The Don's Stripper Bride

Lena’s POV

The bass thrummed through the walls of Club Velvet's dressing room, vibrating against my ribs like a second heartbeat. I hunched over the compact mirror, the mascara wand trembling between my fingers. Above us, fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered, casting a sickly red glow over every stripper’s skin.

I let out an exasperated sigh, fisting through my hair as the email I received from the hospital this morning flashed through my mind. “We will stop  Elsa’s chemotherapy if you don’t make your next payment.” 

Elsa is my six-year-old sister. She is brilliant. Funny. She is supposed to be out on the field, laughing and catching grasshoppers as she normally does. Instead, she's confined to a hospital bed and hooked to various life support machines. 

Tears rolled down my eyes, and pain rippled through me at the mere thought of losing her if I can't pay the hospital. My mum can’t take care of her, she has a stroke, and my dad? We woke up one morning, and he was gone. No one knows why.

Still, all the pain Elsa is going through is nothing compared to the harassment I endured here. I had to drill it into my skull every single day for the past six months that I was doing this for Elsa’s chemo treatments. For my mom's meds.  

"Listen up, girls." Aunt Lydia's raspy voice cut through the chatter. Her cigarette dangled from her lips as she surveyed the room like a general inspecting troops. "Go out there and make these horny men empty their wallets. I want to see green tonight, not tears." 

“Yes, Aunt Lydia,” the girls chorused and began filing out, their heels clicking softly against the concrete floor. I grabbed my waistbag, ready to follow, when Lydia's hand slammed against my chest. 

“Not you." My stomach dropped to my feet. I knew that tone.

"You're light this week," Aunt Lydia said, exhaling smoke through her nose. "Real light."

"I know, Aunt Lydia. I'm trying my best. I'll pay up as soon as I can. It's just my sister's treatments are…."

"I don't give a shit about your sick sister." She blew smoke in my face. My stomach churned. "Jade's kid died last month. Still, she managed to pull in three grand. She's pushing thirty, and those men still throw money at her feet." Aunt Lydia stepped closer. "You're nineteen. Those horny bastards should be throwing money at you."

"I promise I'll…"

The opening beats of "Pour some sugar on me" pounded through the speakers. We both turned toward the stage entrance. 

It was time.

"Get your ass out there and work. Or you're back to cleaning toilets." She grabbed my chin, her nails digging in. I winced slightly, the dull ache spreading through me. "Last warning."

Tears burned at the back of my throat, “Y..Yes,  Aunt Lydia." I responded, pushing back tears, careful not to smudge my mascara. But inside, I could feel my heart shattering into small pieces. 

I walked toward the stage on legs that felt like jelly. Elsa needed her chemo. Mom couldn't work anymore with her legs all twisted up due to her stroke. I almost broke down. I almost screamed…I’m quitting.

However, I reminded myself that this was the only job that accepted me without requiring educational qualifications. My dream was to become a surgeon, but I gave it up for my family, they are the only things that matter to me.

Hands spanked my ass from behind, pulling me out of my reverie, my palms itched to slap them away. My jaw clenched tightly, knowing Aunt Lydia’s eyes were on me, so I just sent a cold glare towards them instead. 

On the stage, I grabbed the silver pole. It's cold seeped into my palms, making them numb. 

I swayed my hips seductively, twirling on the pole with my legs slinging freely in the air just like I’d been taught.

Looking back up. 

I saw him. 

Corner booth. Black suit that probably cost more than the earth itself. Green eyes staring at me like it was memorizing every inch of my soul. Red hair, fiery like flames. 

Two girls caressed his tattooed chest and his member.

He paid no attention to them, just kept staring at me with an intensity that made my spine straighten involuntarily. 

Goosebumps rose on my arms. That was the fear creeping in. I wasn’t about to become a dark alley murder victim simply because I looked into the devil’s eyes for too long. 

I looked away fast, focusing on the dollar bills on the stage. Ones and fives. Pathetic.

When I looked back. He was already gone. Except for the two blondes who were already bored and checking their phones.

I finished dancing and counted my money. Sixty-three dollars. My chest tightened. That wouldn't even cover what I owe the club, let alone Elsa’s hospital bills.

“You got VIP.” Rico appeared next to me, his gold tooth catching the light. 

“What?”

“Private room. Man dropped two grand just to get you alone.” He grinned like this was good news. 

My mouth became dry. Everyone knew what VIP meant. What they expected you to do. What Aunt Lydia would do to you if you didn't. 

“Move it, princess.” Rico grabbed my arm and steered me down to the hallway. 

The private room was small and dark. Just a leather chair and a little table. It smelled like cheap cologne and something else that made my nose wrinkle.

The man on the chair was disgusting. Fat. Balding. Maybe fifty. His shirt was stained and his hair was greasy. He looked me up and down like I was a piece of meat at the butcher shop. Same man who has been wanting to get into my pants for months. This is Aunt Lydia's doing. I know it.

“Don’t just stand there. I paid good money to watch you get me hard.” He smirked, revealing his dirty brown teeth that were shaped like that of a rabbit's.

I nearly threw up. But I made myself step closer. He reeked of whiskey and something medicinal like cough syrup. 

“No touching. That's the rule.” 

He laughed and lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. “For two thousand bucks, I make the rules.”

He yanked me down onto his lap. I could feel him against me, hard and gross. I jumped up as if he were on fire. 

“I said no touching,”

“And I said I paid for you.” He stood up, flipping me onto the sofa. “You’re gonna give me what I want.”

There was nowhere to run. His hands were on me, grabbing and squeezing. I screamed, but the music was too loud. Nobody would hear me.

This was it.

I had heard stories from the other strippers about how men turned into beasts in the VIP.

Was this how I was going to lose my virginity? To this pig who smelled like rat piss and boiled onion.

How do I explain to my boyfriend, Nathan? When he doesn’t even know I’m a stripper. When he thinks I work in a bakery downtown, because I’m too ashamed to own this part of me.

He released my hands, reaching to unbuckle his belt. 

A chance. 

I spotted an ashtray on the table, and it contained a heavy glass inside, big enough to cause damage. 

My hands moved on instinct and brought it down on his head. Hard. Fast.

POP

The sound that it made will stick with me forever. Like dropping a pumpkin. 

He groaned, rolling off my body, hit the floor, and didn't get back up. Blood spread out from under his head, dark and thick. His eyes remained open, staring at nothing. 

“Oh God. Oh no. What did I do?” I stumbled backwards, I was shaking so hard I could barely stand. “I killed him. I actually killed him.” 

I had to run. To get out of here before someone finds out. 

When I turned to make a run for the door. 

I froze in my tracks.

My heart pounded in my chest violently like a war drum as I met the same pair of green eyes from earlier. 

It was HIM.

The man from the booth. And he was staring at me like he was ready to detach my head from my neck.