i mean people don’t really interact because you clearly use AI to write your pete’s place stuff
looooool. girlie pop, it takes me tooooo long to get shit out for it to be ai and i’ve been on tumblr writing in other fandoms for yeaaaaaars. and those who have followed me through all my accounts can attest that my writing is alllll the same.
i’m rusty, yes. and i’ve always been terrible for being repetitive, and i like to use what i like to use.
༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
⁀➷ previous chapter
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings:
pete brenner x female!reader.ari levinson x female!reader.
jake jensen x female!reader
steve rogers x female reader
curtis everett x female!reader.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ & future pairings:
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 14,907. | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: alcohol, general sadness, pete being a scumbag, kidnapping, captivity, talks of trafficking, abuse, mean men, non-con mentions.
please let me know if i missed any, i am tired and i think i’ve listed everything.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
notes:
holy. fucking. shit.
here you go. have it. it's done. take it from me. please. i'm so tired.
any mistakes are my own and i don't care about them
tags: @fandom-meet-fanthem @epiphanyrogers
Pete stepped into the firelight, casting a long shadow across the polished floor.
His hands came together in a slow, sarcastic applause with a smile of pure venom on his face. His suit was wrinkled from a long night in the club. His eyes raked across your naked body with a newfound sense of ownership that made your skin crawl and bile rise in your throat. You instinctively went to cover yourself, hands coming up to cover your breasts, dropping the glass Ari had handed to you. The liquid splashed against your feet as you drew your legs up.
"Well, well, well," Pete drawled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Didn't actually think I'd catch you red-handed, Sugar. But here we are."
Your heart slammed against your ribs as you tried to scramble off of Ari’s lap, but his hands tightened around you, holding you in place. You twisted to look at him, searching his face for a shared confusion, for anger, anything, something— but all you found was a cold, detached calm.
"Ari?" Your voice cracked. "What—"
"Relax," Ari said quietly, his tone flat. He didn’t spare you so much as a glance. His eyes were locked on Pete’s with a knowing glint.
Relax.
Relax?
You stared at his face, slowly mapping out his features before you looked at Pete and let out a shocked sigh when your stomach dropped as you put together the similarities and wondered how you could’ve been so blind as not to have seen it sooner.
"Oh, don't look so shocked, sweetheart," Pete said, a mocking sweetness laced in his tone as he stepped closer. The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting his face in a way that made him look grotesque. "You didn't really notice the family resemblance?”
“Family.” You said bluntly. “Brothers?”
“My uncle,” Ari explained simply.
“Did you think you were getting away with it? All those private dances, all that cash you've been pocketing without telling me? You thought I wouldn't find out?" Pete asked as he stalked closer.
Your mouth opened, but the sound failed to make an appearance. Your brain was scrambling as it tried to piece together what was happening, as if you were trying to hold water in your hands—everything was slipping through as you tried to make sense of how Pete had found out.
"I—" you started to explain, but Pete cut you off with a sharp laugh.
"Save it,” He sneered. “I know everything. Every client you propositioned. Every dollar you didn't report. Every lie you told." He stopped a few feet away from the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he bent at the middle, towering over you with a triumphant grin, "And you know what the best part is? You walked right into it."
Your eyes darted back to Ari. He was still holding you, still calm, and then realization hit you like a freight train.
He knew.
He was part of this.
"No," you whispered, shaking your head. "No, you—"
"I what?" Ari's voice was cold, detached. He finally looked at you, not as a woman he’d just spent the last hour methodically taking apart, but as a piece of evidence, or a chore he’d finally completed. There was nothing in his eyes. No warmth. No affection. Just... nothing. Not a single ounce of semblance of the man you had grown an affection for over the past few weeks. "Thought I liked you? Thought this was real?"
His words were like a knife to the gut. You couldn’t stop the tears welling in your eyes.
“He was the bait, Sugar,” Pete said coolly, almost cheerfully. “And you took it, hook, line, and sinker. He did his job, got you here, and now…” He trailed off as he gestured around the room, at the manor, at the trap you had fallen into. “You’re all mine… Well, ours.”
Your hands shook, sending a tremble that took over your entire body. You once again attempted to free yourself from Ari, and this time he did let you go. You slip off the couch, your legs shaking, and head past Pete to grab your clothes, the warmth of the fireplace flickering across your skin. As you bend down, Pete’s voice stops you.
“I wouldn’t bother with those.”
You freeze, halfway bent to gather the sorry excuse of a dress.
“You’re not going anywhere, and we’ve both already seen what you’ve got to offer, Sugar. Why hide it now?”
The fear wracking your bones crystallized into something else; something hotter. It floods through your veins like gasoline meeting a lit match. You look at the dress, then back at Ari, who is putting his jeans back on. You waited for him to turn and look at you, but instead, he opted to look out the window as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
You snatch the dress from the floor, turning your attention back to Pete.
“Fuck you,” You spat, wringing out the dress and stepping into it. You heard Ari laugh shortly followed by the click of his lighter as you pulled up the dress and let the straps snap sharply on your shoulders before grabbing your bag. “I’m leaving. Right fucking now.”
Pete’s smile widens, and your stomach turns.
He’s on you within seconds, knocking your bag, the contents flying all over the floor. He grabs your wrist with one hand when they fly up to push him away, and hooks fingers of the other hand under the straps of your dress and snaps them with ease. He grabbed you roughly, forcing you to lock your eyes with his fiery gaze; his fingers digging into the meat of your upper arms, making you wince and pull away from his grip.
‘’Do you have any idea how much you owe me, Rory? It adds up to a very pretty, very large sum of money that you simply do not have.’’ Pete snarled, venomous and rattling.
‘’I have it,’’ You pleaded, ‘’It’s at the hotel. You can have it. Just let me go.’’
Pete didn’t answer you. His expression snapped in an instant, switching from a delighted amusement to a cold, hard stare.
He simply whirled you around, pulling your back flush against his chest and bruisingly working his hands against the fabric of your dress to work it down your body until it pooled around your bare ankles. Shakes wracked through your body as a sea formed in your eyes, a devastating storm of hopelessness as an anchor hit the bottom of your gut, rooting you to the mansion floor. Pete turned and shoved you towards where Ari was now on his feet, snapping the band of his boxers against his hips before leaning down to gather his jeans, shaking them out.
Your gaze darted between them as your footsteps faltered, your ankles wanting to give way as Pete began to stalk closer to you again. Your blood turned to ice as he backed you towards the couch. Your eyes darted around the room, seeking an exit; any exit. Instead, you wound up back on the couch, pulling your legs up as Pete loomed over you; his eyes black and vacant.
Ari gave you a passive glance as he lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag as he decided the darkness outside the manor windows was a better view than the debt perched on cold leather.
‘’Here’s how this is going to work, Sugar,’’ Pete says pointedly. ‘’My nephews are going to come through those doors any moment… They’re gonna drop that bag of money you’ve been hiding in that piss-poor hovel of yours at my feet. We’re gonna count it, and we’re gonna calculate the interest–’’
‘’What interest? You have it! You’ll have it–’’
Pete’s hand swung out, and you instinctively curled into yourself, but the blow never came. You peered up to find Ari’s large hand wrapped around Pete’s wrist; not hard enough to cause any damage, but enough to send a message. Your chest heaved as you watched them; it looked like Pete wanted to fight it, but something passed between them– maybe Ari’s size, maybe a respect… You weren't sure. Pete yanked his hand away and let out a defeated huff.
