The beginning after the end.

                                                                                  -Sierra

Note: (This work is purely fiction and does not correspond to real-life events or places. This chapter includes depictions of sexual assault, trauma, and strong language)

I bit my red lip as I glanced at the crowd, seductively swaying my body around the pole and snaking my waist around to make the crowd before me roar. My hips were moving in rhythm to the seductive upbeat music booming through the room.

Look sexy.

I loathe this job, actually, I have a passionate hate for it.

This job helped me discover that I have extraordinary acting abilities and exceptional flexibility which I regret not exploring earlier. This job gave me a fine check. This job sold my dignity.

Do it for her.

Men watched my every move. Some applauding, some smirking, others having drool drip from their mouths. But all in all, they all paid to see my show, more like my character’s show.

They were hopelessly throwing dollar bills at me as I merely stretched my legs and did a few seductive moves. Their cheers and perverted looks didn't faze me because I was utterly disgusted by it but I put on a smile so I could empty their pockets.

As I moved, I gathered the money in my panties, lace socks, and in my bra, and the rest in a pink sack that was part of my costume. When the music stopped, my feet led me off the stage as I waved and sent flying kisses to my audience.

Immediately after I exited the stage, I fitted the money into my backpack.

I went back backstage and stood in front of my dressing mirror. In front of me was a hopeless girl with a  face caked in a heavy layer of makeup and a blonde wig fitted on top of her hair. I grimaced then bit down the feeling of pity rising in my stomach.

Just 6 more months.

This is my everyday hustle. This is the prison I escape to every night but unlike actual prison, I can leave at any time but choose not to.

You probably think I desperately want my pockets full, and that is correct. I have no excuse or no need to contradict that.

I clenched my fists and let out a deep breath then unclenched them.

I changed out of the uncomfortable lingerie I wore for my performance and put on the staff uniform which was a lace shirt that intentionally showed too much cleavage and a short white pleated skirt with red high heels that had straps that climbed up my calf.

It took me time to learn how to walk in these the first time I wore them and now, they’re as good as sneakers.

On my right breast hang a white tug with my work name highlighted in red.

‘Sunny’

I shuffled through the crowd filled with drinking, lewd dancing, shouting, and doing all sorts of acts on the dance floor booming with loud music from all four corners and reeking of alcohol, stress, depression, sweat, and sadness.

Yes, I can get scents of emotions and in a club, there is almost never a happy or joyful scent in the air.

There’s always a man or woman dying inside because of guilt and I always suspect that it’s because they’re cheating on their spouse.

I’ve had a few men stop sex midway with me because they felt guilty and most of the time, they would just leave or talk it through with me. I did appreciate the conversations from time to time. It was like a slightly euphoric feeling, actually talking to someone about something other than sex.

Some men who I slept with were doing it to cope with heartbreak or to relieve stress, others were doing it too because they can. Some men were the sweetest people I’d ever met, they would treat me with respect and make love to me respectfully and make sure I was comfortable while others…didn’t give two fucks about me, I was their purchased toy.

I didn’t talk to people much. I didn’t have many (any) friends.

Some days, I would watch from afar as people brought their peers to celebrate birthdays here. I would watch the smiles with a bitter smile on my face.

How long will it take for them to betray each other.?

I was sick, rotting from the inside out. I would spitefully peer at them from a distance. From the outside, it seemed like jealousy.

My heels clacked on the tiled floor with muffled noise as I made my way to talk to the bartender who seems to be the only male employee here who didn’t strip and someone who I would consider a comrade.

I halted in my steps because of a familiar disgusting scent meeting my nostrils. It was lust and drunkenness.

My heart slammed into my ribcage once and then fell, I was scared.

A man stood beside me with a smirk. The scent made me want to give up what I had for dinner but I wasn’t allowed to do that.

"Hey, sweetheart you wanna go have some fun."

Seth hummed from behind me. He asks me almost every week since I changed my appearance. He pays well every time but…he gets violent at times and he’s always hell-bent on it being me who he sleeps with. In a way, it’s an obsession.

His breath was tickling my neck. I shivered and swallowed the thickness in my throat as I tried to get my heart rate to slow down and tried burying the resentment surfacing inside me.

It’s okay Sierra.

Lately, I haven’t been sleeping with as many men. I haven’t been in my element so I haven’t been making as much. It’s been two weeks since I last had sex, and it’s like I’ve got obsessed with the feeling of not having anyone touch me to the point that I’m willing to make up an excuse at this point.

I’m like a prisoner who had a taste of freedom and didn’t want to return behind those iron steel bars surrounded by those brick walls.

I wore my most convincing smile yet and turned on my heel to talk to him seductively. "I'm sorry daddy but I'm already booked, maybe tomorrow."

I said passing my hands all over him to create the illusion that I was genuinely sad that he doesn’t get to fuck me. "Come on, you’ve been avoiding me lately, princess. I’ll pay extra today. I  know you love it when I do that, don’t you?"

 He wrapped his hands around my waist bringing me closer to him. You know those times when you only have plan A and you're desperately hoping it works because you don’t have plan B, yeah this is one of those times in other words I have been caught. I really didn’t want to do anything.

"Is there something daddy has done to upset you?" He brought his face closer to mine and kissed me briefly before looking back into my eyes.

“Daddy, maybe tomorrow, I can’t today.”

I wanted him to leave me, stop touching me, stop trying.

Hold on just a little Sierra.

“You know I hate it when you act stubborn, baby.”

 He kissed me hungrily but I didn't respond. He always gets like this, whenever I don’t submit firsthand, he gets forceful. His scent was irritating my nose, his wet lips were uncomfortable, and this felt like cold water was being poured on me.

This is your place.

This disgust was making my skin crawl and my heart pound in fear. I didn’t want this.

I am aware that my resistance is almost useless because I’ve done everything sexual up to this point. I lost count of the number of men who have seen me naked, held me, and inserted violence into sex so why am I holding on to this? Why am I fighting?

 I can't scream for help because it's practically my job to be used. This just felt wrong. I tried pushing him off me but he couldn't budge.

A tear slipped out of my eye. He held my hips and carried me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around his waist so I could not fall. He kissed my neck with his rough lips and sucked on the skin hard. I wasn't making a sound, if I did, it would be out of pain.

“Do you see how much you missed daddy? You’re getting so hot down there, I can feel it on my shirt.” He whispered in my ear as he licked my neck.

I wasn’t getting aroused at all, it didn’t feel good. When was the last time I had good sex?

"Please Daddy stop," I said pleading and hoping to get mercy out of him. "Shut up and enjoy." He said in a rougher, more stern tone. I shut my eyes hard and tears kept slipping out as he put his hands in my underwear.

"Someone help," I said in a low whisper as tears rolled down my cheek continuously. He was shoved off me by someone and he landed on the floor with a bloodied lip.

I stared in horror at the blood that was dripping from his face.