The dark room lit only by neon lights had been hard to adjust to at first, but now that many months had passed, Adela had learned to find her peace with the club she worked three nights a week. It was just another means to an end for her, extra money to help ease her through their family's debts a little more comfortably in their father's absence.
It was dance, just with a different audience to what she would normally contend with, and she felt no shame in enjoying it: a display of her true strength and skill, and an opportunity to showcase her talent in a different light.
Adela's limbs navigated the pole and its dias with ease and blatant enjoyment, clearly content and in her own world as the regulars and passing visitors watched on with money in hand. For a while, she kept her distance, pouring her heart and soul into the movements of her body, every inch the performer on this stage that she was in the grand halls of the Royal Ballet School.
She tended to collect more notes the more effort she put in, and tonight was no exception as she gathered the money scattered across the floor at her feet. After a long shift, many of the men had returned home, but it seemed one man remained at the edge of her platform, clearly awaiting her attention.
"The night is nearly gone to the sun," She called out, her chocolate gaze settling over him as she neared. She wasn't supposed to play favourites with customers, but he was the only man here and she was eager to turn as much profit as possible. And in her approach, his designer attire and a hefty stack of cash made it clear that he was a man worthy of her exploitation. "Are you not yet tired?"
"Not yet."
The young woman slowly lowered her posture until she hovered just above him. She was tired, her muscles began to complain of the strain they usually withstood day and night, but her interest was in the money - what must easily have been several months rent for her apartment, or perhaps a sizeable amount of her mother's mortgage...
"The club will be closing soon. I can offer you one last dance, but I'm afraid it will have to be short." Curious, she sought recognition in the low light, attempting to decipher just who was rich enough to lounge so easily in the presence of such vast amounts of money.
"I'm here to ask for something else, actually." The man spoke with quiet confidence, snuffing the cigarette against the table beside him and exhaling his last breath of smoke. Dark green eyes sought her own, and Adela met them with a well-mastered look of seduction.
"And what may that be?"
"I have a private function coming up, about three weeks time. I'm looking to hire a dancer for my guests...I'm looking for someone just like you."
A brow rose at that. Here in the club, she had the guarantee of protection from security and strict no-touch rules that kept her free of harrassment from her crowds. At a private function, that wasn't something she could be so sure of. It seemed her guest had sensed her hesitation and had even found some amusement in it.
"Don't worry, it's all perfectly legal and legitimate. I have a reputation to maintain, after all."
So, he was well known, for one reason or another. With that in mind, and with his reputation on the line as he said it would be, Adela began to consider the opportunity.
"I come at a high price, Sir. My time and work is valuable." This was her part to barter - just how much cash she could work out of him. "Are you willing to pay me my worth?"
The man could only laugh. Did she really not know who he was, and how much money he turned over in a single minute? She may not have been doing much to feed his ego, but saw it fit to entertain her none the less.
"With me now, I have a total of five thousand pounds. For the event itself...I'm willing to part with ten thousand, for a whole night of high-quality performances. Is that a high enough price for you, my dear?"
An astounded silence filled the air for a few moments, her heart stopping momentarily, before coming to life beyond measure. To her...that amount of money was beyond imaginable. Slowly, she nodded her consent, and in turn he slid the tightly secured stack of cash onto the dias beside her. Then from his pocket, he drew a business card and a sheet with the event's information and placed it atop the money.
"You're to contact me with your details immediately, so that we can further arrange your role for the night, Ms." He rose from his seat in a timely fashion, giving her one last lingering look, before turning heel and heading towards the door. "I will be seeing you soon."
And with that, he was gone. Adela's tired eyes watched his back as he left, and then took a curious peek at the information he had left her to go over. It was then, of course, that everything clicked.
JAMES REYNOLDS, ceo and public figure.
CONTACT BY TELEPHONE: 0207....
In terms of connections with my other muses: Adela has danced privately for James on one or two occasions...doesn't really like him, but is more than happy to exploit him financially.
She's probably seen Aidan at the gym, but has probably had little to do with him.
She may also have encountered Sting during the days she danced at clubs.
Deft fingers pierced pins through the layers of fabric that encased the model's body, an array of pieces that would soon become as one in the image of a runway dress. Dramatic and high-maintenance as she might be, Eleanor was one of Adela's favourites for the catwalk and photo-shoots alike, so every frustration that came between them was worth it.
She knew that the feeling was mutual, too. That was why they always came to each other for work.
"I promise I don't need much longer. I just have to get the right measurements...it's got to fit perfectly."
She was probably irresponsible to be dragging the younger woman down into the depths of baby fever with her - she wasn't convinced she was ready for a baby, let alone eighteen year old Hisui - but it was actually nice to know that someone else appreciated babies in the way that she did.
She'd wanted to be a mother for as long as she could remember, to love someone and nurture them in much the same way that her own mother had. And though she still had many years left to become one, she often found herself growing impatient.
A dainty finger scrolled through an instagram page on her friend's phone, leaning over against her smaller friend.
Her work would be nothing without inspiration, and where better to turn than a showcase of artistic greats? Though she was a free-flowing individual with ideas as unique as the prints on her fingers, she saw no harm in looking for guidance from the work of others.
Thankfully, it was quiet in the old gallery building, likely due to the gradual recline of the sun as it set behind the horizon. Most people had headed home by now, but she remained, gazing at the array of portraits and landscapes on every wall and plinth.
She was so absorbed in her fascination, in fact, that she had not noticed that she was no longer alone in this hall of paintings.
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
prguitarman
romaincrisis
turnnoffyourmind
ellievsbear