‘’I’ll handle it,’’ Ari claimed, holding up a finger; a warning.
‘’Then handle it,’’ Pete dismissed with a wave of his hand and sulked towards the bar.
Ari took in a deep sigh, finished the last couple of drags of his cigarette, and then planted himself back beside you. He stared into the open space of the living room before dragging a hand down his face, scrubbing at his beard, and taking in a sharp breath before finally looking at you.
‘’Ari, I can’t pay–’’
‘’I know you can’t,’’ Ari cut in. ‘’Which is why you’re going to work it off. Here. With us.’’
Your stomach lurched. ‘’What?’’
‘’There are two options on the table, Sugar,’’ Ari began to explain, monotone and blunt. Option one: You stay here and work on a schedule. Me on Mondays, Curt has Tuesdays, Steve on Wednesdays, Jake on Thursdays, Pete on Fridays, Lloyd on Saturdays.’’ He pauses, letting the words sink into your bones. ‘’Sunday’s… You get to rest.’’
Your vision blurred, ringing overtook your ears, and your chest constricted.
‘’Option two,’’ Ari continues. ‘’We sell you.’’
‘’Sell me?’’ You whisper, eyes wide.
Ari nods. To one of Pete’s clients. The kind of men who don’t ask for permission, the ones who won’t give you a rest day.’’
A sudden rage blooms, courses through your blood, and explodes.
"No." Your voice is sharp, loud, cutting through the room like a whip. "Absolutely fucking not. You're both insane if you think I'm going to—"
"You don't have a choice!" Pete snaps sharply from across the room, glass thudding against the bar, the liquid sloshing violently. ‘’Unless you want me to make a call and have you shipped off and kept in a fucking cage for the rest of your life. Either fucking way, you are paying me back every fucking cent!’’
‘’I earned it!’’ You fired back. ‘’It’s mine, and you can have it! I don’t fucking need to stay here!’’
“Yours? Yours?!” He sneered, his voice a lethal weapon pointed at you from across the vast living room. “Everything in that club is mine. The floor you walk on, the pole you stumble around on, the laps you keep warm— the fucking air you breathe, the drinks you swallow, and most fucking certainly the clients you’ve been stealing from under my fucking nose, Sugar. I fucking own you. You didn’t earn a fucking dime. It was theft. Plain and fucking simple. You used my establishment to run your own little business and thought you could get away with it…” He trailed off to let out a long sigh after his rant, his expression softening a little. “But, lucky for you… I’ve always had a soft spot for a pretty face.”
Pete stalked towards you once again, but this time Ari made no effort to shield you from him. Pete leaned over you, and the leather creaked as he placed his hand on the couch behind your head. The smell of whisky on his breath made your stomach turn, and his voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper that made your skin crawl.
“My family is a very close-knit group, Sugar. We share everything… And since you've spent so long taking from me— from us, it's only fair that you start giving back. So, I think the choice has been made for you.”
‘’No,’’ You said firmly, sucking in a sharp breath as Ari let out a slow breath.
He stared down at you with a look of cold, almost clinical evaluation. He leaned in closer, his presence oppressive and dangerous, the air between you both feeling thick with a threat that had no need to be voiced. He didn’t seem offended by your outburst; if anything, he once again looked thoroughly amused, as if your defiance was nothing more than a puppy daring to bark at a wolf.
“See, that’s the thing about the word “no”, Sugar. In your situation, it has no place in this house. It’s a word you get to use when you don’t have a debt to pay. It’s for guests. You’re not a guest. You’re a piece of property with a very high interest rate.” Pete leaned in closer, his voice dipping to a soft, terrifying purr beside your ear. “I’m a businessman, Sugar. I’m not gonna drag you kicking and screaming by your hair to a bed. No one’s gonna hold you down and make you do a single thing. It’s boring. It’s predictable. It’s what you expect to happen. I prefer incentives.”
Pete stepped back abruptly, arms flaring out to gesture to the opulent surroundings of the manor.
“You can fight it. You can scream, you can refuse, and cry and beg. You can be the brave little pup trapped in a wolf’s den, but every day that you refuse to give us what we want, every moment you make us wait… The higher the interest climbs and the longer you stay.”
You opened your mouth to fight back, plead your case, attempt to find any string of words that could wake you from the grim nightmare you had found yourself in– or rather, been lured into; however, the tension in the room was snapped by the sound of the front doors being opened once again. Dread washed over you as Ari stood and stepped towards the windows and stared down the dim hallway. A second later, Ari let out a small bark of a laugh, and a grin broke out on his face.
“Damn, her leaving you hit you hard,” Ari mocked, playful and light with what seemed like a genuine grin towards the footsteps in the hall. ‘’Look at that fuckin’ bush on your face, man.’’
“Yeah? Look who’s talking, “ The voice responded. It wasn’t as deep as Ari’s, and the man who emerged almost took your breath.
He wasn’t as tall as Ari, although not far off. Dirty blonde hair and a thick beard that put Ari’s to shame a little. He looked as if he’d taken a mental beating or two, eyes wary and shoulders tense. The brown leather jacket clung to his large shoulders, the white tee stretched over his chest, and his large hands clutched car keys; the bend in his arms showing off the power in his arms. Under any other circumstances, just like Ari, you could happily find yourself staring at a man like him all day long. The half-smile on his face fell fast and far once he laid eyes on you, before his face scrunched up in a disgust that made you find the floor more interesting.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” he spat.
“Steve—“ Pete spoke before being abruptly cut off.
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Steve chastised as his feet thundered across the floor.
You instinctively peered up, finding him coming towards you as he stripped off his light brown jacket and quickly laid it around your shoulders, offering a small, tight smile before both of your gazes turned to Ari, who offered nothing but a roll of his eyes.
“Don’t do that,” Ari chuckled shortly, pointing a finger. “You still showed up.”
“You said she’d have a choice,” Steve shot at him, eyes hardening and fist clenching at his side. “Shaking and crying on the couch— naked!” Steve punctuated with a sharp point towards you. “Isn’t a fucking choice!”
“She was given a choice,” Pete dismissed, as if he were referring to you simply picking what to have for dinner. “I’m still waiting to hear what she’s decided.”
“What choice did you give her? Here or there? Us or some sick fuck that’ll turn her out?”
“Better the ones she knows, hmm?” Ari tried to reason.
“Out of your minds,” Steve laughed, hollow and ludicrous, a hand smoothing over his hair as he let out a rough, angered sigh.
“You still showed,” Ari pointed out, parroting his words from before. “Let’s step off the high horse.”
Steve opened his mouth to fire back at Ari, but the sound of the oak doors opening once again drew everyone into a silence until it was broken by two disembodied voices, lazily sharing a conversation as they stepped closer to the living room. One had an impossibly deep gravel to his tone; the other light, almost boyish— like the world hasn’t hit him hard enough just yet.
