#not my usual ting so i bedazzled her

[skaterboisims]

🎭

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

           The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

           “I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

           “Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

           “My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

           “Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

           The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

           “Did someone hurt you?”

           Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

           “You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

        Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

        Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

        A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper.  “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

        Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

        The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

        “Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

        “The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

           “Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

           “—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

           “Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

        Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

        “How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

        “Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

        “Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

        Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

        Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

        “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

        “I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

        “Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

        “GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

        “How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

        “Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

        “That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

        “This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

        “Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

        “Gin.” She giggled.

        “Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

        Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

        “Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

        He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

        They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

        Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

        As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

        The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

        Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

        “…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

        “I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

        He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

        “What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

        They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

        The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

        A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

        “Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

        “Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

        “Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

        “Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

        “We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

        “I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

        Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

        A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

        “That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

        “Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

        Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

        “Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

        The twins beheld each other knowingly.

        In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

        “I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

        “Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

        “Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

        “They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

        “Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

        He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

        While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

        “They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @nildespirandum​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @latent-thoughts​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @villainousshakespeare​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @caffiend-queen​ @poetic-fiasco​ @lokimostly​ @dianamolloy​ @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0​ @cateyes315​ @mooncat163​ @nuggsmum​ @myraiswack​​​ @wolfpawn​​ @plastic-heart​​ @confusednerd09​

[blandjanet]

So now I've had time to digest the...experience that was Cats 2019, here are some thoughts.

It's amazing how much of this movie I've forgotten already. Rum Tum Tugger just about sucked Victoria's toes? Disgusting but don't remember it.

To be fair I did spend a lot of time looking anywhere but at the screen.

Jennyanydots and Bustopher Jones are not funny. At all.

Oh, are these cats fat? Why don't you make another joke about it in case someone in the nosebleeds missed it the first 30 times.

The cockroaches. Oh, those fucking cockroaches. And why are the mice children? Who decided that?

Funny how I can watch '98 Jennyanydots take off her "fur coat" and I don't bat an eye but Rebel Wilson does it and I want to die. Maybe because '98 version hadn't bedazzled her fur.

Speaking of, why did Old Deuteronomy have a train on her coat?

Skimbleshanks is the best thing in this movie. Also like Rumpleteazer and Gus but that's mostly because of Ian McKellan's existence.

Memory. Ooooooo boy. Jennifer Hudson certainly delivered on the emotion, but the crying. Every. Single. Time. Very distracting.

The new song. Eh. No strong opinion.

Was Macavity ginger? Thought I saw a reddish tinge but hard to tell since he was usually in shadow and all.

I was going to say thank you to whoever cut the Pekes and the Pollicles number because I was not prepared to see what Rumpus Cat would look like in cgi. But I've just realised, it's naked cat Idris Elba. That's what Rumpus Cat would have looked like.

Some of them wear shoes. Some of them don't. It's very distracting.

Magical Mister Mistoffelees had about 1200% less charm when it's Mistoffelees stumbling his way through it instead of Rum literally singing his praises.

This is one of my favourite numbers and it's so irritating to watch here.

And the return of the mice. Ugh.

Why do all the cats have face blindness when it comes to Macavity? Bustopher seemed to be the only one who recognised him on sight.

Did Mistoffelees bring back the cats still on the barge or did they steer it to shore or what?

Bring back Demeter and Jemima and Jellylorum.

So the Heaviside Layer is now reached by a chandelier tied to a hot air balloon. A crashed chandelier that's in a theatre. Someone was feeling meta.

When Victoria touches Grizabella and then Grizz goes in and sings about wanting to be loved? Kind of undercutting the emotional impact there.

One day I will die. The last thing I will see before I die will be cgi cat Judi Dench looking me right in the eyes and licking her all too human lips. And in that moment I will welcome Death as an old friend and fucking yeet myself off this mortal coil.

Would I watch it again? Well not sober.

[lavenderbones22]

She Is Golden (Nikki Sixx) Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: Marina gives Vince a lap dance...much to the dismay of somebody else.

A/N So glad you guys all liked the first chapter. I’ve had this story written for months but always used other characters. Now, I feel it’s a perfect fit for the guys of Motley Crue. Enjoy the second chapter.

Word Count: 2192

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Anxiety.

'A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.'

Marina had always had bouts of anxiety throughout her life, but nothing compared to this moment right now. Unsure what had come over her, she had actually said yes to giving a lap dance. Maybe it was all the confidence building from Hannah beforehand when she was doing her makeup or maybe it was the fact that these hot guys, or specifically, hot guy, had asked after her. Robert was unsurprisingly ecstatic, so much so that Marina could only guess he thought that meant she would consider actually going on payroll as an official dancer-she'd let him keep thinking that.

"Perfect!" Bonnie finished tying up the straps on Marina's heels-the straps having gone right up to her toned thigh. "You look pale," she commented, stepping back and taking in Marina's appearance. "Sexy as fuck, but pale babe."

Marina laughed. "I feel amazing, but I'm terrified Bon...I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

Pulling her friend into a hug, reassurance.

