-” “You went through my purse?!” She scolded, going to retrieve her licence from him before finding the tubes and cords that kept the state of her well being in check, had forced her to remain in the bed.  “You were choking on your own sick, I had to find out if I could call anyone for you…” he spoke, suddenly appearing kind-although his eyes seemed to hide something mischievous in this moment. Fear then rushed over her as she noted how the clothes she had been wearing were not the ones she recalled being present in with the last coherent memories. A load of potential incidents came to her mind such as him having forced himself on her as she slept. This worry bled over into her expression as his eyes narrowed in confusion.  "Did you...undress me?" He paused for a moment, prepared to make some snarky remark before noting how she had been dead serious.  "If I wanted to undress you, I wouldn't have to make you unconscious." His arrogance struck her last nerve as she jumped up towards him, preparing to hit him if things were to get to that apex. "You think because you brought me here with some deaf nurse that it will make me drop my panties for you-" he chuckled, only making her more and more angry. Her usual flawlessly porcelain cheeks grew red with her adrenaline having soared through her veins.  "Sorry...you're not my type." His words stung a bit to her although she was more angered at him then aroused, it didn't make hearing such facts easier to bear.  "Then let me go." "You are free to go after you take those tablets…" he motioned to the aspirin sitting on the bedside table, left by the nurse before she had made her way from the room.  "Why? So you can drug me?"  "You pump enough of that junk in your body yourself…" he spoke, losing interest in fighting with this banter any further before moving to the tablets himself. "Believe me, I have a million better things to be doing than playing babysitter to an addict-" "I'm not-" she grew immediately defensive, unaware if she had fallen into a category where rehab would be in her future. Irregardless, her having reacted in such a way had only fueled him to get into her face.  "I have heard every excuse in the book. I know that you think you hide it well or that you can handle whatever high you get...but you also know the effects...you can feel them." "What are you? A recovered addict or something?" "Or something…" he muttered beneath his breath before handing her the tablets. Within seconds, she had consumed them before feeling the edge of her headache having been taken off. She let out a sigh of relief before the nurse made her way back inside to relieve Gwen from her medical restraints. "Most people say thank you." He spoke as she crossed the threshold of the room, moving to the hall, and stopping upon his words. "Considering I saved your life and all-" "Technically...she did…" Gwen spoke towards the nurse before Deacon slowly moved towards her. The s****l tension only grew with each step he had taken closer and closer to her. So much so that she had found it difficult to keep up her independent and badass persona. She was like a sheep to her slaughter while looking in his gaze, unable to break away, and being thrust forward to endure whatever her fate would bring.  "She wasn't the one who stuck that IV in you or kept you company as you were overdosing on the floor of the loo. If not for me, they would be stuffing you into a bodybag right now." She narrowed her gaze at him. "Anyone could have done what you did." "Yet, I was the only one who seems to give a s**t about what happened to you." "Why?" Silence suddenly fell between them. It was clear that neither Gwen or Deacon knew exactly what to say next. He knew if he were to speak his reasons then he would coke off creepy, and if she were to speak another word then it would come out angry. Not wanting either outcomes to happen, they had remained silent.  "I did what I did because you were going to die. Nobody else was rushing towards you. And damn, I'm starting to regret it." He spoke, pushing past her in the doorway before making it to the labyrinth of hallways that was his apartment. She knew without much of an analysis that he had money, and lots of it. Whenever she was present with money, she had instantly put on a charm as a sort of hypnotic side effect.  "You won't find it." He commented while watching her go through her purse that was left on the counter as he had carried her into the apartment the night before.  "You took my stuff, too?!" He paused for a moment before c*****g his jaw. "You know what? I am not going to let you walk out that door only to come save your ass again. You aren't leaving until you are clean." "You can't keep me prisoner here…" she spoke as his expression seemed to read "try me". Due to this, she ran quickly towards the door to make her escape before finding it to close and her body was pinned up against it.  "Go ahead. Nobody will hear you...I have this entire top floor and the only other person here is Samara and she can't hear you." "This is illegal." She reminded him as he seemed unthreatened by her words.  "So was the majority of things you did last night." He shot back as she glared at him. "Get comfortable… you will be here a while." She was trapped. Although he was handsome, rich, and seemingly single-everything about him since he opened his mouth had been like nails on the chalkboard to her. And now, she would be forced to detox in his presence. She had wished in this moment that he would have left her to die...as she favored that fate over whatever he had in mind.