“When does Lloyd get here?” One asked.
“Saturday,” the other answered bluntly, closing the door and coughing softly. “Hate how this fucking house smells.”
“It is Saturday,” The first one pointed out.
“Next Saturday, numbnuts.”
“You can’t let him near her,” Steve agonized towards Ari, like he almost feared the voice himself.
“I told you telling him was a bad idea,” Ari groaned, letting out an exasperated laugh. “Always gotta act as the sun shines out of your ass. Why the fuck are you here?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Steve fired, eyes blazing and body tense as he pointed out to the hallway where the footsteps drew closer. “To stop him, because you fucking idiots don’t see how fucking unstable—“
“Don’t let who near who?”
It was like another version of Ari had stepped into the room. Instead of the full beard, thick locks, and tanned skin, it was replaced by harsh stubble, a buzz cut, and ink covering every inch. Behind him was a smaller version of Steve, grinning from ear to ear with an almost childish charm as he nodded at his brothers.
“Hi,” The tattooed version of Ari drawled, mouth ticked up in a predatory smirk as his eyes wandered your body, not taking them off you, had he held out the black duffle bag in his hand— the very same that had been hidden under your hotel room— and passed it off to Pete. “I’m Curtis.”
“Great, she can go,” Steve said directly, moving back towards you with a hand held out.
“Go?” Ari scoffed, stepping closer as well.
You looked between them, unsure of your next move. You desperately wanted to take the hand of the only man who saw sense and wanted to take you out of there, while fearing the repercussions of the man who wanted you to stay; the one who you were still trying to piece together in your head.
“You have it, she can go,” Steve replied, looking down at you with a nod towards his outstretched hand.
“Interest, Steve,” Ari pointed out sharply, knocking his hand away from you before you could even lift your own to take Steve’s. “Please tell me that losing her made you lose all your brain cells as well.”
“Are you all done squabbling?” Pete asked them both, only turning back to Curtis when they both stood down and averted their gazes from one another. “How much is in here?” Pete followed up, tugging the straps, letting the bag bounce.
“Take a look for yourself,” Curtis replied, his eyes glued on you.
You held your breath, refusing to be the first one to break as you heard Pete sigh, followed by the sound of the bag thudding against the leather chair and the agonizingly slow sound of the zipper being pulled. Curtis’ eyes lit up when Pete let out an appalled gasp.
“You scheming little brat,” Pete said, dangerous and slow.
“What?” You asked breathlessly, finally losing the battle, as you looked over to where Pete was standing over the open bag, with a horrified expression.
“How much? I want you to tell me how much is in this fucking bag,” Pete said lowly, fists balling up by his side.
“Around thirty thousand, just a little under. I don’t keep—“
“Do not fucking lie to me!” Pete seethed, and within a flash, he was thundering towards you.
You instinctively curled yourself back against the couch; however, Pete didn’t get far because both Steve and Ari shielded you against the couch, making Pete stop dead.
“Sugar. How much is in there?” Ari asked calmly.
“I just told you!” You cried out, hands thumping heavily in your lap as you squeezed your eyes shut to stop a fresh wave of tears from falling. Your fists found the fabric of Steve’s jacket, clutching it tight to your bare skin and sinking back into the leather of the couch.
Ari let out a breath before walking over and peering into the bag himself. He paused for a moment, shook his head, and then hauled the bag up and brought it over to you, opening it wide to show the stacks of bills— more than what you’d ever placed inside them. Your eyes widened as your pulse kicked up speed and your lungs refused to expand the way they should.
“No— This… This isn’t all mine. There’s no way,” You whispered frantically, shaking your head before swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. Your eyes darted between the men occupying the space in front of you. “Please, this isn’t mine,” You whined desperately. “Yes, I was working on the side. Yes, I was doing it with club clients. Yes, I shouldn’t have done it, but I have not made the amount that’s in here. This isn’t all mine.”
“Oh, so the money fairy came and put it in there while you were being screwed by my nephew,” Pete scoffed.
“It’s not mine!” You cried.
“How much do you think?” Pete asked, his attention back on Curtis as if you’d simply ceased to exist.
“Hundred thousand, easy. Want me to count it?” Curtis pointed towards the bag in Ari’s hands.
“Go.” Pete nodded towards another room.
“Ari, please, you have to believe me,” You begged, trying to find some semblance of the man you knew just a few hours before.
“I don’t have to believe anything.” Ari zipped up the bag and passed it off to Curtis, who threw it back over to Pete. “It’s above my pay grade.”
Curtis left the room for a moment, disappearing into a side door and returning with a money counter. You kept your gaze on Ari as the clunk of the machine hitting the table was followed by the whirring of money being funneled through the machine. The room was suffocating, and everyone stood in silence as Curtis loaded stack after stack onto the machine. Your stomach turned as the amount rose higher and higher. Your mind switched channel upon channel, trying to figure out just how a half-empty bag was suddenly bursting at the seams.
Had Pete set it up? Had Ari? Did one of the girls know? Was it a client? Who knew where you stayed? How did this happen?
“One hundred thousand…” Curtis began to read out, and a wave of cold nausea washed over you with every word. “Four hundred and thirty-two dollars.”
Pete whistled, followed it up with a short bark of a laugh, and downed the rest of the liquid in his glass, grimacing and shaking his head.
“Well, hasn’t someone been a busy little lamb, hmm?” Curtis taunted.
“And you said you didn’t fuck ‘em,” Ari scoffed bitterly, turning his nose up at you. “Who’s the liar now?”
“I didn’t—“ You insisted.
“Don’t fucking bullshit me,” Ari shot back.
“Some of them were generous! I didn’t do anything like that!”
“Yeah, bet you were too,” Ari huffed, shaking his head with a tense smile.
“Stop!” Steve barked.
“She good?” Curtis prodded towards Ari with a sick smirk as he began to load the remainder of the cash back into the bag.
“Not bad,” Ari shrugged.
“Talking about me like I’m a toy. I’m right here!” You cracked, fire bubbling out of your throat.
“That’s what you are now,” Curtis scoffed, glancing at his brothers like what you had said was ridiculous. “S’all you are, baby. A shiny new toy for me to break and you’re here for a while, Sugar, a lot of time to find all the ways you can break.”
“I’ll find a way—“ You attempted to plead with Pete. “You have the money, please. I can figure it—“
“Nope! You won’t— You can’t!” Pete cut off dramatically, leaning against the bar and giving you that sick, sly grin. “So, once again, the choice: I can either line up a buyer, hand you over and you can pray to see next month, or you can stay here and work it off by keeping us all company, however we see fit.”
“Be trafficked or be a communal fleshlight— Wow, incredible options she has—“ Steve mocked, shaking his head.
“Why the fuck would you put it like that?” The youngest one laughed, face scrunching up as they paced in front of the fireplace. “That sounds—“
“Wrong?!” Steve thundered, earning dismissive smirks and choked back laughs from his brothers. “Disgusting? Because that’s what this is, Jake!”
“She doesn’t have to do anything,” Ari attempted to sway, laughing it off like Steve was overreacting. “But the longer she doesn’t, the longer she stays and the higher the debt climbs.”
