Gender: Female Age: 21 Location: USA
|Introduction: — THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND VULGAR LANGUAGE. It is fictional and does not depict real people or events. — Call girl, Angel, believes there's nothing nothing more to life than what she is doing now. But when she falls in love with an undercover cop, and things get heated between her and her pimp, Angel searches for answers. Is this really all she is destined for? Could she escape if she wanted to? Would the outside world accept her if she left this lifestyle behind?|
Chapter Eight: Lessons Learned The Hard Way
Angel, Rich, and Emily sat silently in the truck, outside of the motel.
Emily was looking out the back passenger window at the fairly vacant motel. No doubt she was confused as to why they were here, and naïve as to what was about to happen.
Rich stared out the front window and into space. Emotion lacked on his face or in his eyes. Perhaps a bit of remorse was burning in the pit of his stomach.
Angel stared down at her hands in her lap as she sat in the passenger seat. She didn’t want to look at the motel, knowing better than to believe it’s façade of being anything more than a brothel, and the inevitable doom that awaited Emily just inside the doors. Her stomach churned.
“Take her inside,” Rich spoke quietly, still staring off into space.
Emily and Angel both got out of the truck and Angel led the girl to the main building.
Frank was waiting for them. His foul smirk lingered on his face, his wicked eyes looking Emily over, making the girl shrink within herself, under his gaze. “Room eighteen,” he hissed.
Angel swallowed hard and took the key as Frank held it out to her. Room eighteen was almost at the very end of the building. Angel lowered her head as she led Emily back outside and down the walkway to her room.
The distinct moaning and crying, and even a scream or two, were impossible to drown out as they passed room after room, and the inevitable realization as to Emily’s purpose here, finally began to sink into the girl’s conscious mind.
Angel looked back at the girl just in time to catch her wipe a few tears from her cheeks. She turned away. If Emily survived this, she would come out of it numb and emotionless. Her soul would be crushed and be sucked completely out of her by the merciless men. If Emily didn’t survive, well…
They seemed to walk for quite a while before Angel finally put the key in the door and opened it. She held the door open as Emily walked in.
Angel took Emily’s bag and set it on the sink in the bathroom. She knew the girl wouldn’t need anything from it for quite a while, but also knew the thought that she still had her belongings with her would help her push through the oncoming week. She sat Emily on the side of the bed and removed her shoes and socks.
Emily was tense, trying not to cry as she sat in her t-shirt and shorts. Angel looked up at the girl. It was the first time that day Angel was able to bring herself to look Emily in the eyes. Angel could sense her terror.
“Don’t let them get in your head. Remember what I said at the club? It’s just acting. Let them do as they please, but don’t let them take your soul from you. Stay true to yourself. They can’t take that from you.” It was all Angel could muster up. Angel bowed her head again as she stood and left the girl to face the revolting truth.
Once the door was shut, Angel headed back down the walkway to Rich’s truck. She could see Rich watching her from his truck. She bowed her head and walked past the truck. She turned the corner to the side of the building and promptly vomited. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand before going back to the truck.
“You alright?” Rich asked as she opened the door.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled as she climbed into the passenger seat. She shut the door and Rich sped off to drop Angel off at the club for the day.
“Hey Brik,” Angel mumbled as she walked into the club.
“Hey. Hey, you ok?”
Angel didn’t respond to the bouncer as she let the door shut behind her. She sighed, making her way to the dressing room. She dressed herself in her usual black outfit, putting on a pair of fishnets, black hot pants, and a black studded bra. She slipped on black fishnet gloves, and her knee-high black boots.
She said not a word as she made her way out of the dressing room and up onto the stage. Her dancing suffered. Not only was her heart not in her dancing, but her mind was still back at the motel.
She was mid-spin around the onstage striper pole when she caught of glimps of him. Dante was there, watching her. She about let go of the pole when she saw him. Quickly, she recovered herself on the pole and then continued to dance on the stage. She continued to keep her eyes on him as she finished the song.
Dante watched her, holding a beer in one hand, leaning against the bar. He smiled at her, his eyes warm and calm as he watched her dance. He nodded slightly, silently willing her to continue her dance.
Angel’s heart almost leapt at the sight of his approval, and she continued. Her efforts increased as she danced, her mind on Dante, the strange man who insisted on her pleasure and happiness, above his own. For some reason, she felt the need to impress him, to dance as best as she could and make him proud. Her eyes still on him, she concentrated on her dancing. Her heart was creeping into her dancing, but for him and solely him.
When she heard the overlap of her song and the song of the next dancer, she quickly finished. She picked up the money from the stage floor that people had thrown at her and left the stage, making room for the new girls to dance.