"Don't think about it like it's work, just pretend he's your boyfriend or something," she advised the girl in front of her who wouldn't stop nervously biting her fingernails. "You've given a lap dance before, right?" She shooed Marina's hand away from her mouth.

Marina nodded.

"Easy done. Just imagine it's a totally normal, couple setting. That's what I did for my first few lap dances. I promise it makes it easier."

The butterflies in Marina's stomach were flying rampant and she honestly thought she was going to throw up.

Her breasts were nearly at her chin with the ridiculous push up, bedazzled bra she was wearing. The thong that went up her butt, she swore was making it's way to China. Despite all of this though she felt incredible, like one of the goddesses she got to watch every night up on stage.

The guy was going to pay her one hundred and fifty dollars for a dance, as Robert had told him that she wasn't actually a dancer but the in-house makeup artist. He had been thankful, telling Robert she was 'phenomenal' and that he 'would do anything to get a dance from her'.

If anything, it made Marina's ego fly.

"Right, he's in the private booth," Robert poked his head into the small dressing room where Marina and Bonnie were. "Ready hun?"

He was cuter close up. Blue, ocean eyes that looked at her like she was the greatest thing he had ever seen. And maybe she was. Although his eyes they were tinged red, Marina guessed from smoking too much weed and various other drugs beforehand. His hair was long, sitting just past his shoulders. It suited him well, especially with the band tee and black jeans he was sporting. He appeared as though he should be in a band from the seventies, she was kind of into it.

The private booths that lap dances...amongst other things... were held in were nothing classy. The girls had been begging Robert to do some sort of renovation for a while now (or so Marina had heard) and he simply refused. He was stingy as fuck old Robert, always keeping his money right where he wanted it, under a wooden panel in his house.

"Banks are overrated." Marina had heard him say a few times and had to ask the girls what on earth he meant by it.

"He's just a bit nutty," Melissa had told her.

"Reckons he doesn't need a bank account but unfortunately when you own the hottest strip club in West Hollywood, you NEED a bank account!" Bonnie had added.

Thick, purple curtains cut Marina and her client off from the rest of the club and a deep red, cheap velvet knock off go-around couch shaped the small area. A small table in the middle meant for drinks and bags-but used for many more things, completed the booth.

Marina had asked Robert whether she should use a stage name since all the other girls did. He and Bonnie both agreeing it was a good idea in order to protect her identity. Settling on 'Cherry', Marina couldn't help but be excited by her new alter-ego.

"You are spectacular, babe," the guy spoke, his eyes crawling the length of Marina's barely covered body.

She wasn't stick thin. No, she had curves. Big breasts matched with gorgeous hips. She had cellulite and stretch marks too, something she had learned to love over the years. She worked out every other day, so that always kept her stomach flat and everything else where it needed to be. She was fit and he was drooling.

She thanked him for his compliment shyly.

"I'm Vince, but you don't really care about that do ya?" He chuckled, Marina could tell he was shit faced.

"It's nice to know your name. I'm, uh... Cherry." Hesitating, she was getting nervous again.

"Cherry ey? That your real name?"

This wasn't Vince's first rodeo, he knew it was a fake name but he also knew that this girl was goddamn beautiful. She shouldn't be giving him a lap dance right now but fuck it, he was a sleaze and he was fucking horny.

Marina ran her hand through her locks, a nervous trait she had had for as long as she could remember.

"Does it matter?" She spoke, confidence shining through out of nowhere. "You're here for a dance anyway, not a discussion about my name."

Led Zeppelin, 'Kashmir' played from the speakers in the booth as Marina was already ten minutes into Vince's dance. She couldn't lie, she was loving it. She loved the attention he gave her, how he simply worshipped anything she did and even if she did fuck anything up he wouldn't know since he was completely wasted.

She rotated her hips against him to the rhythm of the music playing; some random dance song she had no bother for right now. She was enjoying herself and he was well and truly enjoying having her grind against his body; she could tell by the nudge she was getting against her inner thigh. Those skinny jeans were certainly not hiding much.

He was yearning for her body, to feel her skin against his, to grasp her delicious ass in his hands. But although he was pissed as fuck he knew he wasn't allowed.

He also knew that he was never one for rules.

"C'mere," Vince grabbed Marina's hips with force, pulling her into him even more than she already was. "Can I kiss you babe?"

Marina didn't know the in's and out's of giving lap dances in the club but she was pretty sure a standard rule amongst all strip clubs was that men weren't ever meant to touch or kiss the girls in any way.

But what Marina did know was that she was feeling Vince right now.

Unsure still, moving her body slower against him, stuck in her thoughts. Something she did also know was that there weren't any security cameras in the private booths so anything that did happen, as long as she had consented, wouldn't be known to Robert.

He was cute, she thought. He was hot for her and he had been respectful so far.

"Sure," she smiled.

One kiss turned into a pretty heated make out session. She could feel Vince hard as hell underneath her and his fingers creeping along her panty line. In any other situation she would probably have just slept with him but she didn't want to sell him sex under any circumstances.