“That isn’t a choice—“ Steve let out a vexed growl, throwing his hands up before he headed towards the hallway, your eyes following his every move with a voice in the back of your head begging him to stay. “Fuck it! I’m done! I’m leaving, I can’t be a part of this—“
“Go ahead,” Pete dismissed. “Oh,” He said sharply, holding up a finger. “But, who’s gonna clean up Curtis’ mess?” Pete pointed out, stopping Steve in his tracks. “That’s why you’re here and everything.”
“See you Tuesday, Sugar,” Curtis drawled provocatively, making your face scrunch up and turn away from the shitshow before you. “Aw, the shy little baby,” Curtis mocked, honeyed and low, making your hands fist up and tremble. “Fucking adorable.”
“He won’t give her a choice,” Steve pleaded to Ari.
“That’s why you’re needed,” Ari stressed, standing and making his way over to Steve, hands on his shoulders, keeping him steady in place. “Your day counts no matter what she does. Fuck her, sing her a lullaby— who fucking cares? That’s the point. It’s up to us how it’s paid, and if she refuses then… Guess she’s got another day of the week to make it up—“
“What day is mine?” Jake piped up.
“Thursday,” Pete replied.
“Cool. I’ll leave you all to argue,” Jake said coolly, as if he’d simply asked when dinner was going to be ready and didn’t spare you a second glance as he made his way around the back of the couch and his footsteps faded with each step on the stairs.
“What’s the total with interest?” Ari asked, turning his attention to Pete.
Pete pondered for a moment, lips twitching from side to side as he calculated the sum in his head.
“Half a mil,” Pete said simply, turning to you with a cold glint in his eyes and a mocking smile. “Maybe just a little under.”
“And per shift?” Ari quizzed.
“Waiting for Lloyd to get back to me,” Pete answered. “But, I think it’s based on what you think she’s earned. He’s just gonna put a cap on it. She hasn’t actually decided yet what she’s doing.”
“What’s it gonna be, Sugar?” Curtis piped up. “Sold or stay?”
“You have the money,” You protested with a whine, letting out a huff and twisting your face up as you planted your feet against the floor and leaped up off the couch. Steve’s jacket grazed your mid-thigh as you clutched it closed against your chest. “I’m not staying here,” You bit out, eyes blazing and staring Pete dead in the eye. “I’m not being sold. I’m not being passed around. I’m not doing any of this. You can all go fuck yourselves.”
Pete’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes— amusement, maybe; perhaps interest, you weren’t sure, but you were sure of the fact you weren't staying with him for any longer than you needed to. You needed to find a way out– quickly.
“Brave,” Pete mused softly as he stepped closer to you. “Stupid, but brave. It’s a shame brave won’t serve you well here, Sugar. Submission? That’ll get you really far.”
"And just so we're clear," Pete adds, leaning in close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath, "the longer you fight this, the longer you stay. Every time you refuse, every time you make this difficult, you add time to your debt. It could be weeks. It could be months. It could be years. Up to you."
"Then I'll fight for years," you snarl. "I'm not doing this."
‘’She’s a fiery one,’’ Curtis laughed, a low, ugly sound. ‘’I like that. You’ll be more fun to break, Sugar.’’
‘’Take her upstairs,’’ Pete ordered Ari. ‘’Get her settled. You’ll like your room, Sugar. A helluva’ lot better than that hole you slept in.’’
‘’I’m not fucking staying here!’’ You cried out.
‘’You can get up, or I can get you up,’’ Ari said darkly, towering over you from the side of the couch, hands at the ready.
“You heard your man, Sugar. The choice is yours. You can walk out of here on your own two feet, or he can carry you out kicking and screaming.”
Pete stood aside and let Ari take his place, looming over you, his large shoulders blocking the view of the vast living room. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at you, with an expression that made your heart sink. He was actually enjoying this. He liked you trembling, cold, and scared. Ari’s hands flexed at his side, head tilted as he waited, just waited… as if he was waiting for the moment the reality of the situation burned out the fire inside of you and you were left with nothing but a crushed spirit— or, for the sick thrill he’d get hauling you, wailing, up the manor stairs and into the dark.
“Ari, please,” You whispered. “Just tell me this is a joke.”
“Why would we joke about this?” Ari’s voice was flat, devoid of empathy or regret.
He didn’t even blink; he just looked at you as if you weren’t a woman, but as an object that had been successfully delivered to its rightful owners. The silence that followed his words was a desolate suffocation, punctuated by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the manor. The betrayal was absolute. The man who you thought had seen you as you saw him was now looking at you as nothing more than a dollar sign.
‘’I thought…’’ Your voice wavered as you spoke. ‘’Oh, fuck.’’
“Oh, look at that,” Pete drawled, his voice dropping to a mocking cop. “You’ve broken her heart, Ari.” He let out a soft, sharp titter. “It’s a shame, really. Maybe we’re on the way to losing that spark that would’ve been so fun to snuff out of you.”
“I’d get all those pretty tears out now, Sugar… Before Lloyd gets home,” Curtis spoke, an ominous ring to his comment.
“Plus, tears don’t pay off the debt. Neither does disappointment,” Pete added.
“Well, there’ll be a good payment for Lloyd. He loves it when they cry,” Ari shrugged, his voice devoid of any warmth.
The comment was delivered with such a casual indifference that it felt more like a physical blow. Ari wasn’t just betraying you; he was willing to hand you over to someone who sounded far worse than himself, Pete— even Curtis. You prayed silently to never meet the man behind the name, but you knew it was feeble, inevitable. Ari gestured to stand with a crook of his neck, acting as the gatekeeper to a grim future you couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Ari stepped back just an inch as you hesitantly braced yourself to stand, his gaze remained fixed on you; expectant and patience waning. The luxury of the manor—the fire, the velvet of the curtains, the ornate rugs, and the expensive leather — felt more like a gilded cage. Every extra second you spent hesitating felt like a gamble with a debt that was already spiraling out of your control.
“How could you do this?” You whispered as you looked up at him.
“I’m a professional,” Ari offered, his gaze cold and his voice flat.
“You’re an asshole,” You corrected.
Ari didn’t flinch, didn’t show any offense; no malice, no amusement. The man who had just been whispering filth in your ear and pulling you into his chest was gone, replaced by a cruel stranger who looked at you as if you were nothing more than a piece of furniture he was getting ready to move. He shifted his weight with a heavy sigh, crossed his massive arms over his chest, biceps flexing as he created a wall of muscle that felt absolute, impenetrable. “You were a job,” Ari informed. “A way to bring you in without causing a scene, to stop you running. Please don’t mistake a few weeks of scattered pleasure for a friendship, a relationship. We don’t do that here. It doesn’t work. I’m getting tired, and you need to move.”
You let out a shaky sob, fingers flexing against the leather seat, and before you could even attempt to move yourself, Ari’s patience snapped. Hands grab you, rough and bruising, and you explode into motion. With a cry, you twisted and kicked in his grip as he spun you and hauled you up against his chest. You kicked into the open space as Ari began to walk you towards the stairs. You clawed at his forearms, nails raking across the skin, pebbles of red blooming in their wake, causing him to swear viciously.
