yessss more saloon girl I love this concept
The dullness of the sheets feels starkly contrasted by the glow of the candlelight that illuminates the room. You lay on the mattress with a sheet pressed tightly to your chest, your heart still racing. The floorboards creek under every subtle shift of weight that is not anything out of the ordinary for this place.
Through the door that remains closed you can hear wanton moans, as much of a show as the music that filters through the floor. There it is, the usual noises that linger in the saloon, that plague the working girls and you are no exception.
Your fingers tighten on the sheets as your eyes are trained on the roof above you. Wood that’s knotted and marred by age, a window that’s stained by time yet gives a clear glimpse at the darkness of the night.
It’s the first prick of tears that befalls your eyes that finally draws your guest to move. The way you shift and the way your throat tightens, the sorrowing whimper that hangs in the mix of noise that fills every inch of the saloon.
You turn your head and look at the few stars that are visible through the glass. Your mind wanders as you take in their implicit beauty, the marvellousness of something you wished you could touch but could never obtain.
“I gave you extra.” It’s the smoothness of his voice and the dipping of the bed that grounds you again, that stirs your attention back into focus. “Should be enough for a new dress-”
“Don’t do that.” Your voice betrays your mind and you turn your head, you face him as he sits on the edge. “Don’t give me extra.”
His eyebrows furrow, heavy on his forehead and his fingers curl against the mattress. You smell the whiskey and the smoke from his cigar, you smell the lingering stench of gunpowder that remains ever present. It’s just one more addition to this man that makes him more complex than you care to imagine.
“You deserve it.” He reaches for you and you turn over, you turn away from him as tears sting your eyes and your heart aches.
It burns deep into your chest with regret and a disappointment in yourself. It had come to this, to you letting seed stain the sheets and fall ill between your legs. You have allowed yourself to muddy the feeling of love and passion until it is nothing but a bitter ash that taints everything it touches.
Your mother is gone, your father is gone and you are a working woman.
“Y/N don’t do that.” He scolds you, his tone shifts and there’s an edge to it that almost makes you reconsider speaking back to him. “Take the money.”
“You’ve already paid me, you don’t need to act like this is more than…”
“Than what?” John Price, the sheriff and your father’s friend, has bedded you multiple times.
So has Johnny and Simon and Kyle.
The four of them are on rotation and you are just a warm wet hole for them to sink into.
“…than you paying a whore for her time.” Your throat constricts and your eyes are screwed closed. You feel the lump in your throat painfully lodged there like it could very well cut off your air supply.
A part of you wishes that it would.
“Fuck, stop sayin’ that-”
“You paid me for my body.” You whisper in the quietude of the room, your eyes leaking hot and heavy tears that roll down your cheeks. “I’m a whore.”
“Y/N-”
“Stop.” You finally sit up, you have to lest you choke on the bile that seems to creep up your throat. “Don’t try and make it better, I don’t need you to comfort me.”
“Look at me-”
“You had your fun, you paid me. Get out.” Your heart is aching, your hands feel like they’d been turned to ice. You want to throw up and scream all at once, you want to scrub your skin raw and remove every part of yourself that can feel.
You don’t want to feel this anymore. You don’t want to feel like every valuable piece of you has been stripped away, because what happens after?
What happens after they leave you alone? What will happen to you when your body has been taken enough that you are seen as nothing but an object?
Perhaps it was already too late.
This isn’t what you wanted for yourself. This isn’t what any woman would want in this life but what other option did you have? This town was small and every good man was taken, every other that remained was a miserable man who would fall into the drink and take it out on you.
Which was worse then? To lose every part of yourself that you valued or to become someone’s punching bag?
“Love-”
“Get out.” You can’t face him, you can’t look at him without furthering your emotional breakdown. “Just go, please just go.”
Gone is the force of your voice, all that’s left is the begging. And the begging is incomplete without your cheeks inevitably being stained by tears.
He doesn’t wait. He doesn’t hesitate now. He stands and grabs his clothes, shoving them on his body. While you remain sitting up, you stare out the window as he gets ready to leave. You see glimpses of him in the reflection of the window as he moves toward the door, pausing at the bills that remain on the dresser.
“I think the four of you need to find a new girl.” You mumble lowly as he rests his hand on top of the bills, only to remove them as you speak. “There’s a new one coming next week, she’ll be good for you.”
John doesn’t say anything in exchange. John opens the door with force and steps outside of the room, hesitating for a single moment. Through the now open door, you can hear Johnny’s voice followed by the clinking of glasses and rowdy crowd of men willing to be entertained.
“You let other men, other than us four, touch you, I’ll bloody well kill ‘em. We all will.” And then he slams the door behind him, with enough force to rattle the floorboards.
And when he’s gone, you roll over onto your side and fold your hands beneath your cheeks. You stare out the window at the visible stars you can see, hopelessly and helplessly wishing that one of those stars could be your new escape.