Angel was folding the bills of money and tucking them into her bra when a hand gently landed on her shoulder. Growling, she turned quickly and lashed out at whoever it was touching her.
“Woah! Hey, easy there” Dante jumped out of the way in the nick of time as Angel swung for his head, his hands up, showing he meant no harm.
Angel sighed, her body relaxed as she realized it was only Dante, and not someone else trying to grab at her. Not that it was really alright for Dante to do it either. “Hey,” she breathed calmly.
Dante smiled at her, one corner of his mouth higher than the other, almost smirking at her.
“What’s up?” Angel inquired, unsure as to what the man wanted.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he replied, cocking his head in the direction of the bar.
Angel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. What was his intention? Just because he had insisted on her own pleasures before his own during sex, meant nothing. He still paid for sex. He still invested in this life. The life that resulted in millions of girls being used and abused every day. The same life that had costed even more girls their lives. Angel wondered if his offer to buy her a drink was nothing more than a ploy to get her on her back again.
Nevertheless, Angel led the way to the bar, Dante following close behind.
She sat on a stool, and Dante took the one to her left.
“What will it be?” the bar tender asked Dante.
“Whatever the lady would like.”
Lady. Not girl. Not whore. Not slut. Not prostitute. Lady.
Angel turned from Dante to the bar tender. “What’s on tap?”
He rattled off about four beers and Angel settled on a Bud Light.
Dante raised an eyebrow, a smirk across his face.
“What?” Angel asked.
“You’re a beer girl huh?”
Angel just looked at him for a moment. Was there something wrong with liking beer?
Dante chuckled. “I was expecting something fruity.”
“I like girly drinks too.” Angel knew beer wouldn’t sneak up on her like the hard liquor in the fruity drinks. She would still be well aware of her surroundings, in case this offer of Dante’s really was some kind of ploy.
Angel about jumped, hearing Rich’s voice loud behind her. She turned, already reaching into her bra for the cash.
Rich held out a hand, to which Angel put her night’s earnings without a thought. She risked a quick glance up at Rich’s face, to see him staring at Dante, his eyes cold, hard, and warning. Angel glanced at Dante, who was returning the threatening stare with his own cool, calm, and collective one.
Rich narrowed his eyes a bit at Dante “you buy her a drink?”
Dante took a sip from his own beer before replying “yes.”
Rich looked him up and down, sizing him up. “What’s your business?”
“My business?” Dante asked, almost surprised “my business is enjoying a drink with this lady here.” He nodded towards Angel, who cowered back ever so slightly, not wanting to be dragged into the tense situation.
Rich shot a cold glance at Angel. He remembered Dante, the man who was willing to pay big bucks for the right girl. “You looking for another night?”
Dante stood, downing the rest of his beer. “No need to discuss business in front of the lady.”
Rich’s eyes narrowed again, but he nodded “come with me.”
Dante looked at Angel “please excuse me for a minute.”
Silent still, Angel watched as Rich led Dante upstairs. It was unusual; customers were never allowed upstairs. It was reserved for the pimps and club workers. Her eyes narrowed. So it was just a ploy. She looked at her untouched beer before picking it up and heading towards the front door.
She pushed her way through the people paying to door fee, careful not to spill the drink. “Brik,” Angel called to the club’s bouncer who was just outside the open door.
He poked his head inside, seeing Angel, he smiled and reached out for her. He took her hand and practically dragged her through the small crowd of people. “Hey Angel. What’s going on?” he asked curiously.
“Here,” Angel held the beer out to him “have a drink.”
He took the drink with a sincere “thanks.”
Angel smiled gently at the man. He was truly a good man. He knew the girls weren’t simply dancers, and he knew none of them liked what they did. But he never once judged them. Angel remembered when she first met him, how she hated him. She felt anyone willingly working a job at the club was endorsing in the lifestyle that the girls so desperately didn’t want to be a part of. But after a while, Angel realized that Brik too didn’t want to be a part of the lifestyle. He was here strictly for the girls. There had been numerous times Brik had pulled men off of Angel and the other girls. Drunk men who felt they had every right to force themselves on the girls. Brik had even picked one man up with one hand and threw him out the club’s back door when he put a knife to Angel’s throat in the lady’s restroom. Brik had saved Angel’s life and many of the other girl’s as well. There were times when a pimp would get too rough with a girl and Brik would step in, speaking soothingly and calmly to the pimp until he left the girl alone, then Brik would help the girl and bandage her. He even gave money to some of the girls who hadn’t eaten, just so they could go to the vending machine upstairs. Brik was an all around good guy, and Angel knew she was truly blessed to have him in her life.
“I gotta get back inside” Angel said and waved as she turned and headed back into the club.
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