“Fucking bitch—“
You screamed; a raw, primal sound, a sound torn from somewhere deep in your chest, pulled from the depths of your soul. You thrashed against his grip, bare feet kicking at his shins, hands slapping the meat of his arms. You fought with everything you had, but it’s no use. His grip tightened as he took the first step. You crane your head back, and your eyes lock with Steve’s. His face was pale, a hopeless worry creased into his forehead, his hands clenched tightly at his side; it looked like he could be sick, but he made no attempt to help you.
No one came to help you.
“Let me go! Let me fucking go!” You screamed.
Ari’s fingers dug into your side with enough pressure to leave bruises. You planted your feet against a higher step, attempting to anchor yourself to the cold marble slabs as you twisted your head, teeth gunning for his arms, but he jerked you sharply with a snarl.
“Fuck you!” You wailed, thrashing harder. “Fuck all of you!”
“Stop fucking fighting.” His voice was an eerie calm. “You’re only gonna make it worse.”
With a grunt of effort, Ari lifted you higher, your feet dangled in the air as you were manhandled up the rest of the stairs. You didn’t stop fighting. With each agonizing step, you screamed until your throat was raw, kicked until your legs ached, twisted your body until your muscles burned; screamed, cried, and wailed out every curse your tongue had memorized, but it’s no use. By the time you reached the second floor, you were gasping for breath, your body trembled with exhaustion and fury.
You were carried through the dark of the hallway, portraits watched you with judgmental eyes, and a row of doors taunted you as you passed each one. Ari didn’t say another word through your continued struggle, each moment making your bones scream, and your lungs beg for mercy. The silence from him was a wall, unclimbable; inescapable.
He stopped at the end of the hall, double doors towering above you both. He managed to keep a tight grip on you as he reached for the handles and pushed them open, revealing a bedroom that was staggeringly opulent. A luxurious space with a massive canopy bed with silk sheets, detailed dressers, ornate chairs, and gold accents peppered around the room. Any other time, the sight would’ve been welcomed, but the sight made you sick. He kicked the doors closed behind you with a loud thud and dropped you to the floor.
“Jacket,” He ordered with a snap of his finger and a held-out hand.
You clutched it tight around you as you scrambled to your feet and put as much distance between you both as you could; Ari was left standing at the door while you shrank yourself into the shadows of the towering windows.
“Steve gave it to me,” You sniffled. “How could you do this to me? You can’t do this to me!”
“I can, and I am,” He replied, an exasperated huff expelling from his chest, as if dealing with you was a chore he’d rather forget.
“You liked me, you did… I know you did.”
“No, I didn’t,” He said with a grim smile. “I like obedience. Give me the jacket, Sugar.”
“No!” You cried. “Fuck you! We had something, we were going to have something, you know it!”
A flicker of boredom flashes across Ari’s eyes. He made no attempt to move; he simply watched you with a detached curiosity, as if you were attempting to explain a concept that sounded deranged and tedious. The massive scale of his frame seemed to shrink the room around you as you waited for him to break his slice, like he was the only thing your mind could focus on. He didn’t look at you with hatred, that would’ve required an emotion he wasn’t willing to spare, but you had a clawing need to drag it out of him anyway.
He shifted his weight, the fabric of his shirt straining against the same shoulders you had clung to hours before. The silence, however, was broken, but not by Ari, but by the boisterous laughter of the family in the den below; a muffled reminder that your life had been meticulously, and maliciously partitioned into days of the week.
“Why are you all like this?” You whispered.
“Like what?” Ari challenged, his expression remaining flat.
It seemed like, to Ari, that the question seemed entirely illogical, as if you were asking why the rain was wet or why a predator hunted its prey. There was no guilt, no empathy, nothing in his eyes; no flicker of regret for the way he had used your body to bridge the gap between your trust and your capture.
“Twisted,” You spat. “Wrong.”
He took slow, calculated steps forward, his feet padding against the thick, piled carpet, the distance between you closing at an agonizing pace. His shadow swallowed you whole as you backed into the wall between the windows, trapped in the darkness. He didn’t touch you, but the heat radiating from him was palpable, a warning of the strength he could use to crush you if he ever decided to stop being patient.
‘’The world is twisted, Sugar. It’s how it works. We just know how to navigate the curves. You take what you can, and when you can’t take anymore… You pay the price. You thought you were playing a game with the house, and the house always wins, baby. That’s not twisted, it’s not wrong… It’s just math.’’ Ari paused for a moment, his eyes landed on your trembling lips as his words twisted around your throat, something flickered in his expression– not pity, but perhaps the ghost of a memory, something human– before the stone mask slammed back down. ‘’Now, give me the jacket.’’
‘’No, you said firmly.
‘’Sugar–’’
‘’If it's okay for you to take, why can't I?’’
Ari’s eyes narrowed slightly, a genuine amusement finding its way into them as he let out a short, dry huff of a laugh, though his face remained devoid of any real humor.
‘’Because you’re weak,’’ Ari answered. ‘’You thought you were playing the game. You thought you were clever, stealing pennies from a mountain. You thought you could get away with it. We know we can.’’
Your bottom lip trembled as Ari brought up a hand to cup your cheek.
“Now, stop trying to argue. I don’t know what gave you the idea that you’re even in a position to object, because the only position you’re in right now…” Ari trailed off, sliding a hand to the nape of your neck and then suddenly sliding it up to seize a sharp handful of your hair by your crown. “Is to obey.”
He gave a quick tug, forcing you closer to him; the sounds of your cries fell on deaf ears.
‘’You think I get to say ‘no’? ‘Sorry, Pete. Sorry, Lloyd, I don’t feel like doing that shit today, I’d rather go and… Bask in the sunshine, or whatever the fuck normal people do? We’re all stuck, Sugar, just some more than others. Get used to it.” His eyes shifted from yours to the leather that encased your frame. “Jacket. Off. I’m not asking again, and I’m really starting to lose my patience.”
The sounds of the ruffling leather were loud in the grim silence of the room. The clink of the zipper and the shaky breaths mixed together in a symphony of misery. Your fingers shook violently as you pulled the jacket sleeves and slipped it off your shoulders, exposing the pale, wavering skin that Ari had fraudulently worshipped.
It was only when you stood bare, completely exposed, your vulnerability stark against the backdrop of the room's calculated luxury, and held out the jacket in the space between you both that Ari released the harsh grip on your hair and snatched the jacket from your hands.
His gaze scanned your body with a cold, professional detachment; almost as if he was inspecting a new piece of inventory. He made no move to touch you, nor did his eyes show any sign of the hunger that had once pooled there. He wasn’t looking at you for pleasure; he was ensuring the total erasure of your old life. You tried to cover yourself under his intense stare, boredom settling in the deep blues, as if modesty to him wasn’t a virtue or a boundary; it was inefficiency. A delay in the process that the men of the manor had set forth.
Ari reached out, large fingers gripping your wrist and pulling it from your body; firm and capable, his voice dropping to a low rumble.
“You don’t have a right to privacy anymore, Sugar. Everything you are, every inch of this skin, belongs to the house now.”