"God I wanna fuck you so bad," he breathed, kissing and biting along her collarbone. Moaning, Marina let her head fall back. Vince-biting her throat eliciting more moans from Marina.

"Vince, I'm not a hooker," her hand on his chest, pushing him back just a little.

"Well when do you finish work? Come back to my place," he suggested. As much as she wanted to, Marina knew that it wasn't the right thing to do.

"I'm not sure Vince, I don't think that's much of a good idea."

"I think it is babe, c'mon," he kissed down her neck softly, rubbing his hands up and down her bare sides. "I'll make you feel so good." If ever she was tempted it was right now. This boy was pulling her into the depths of hell with him and by God did she wanna go.

"I can't Vince, I'm sorry." She stood up, fixing her breasts back into place. Staring-Vince couldn't look away. Mesmerised. She was shy and he liked that. Although her outward appearance would have one thinking otherwise; her dark makeup, huge tits and innocent face made him go wild.

"Can I at least get your number?" His puppy dog eyes were adorable. He was adorable.

***

Walking back into the dressing room Marina was nearly bowled over by Melissa bounding up to her. "What the fuck is this I hear about you giving a LAP DANCE!?" She yelled excitedly.

Laughing, Marina nodded. "Yeah, I just gave my first lap dance." Melissa engulfed the small girl into a hug telling her over and over again how proud she was and 'welcome to the club'.

Half an hour later and back in her skinnies and bodysuit, Marina wandered back out into the club. Bonnie was on stage again and gave her friend a wink when she spotted her watching from the bar. Still on a high from her session with Vince, the young girl honestly felt the best she'd felt in a while. In a job that had such a strong stigma attached to it, it sure did make a girl feel good about herself.

"Was he alright?" A deep voice sounded from next to her. Startled, Marina looked up and into the eyes of the black haired, gorgeous boy from earlier- Vince's friend.

"He was fine," she laughed.

"Good."

The strong smell of hard liquor lingered on his body mixed with cigarette smoke, weed and cologne; Marina liked it.

"I gather he has a tendency of usually not being alright?" Turning around to order another wine from Hugh, mister dark hair and handsome leaned his side against the bar-eyeing Marina. She had a North Eastern accent and it was charming the pants off of him.

"Usually." His eyes studied the beauty in front of him. He didn't know her name, her age, anything about her but he was floored. A girl this beautiful, this magnificent, shouldn't be roaming around a strip club giving lap dances to his wasted friend.

"Are you alright?" Marina sniggered. This boy wasn't saying much, seeming to be stuck in his own head.

"Y-yeah," he scratched his head-caught off guard. "Sorry. Uh, so your boss said you're not actually a dancer?" Making conversation, desperation, he needed to know everything, anything about her.

"Yeah, Vince was my first lap dance actually...you know...professionally. I'm the house makeup artist," she said with a smile that Nikki couldn't help but find extremely endearing.

God, she was cute.

"Oh God, he didn't try anythin' else with ya did he?" Taking a sip of his beer, Nikki eyed this girl whose name he was still to learn.

Marina bit her lip. "He wanted to fuck, but I'm not a hooker so yeah, told him no obviously. We did make out a bit though."

"Fuck, sorry doll!" Nikki always found himself apologising to people for his best friend's behaviour-that is when they weren't apologising to people for his. "Fuckin' dog, he's got a girlfriend, did he tell ya that?"

Marina raised her eyebrows in surprise. "No, he did not."

Nikki nodded, shameful."She's a real nice girl too. Fuck, he can be such a dick." Nikki spoke more to himself than the pretty brunette.

Marina just shrugged-not surprised. "Honestly, he struck me as that sort of guy. Super nice, but also super charming and can get his way into any girls pants."

Both laughing. "You got him spot on, babe."

Sudden interruption, Bonnie bouncing over. "Miss Marina, there you are!" Engulfing her friend in a hug. "Four shots of tequila thanks H!" Her loud voice easily heard over the music, perhaps more so than usual since Marina could tell she was already drunk. Bonnie stopping, eyeing the tall drink of water in front of her, she liked what she saw.

"Spotted you from the stage baby, want a dance? I'll give it to you for half price coz you're so cute."

Nikki unsure, looking from an eager Bonnie to an awkward looking Marina. Eye contact, almost asking permission. Marina instantly looking away, turning her head back to the bar where Hugh was pouring out the four shots. Nikki would much rather a dance from the pretty girl he'd just been speaking with, whose name he assumed was what her friend had called her. Or maybe it was something he couldn't figure out in his hazy state of mind; but it was just as beautiful as she was.

He had gotten many dances off girls before but he more respect for Marina than getting some cheap dance off of her. She seemed different and he wasn't Vince.

Marina, who was now looking at the ground. Bonnie always did this. Overconfidence, something far more than what Marina had.

He was drunk and a little high on some shit. He was horny too and after all, he was in a strip club. He had just met Marina and god did he want to do dirty things to her, but not tonight. Bonnie would have to do.

"Yeah, alright."

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