Ari shoved your arm back at you before turning, jacket clutched in his hand along with the rest of your dignity, and walked towards the doors. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the handle, and with a beep, the lock clicked. You stared after him, unable to move as he opened the door. He paused for a moment, his silhouette blotting out the light from the corridor, and then looked back at you— naked, shivering, and wide-eyed.
The dynamic between you both had shifted completely; no longer potential lovers, but a stripped-down object at the mercy of its master.
“Get in the bed. Stay there. Someone will bring you breakfast in the morning.”
“As long as it’s not you,” You threw at him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I won’t ever sleep with you again. I hope you know that. I’ll go to each one of them, but never, ever you.”
Ari’s hand freezes on the handle of the door. You can see the slight tension pull tight across his back and pinch at his jaw. The silence that enveloped you afterward was heavy, stretching out until the only sound was your own frantic heartbeat. The air thickened, and for the first time since you’d learned your fate, Ari’s composure cracked. He doesn’t turn, but his hand grips the handle of the door tightly, and a rumble, almost a growl, settles deep in his chest.
“Fine by me,” Ari spat back at you.
Then he stepped over the threshold, and without a second glance, he slammed the door shut, and the lock clicked.
For a moment, you just stood there; chest heaving, hands shaking, quick shuddering breaths before a white-hot fire ran through your veins, which made you lunge at the doors, slamming your fists against the wood.
“Ari! Let me out! You can’t do this! Let me the fuck out.”
You pounded until your hands ached, until your knuckles were raw and droplets of blood mocked your feeble attempt. You screamed until your voice cracked, until your throat felt like you had swallowed glass. You kicked, threw your weight, and pried at the seam, but it didn’t budge. You moved to the window next; the grounds were lit by scattered lampposts, intricate and dim. The round driveway beckoned you, the gates in the distance called your name, and the trees in the small woodland waved you over.
Freedom was right there, so close that you could almost taste it.
You didn’t bother trying the handles; instead, you grabbed the edge of the window frame and pulled, trying to pull it open from the hinges, but the nails didn't budge. You let out a growl as your hands slapped your bare sides before your eyes darted around the room searching for something— anything— to use as a lever. You moved quickly, pulling open drawers, looking under furniture, and finding bolts to keep them secured to the floor.
You grabbed a small wooden chair by the vanity, ignoring the panicked woman in the reflection, and moved to swing it at the window. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, but the glass remained intact; the reinforced glass wobbling as a middle finger to your efforts. You swung again, and again, and again. Until your arms were shaking and the chair legs cut into your hands.
You drop the chair, depleted, and sink to the floor, hiding in the shadows once again. You backed against the wall, the cool brick sending a shiver through you as you pulled your knees to your chest. Your whole body was trembling— rage, fear, exhaustion crashing over you in a series of waves that threatened to pull you under.
But you’re not done. Just resting. You’ll figure it out… You have to figure it out.
You let your forehead rest on your knees, taking a few deep breaths and exhaling slowly. When you bring your head back up to find your next plan, you spot two divots in the light that shines through under the door. You stared for a moment until you saw the shadows shuffle, and you sprang into action, practically flying across the room and slamming your hand against the wood of the double doors.
“Ari?!” You called out, pausing to press your ear against the door. “Ari, is that you?! Please, I’m sorry, please open the door!”
You waited for a response, but got nothing.
“Ari, please, please listen—“ You hesitated, pressing your ear against the door again, and listening closely. The shoes shuffle against the carpet, but not like Ari’s would. Ari’s heavy boots, his feet, crushed the piles under the sheer weight he carried; this was lighter, more careful…
It had to be Steve.
“Steve?” You asked softly, “Is that you? Please let me out. You know this is wrong, please, please, Steve, please.”
You hear him beyond the wood, a deep breath and a long exhale. You wait, and you hope, but nothing comes.
No words.
No movement from the handle.
No click.
No light.
Nothing.
“Steve!” You shout, slamming your hand against the door. “Open the door!”
But he doesn’t. He just stands there for a few more seconds, and then the shadows from his footsteps retreat from the light and leave you alone in the dark.
The morning came slowly.
Light filtered through the tall windows, casting amber and pink along the cream carpet. You hadn’t moved from the space between, back against the wall, arms hugged around your bare legs. Each time you closed your eyes, you saw Pete’s face, heard Curtis’s voice, and felt the vacant stare of Ari. Sleep wasn’t an option, and not something you wanted anyway.
The door’s lock clicking open rang out like someone pulling a pin from a grenade, and when it opened, Jake appeared. He was carrying a tray—eggs, toast, orange juice—and set it down on the dresser with a smile that made your skin crawl. His eyes were downcast on the tray as he ensured he settled it correctly before dusting his hands.
He was dressed in grey sweats and a black shirt that stretched across his frame. He wasn’t as big as the others, sure, but nothing to scoff at. His blond hair was tussled from sleep, and mismatched socks padded towards you.
“Morning,” Jake chirped brightly, like the morning routine was perfectly normal to him. “Thought you might be hungry…” He trailed off, and his face fell slightly as he finally laid eyes on you. “You know there’s clothes in here, right?”
You make no attempt to reply, no muscle twitches to move, your face set in stone, and your eyes boring into his.
“Come on,” He attempted to coax, waving a hand to get you to stand. “Let’s find something for you to wear, and then you need to eat.”
“Get. Out,” You bite out, voice hoarse from the screaming.
Jake’s smile fell slightly, but his tone didn’t “You should really—“
“I said get out.”
He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes didn’t harden the way Ari’s would’ve, he didn’t make a move to pull you off the floor; he simply shrugged and turned to walk back towards the door.
“Suit yourself,” He said calmly and left.
You sat there, eyes glued to the wood grain, and let out a long breath. You made no move to grab the tray. Not out of fear— out of defiance. The only power you had left was to refuse whatever they brought through that door, and you were going to use it until you couldn’t anymore.
The morning dragged on.
Muffled footsteps came and went, voices drifted from the rooms surrounding, you’d hear the occasional slamming of the door, and piece by piece you were gathering together the rhythms of the house— who’s where, when, and how often. Pete was downstairs most of the time, choosing to waste his day in the living room. Curtis and Ari came and went, taking it in turns to call out to each other to hurry up and Steve… Steve was harder to track, quieter, almost as if he was hiding.
Sleep was pulling at your eyelids, settling heavy in your bones. Your eyes fell on the silk sheets, and you let out a groan as you pushed yourself up from the floor. You walked to the dresser and found neat stacks of soft shirts and shorts, and picked the first set, slipping them on before trudging over to the bed. You pulled back the sheets and climbed in before lying down, facing the door.
You told yourself that you’d just have a rest, ten minutes, but a few hours later, the sun was setting heavy in the sky, and you awoke to the sound of the lock disengaging and the door swinging open. Your eyes slowly peeled open, and you found Jake, once again, standing in the doorway, with that wide, beaming smile and another tray of food in his hands.
“Oh! “Shit,” he cursed apologetically, “Were you sleeping?” I’m so sorry.”
He stepped further into the room, letting the door swing shut, and brought over the tray, pausing at the edge of the bed. His expression was open and friendly, which only made the whole situation feel more surreal and terrifying. He set the tray on the nightstand and looked down at you, and a grin of surprise set on his lips.
“And you’re dressed! Do you feel better? Is the bed comfy?”
Jake didn’t seem to possess the malice of the other men, or he was just more inclined to keep it well hidden. You shuffled yourself up, leaning back against the headboard as you simply stared at him, only giving a quick glance at the cup of steaming coffee on the tray. He grabbed the cup as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He held out the mug and gave you a small smile as you cautiously took it from him.
As you took a sip, he reached out, and you flinched back, earning a tut and a shake of his head as he ignored the action and flicked away a stray hair from your tear-stained cheek, catching the scent of citrus and expensive soap stuck to his skin as he tucked it behind your ear gently.
“You really need to eat, or Pete’s gonna come in here, and neither of us wants that, right?” Jake attempted to appeal as he leaned to pluck up the plate of pastries and place them on your lap. “I made sure they got the almond croissants; they’re stupidly good. I’d eat the whole box if Lloyd let me.”
Jake’s demeanor was an unsettling contrast to the horrors of the previous night. His eyes didn’t possess the predatory hunger of Pete’s, the manic intensity of Curtis’, or the coldness of Ari’s, but as he watched you, his gaze didn’t stop at your face. It drifted down slowly, lingering on the band in your shorts and the way the shirt clung to your frame. The kindness was there, but it was wrapped in the same possessive entitlement as the rest of the family.
“Can you stop staring before I lose my appetite, before I even get the chance to have one in the first place?”
Jake blinked, paused, and then let out a loud, delighted laugh, leaning back slightly with his hands raised.
“There she is!” He grinned. “I was wondering when some of that fire would come back. Welcome home, Sugar!”
Jake didn’t look offended, far from it. The snap of your tone acted like a spark, bringing a glimmer of genuine amusement to his expression. He didn’t rush to calm his gaze or apologize, though; instead, he looked at you with a renewed curiosity, as if you’d just performed a clever trick. It seemed as though, at least to Jake, that the more stubborn aspects of your personality, your defiance, weren’t just a boundary— it was entertainment.
“Sorry, Sugar,” he apologized sweetly, light and playful, as you reached for a pastry and inspected it. “It’s just… You’re really something. Most girls are just shaking and crying by the time they wake up here. You’ve still got a little bite to you. I really like that.”
Your head snapped up.
“Most girls?” You questioned. “As in… You’ve done this before?”
Jake’s smile didn’t waver, not even for a second, as he shrugged with a casual ease.
“Well, yeah?” He laughed. “You don’t pick up a new hobby like this overnight, right? Now, come on, you really need to eat.”
“I will— I just can’t right now.” You dropped the pastry back onto the plate and stared at his smile. “So, I’m not the first to stay here?”
“To stay?” He confirmed your questioning. “Yeah, like to actually stay, and be with us, but the girls who pissed Pete off tend to spend a night or two before whoever picks them up. Curt or Ari would give them a taste of what they’re in for, though—“
“Oh my God,” You groaned as your stomach lurched.
Jake’s admissions were delivered with a lightness that was bone-chilling. He revealed family secrets, their sordid activities, as if he were talking about nothing more than a mundane family tradition, like Sunday dinners or holiday gatherings. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in the voice, no hesitation. It seemed like, at least to him, that the cycle of bringing in women to the manor, stripping them of their lives and using them to pay off fabricated— or real— debts was simply the way the world functioned and you couldn’t help but hear Ari’s words from the night before, providing his notion about how this is how the world is was a shared delusion to all of them.
“Hey, Ari’s only following orders,” Jake attempted to fix. “He hasn’t done that in a long time, " he said. He was supposed to bring you in straight away and didn’t— Do you need me to grab the trash can?”
You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat before chasing it with the hot coffee.
“Why didn’t he?” You asked. “Bring me in right away?”
“Guess he liked you,” Jake replied, and you got the sense that Jake’s honesty got him in trouble a lot. “Said you were different. I just thought his head was like, all messed up from the divorce, but nope. Here you are, and he was right.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Jake got there quicker.
“Hey, what did you say to Ari last night? He’s been in a mood all morning—“
“I want Steve,” You cut in.
“Is that what you said to him?”
“No, Jake,” You sighed as you pitched the bridge of your nose. “I want you to go and get Steve.”
“Oh,” Jake replied, sounding slightly wounded. His face fell slightly, and he nodded slowly as he got to his feet. “Yeah, sure, okay, I’ll… I’ll go do that.”
Without another word, he left. He closed the door firmly behind him, and the lock immediately engaged with a definitive click. The room fell silent again, save for the faint sounds of Jake’s retreating footsteps in the hall. You placed the plate and mug back onto the tray and smoothed down the sheets whilst staring at the door. You sat there for a while, waiting for the lock to click open again, but nothing— no one— came.
You sighed, threw back the covers, and crossed the room quickly. Your hand closed around the cold metal of the door handle. You twisted and pulled, but it still doesn’t budge. The lock held a firm, silent, unyielding reminder of your captivity.
You were well and truly sealed in. No matter how much you tried to be anything else.
You pressed your ear against the cool wood, straining to hear, but there was nothing but the heavy silence of the manor. Not footsteps, no voices, no slamming of the doors. You turned and placed your back against the wood and stared out the window, watching as the afternoon light set in. You stayed there, watching the trees and passing cars in the distance, until the sound of footsteps traveled up the hall.
The footsteps, cautious and familiar, paused just outside your door, and for a moment, you thought they’d disappear again; instead, a soft, hesitant knock followed. The sound was so surreal in a house of men that had shown in the short time you’d spent there that they’d found no need to knock. You edged away from the door, stepping back slightly as the lock clicked and the door cracked open gently.
Steve stepped into the room, eyes widening at the sight of you standing there, before what seemed like guilt settled heavily in the sea-blues of his eyes. He was dressed in simple, dark trousers and a soft grey sweater, his face etched with genuine concern, and he had shaved, which made him look years younger. His posture was slightly slumped as he closed the door and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking less like the usual predators that lurked in the doorway and more like a man who had been sent to clean up a mess he felt guilty about.
“Jake said you asked for me,” Steve said, voice soft and gentle. “I know apologies must mean nothing to you right now, but I am… I am so sorry. I tried to talk them out of it, but when Pete and Lloyd make a decision, they follow. No questions, no push back. I’m so sorry.”
Steve looked around the room, his eyes falling on the full trays.
“Have you eaten?” He asked. You shook your head, and he sighed. “You’ve had a really long night. You should try to eat something.”
He took another steady step forward, his eyes searching yours. He looked genuinely pained by your obvious fear, his brow furrowed with concern. He was a stark contrast to the brutal honesty of Ari, the upbeat chipper of Jake, and the cold calculation of Pete. He stood there, watching, waiting, his shoulders relaxing slightly as you nodded and moved towards the bed, and relief washed over his face as you took a small bite of the pastry.
Steve shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor for a second before he looked back at you.
“You shaved,” You stated, really looking at him as you pulled a piece away from the pastry. “You look better without it.”
He gave a shy smile and a small nod.
“I know you hate all of us right now,” He shared quietly. “And you’ve every right in the world to, but… I want you to know that not everything here has to be a fight.”
“How can it not be?” You challenged.
Steve’s shoulders tense again, the weight of your question seeming to push down on him. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, a gesture that looked tired, almost defeated.
“What am I supposed to do? Just let you all use me?” You fired at him.
“Hey, I have no intention—“
“Would you do that? Would you just accept it? Well, I guess I have the answer to that, considering you're the ones whose finger works on that damn lock. And I'm the one stuck in the room.”
You threw the pastry back onto the plate and sat yourself down on the edge of the bed as Steve flinched, as if you’d struck him. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, unable to hold your gaze. The quiet of the manor felt louder now, pressing down on both of you. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing before he looked at you again. His voice was low and strained as he spoke.
“You think I like being the one who facilitates this? You think I enjoy this?” He gestured vaguely around the room, his hand trembling, eyes shadowed with a conflict you had seen the others possess. “I don’t like this, Sugar. I didn’t want this for you.”
“Then help me leave.”
Steve’s expression tightened, a war playing out behind his eyes. His gaze shifted between you and the locked door, his face a mask of conflicted agony, and you wondered if, and when, the kindness he showed was fragile. He shook his head, took a half step back as if physically recoiling from your plea.
“I... I owe them. Just like you. I can't just.. let you go. It's not my place to do so.” His voice was barely above a whisper, strained and heavy.
He looked down at his hands, his expression hardening further with a resolve that seemed to cost him something. “Look, Sugar,” He sighed heavily. “I know none of this is fair, but if you just… Cooperate, it’ll be easier. I'll make sure your time with me is easy; I’ll take care of you. If you wanna stay in here on Wednesdays and not see me at all, we can do that. I can offer you space, but that’s about it. At least, for right now.”
“I don't wanna be here. I didn't... Not all of that money was mine. You have to believe me,” You plead.
His face softened, giving a small nod, but it’s a sad, weary kind of softness.
“I believe you, Sugar, I do. But it doesn’t matter. If Pete believes it, then that’s the only truth that counts here. The numbers are whatever he says they are. Arguing about it will only make Pete and Lloyd dig their heels in deeper.” He stepped closer to you, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, intense and pleading. “Please, just… let me... let me try to make your time with me as painless as I can. That's the only power I have right now.”
Steve held your gaze for a long moment, and you searched his eyes for a shred of trust to hold on to; a hopeful solace in a house of horrors.
“Just give me some time to figure the rest out, okay?”
He said the last part with a grimace, as if the advice left a sour taste in his mouth. He looked down at his hands and then back at you, his face twisted with a mixture of guilt and a desperate need for you to understand the precariousness of your situation.
“Ari and Jake... they won't force you into anything you don't wanna do. Not really. Curtis and Lloyd... you're best just playing along with them. I know it'll be hard, but it'll keep you safe. And with Pete... he sighs, rubbing his temples, just grit your teeth and bear it. It'll be over quicker. It's easier to do than the others. Just get through it, the best you can.”
He looked at you with a pleading in his eyes, begging you to absorb his words, to understand that it was the only lifeline he could offer. The weight of his own powerlessness seemed to settle on him, making him appear older than his years; the youth that you had found on his face when he first came in seemed to vanish.
“Someone…” You started, hesitating for a moment. “Someone was outside my door last night. After Ari left. Was it you?”
His expression became unreadable for a moment, flickers of emotions scattering across his features until he settled into a weary resignation. The silence stretches, thick with anticipation.
“Last night?” He asked, voice low and cautious, before he shook his head. “No, Sugar, it wasn’t me. Maybe Ari felt bad—“
“It wasn’t Ari.”
“Pete, maybe,” He offered, scuffing a hand through the back of his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck. “He probably did the rounds, made sure the door was locked.”
He said the last words with a clear distaste, his jaw tightening, the muscle jumping under the skin. The admission hung heavy in the air, confirming your fears that your privacy here was simply an illusion, that you were constantly being watched.
“Definitely wasn’t Pete. No one tried the handle. They just stood there.”
“I don’t know then.” His eyes scanned your face, seeming to be choosing his next words carefully, almost weighing them. “Why don’t you—“
“I’ve been through so much shit in not even twenty-four hours. Please don’t lie to me,” You attempted to appeal.
The causal weariness dropped from his posture, replaced by a sudden sharp tension. His eyes darted from the door and then back to you before landing on the floor. You caught a flicker of alarm in his deep blues. He took in a slow breath, as if steadying himself.
The air in the room seemed to grow colder. Steve lifted his head, and his gaze had intensified; the previous softness had hardened into something more guarded. He studied you, as if reassessing you entirely. The fact that you could distinguish the footfalls of the various predators of the manor marked you as more observant, more attuned to your environment than he had perhaps presumed.
“You heard me screaming... And did nothing. And you come in here, being nice and giving me advice, and you do nothing to help me. When you had the opportunity to do so, and then you lied to me after spewing bullshit about wanting this to be painless.”
The accusation hung heavy in the air, sharp and absolute. Steve didn’t flinch, but the color drained from his face. The carefully constructed mask seemed to shatter, leaving behind the raw truth. For the first time, there’s no apology in his eyes; only a bleak, chilling acknowledgment.
His voice was flat, stripped of all pretense.
“You’re right.”
He made no attempt to justify it. He didn’t look away. He stood there, accepting the weight of your words, and the silence that followed was heavier than any that had come before, filled with the unspoken horror of what his inaction meant. He took a slight step backward, rocking slightly on his feet.
“I heard you, and I did nothing,” He admitted sullenly. “Because helping you was the one thing that could’ve gotten you hurt more… Worse, even. They wouldn’t have taken that out on me… It would’ve been you, and I won’t be the reason, I won’t give them a reason, for you to be hurt. I will not do it. You need to trust me, as hard as that will be, and trust that I want to help.”
You ponder for a moment, unable to find any more lies in his eyes. The longer you look at him, the more you wonder how a man like Steve could end up in a family like this, how a seemingly gentle soul wound up in a den of wolves. You relent, giving a small nod, needing to find something— someone— to hold on to in order to keep yourself sane, and Steve seemed to be the safest option next to Jake.
“Alright,” You agreed.
“Is there anything I can do? Get for you?”
You shook your head despite your stomach growling, protesting the lack of food in your system. It must have been loud because Steve’s eyebrow ticked up and he offered a small, knowing smile.
“I’ll grab you something light. I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, looked around the room, eyes falling on a small table by the window, and opted to take a seat, leaning back in your chair as Steve left. The afternoon light was slowly beginning to fade, casting long shadows across the carpet, the breeze outside picking up, causing the trees to sway; birds danced in the sky, and you envied their wings, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Steve envied them too.
It wasn’t long before he returned, a bowl balanced in his palm on top of a cloth, steam rising and releasing a rich, savory scent of soup. He walked over and placed the bowl carefully in front of you, revealing a simple, clear broth with a few pieces of chicken and vegetables. It looks plain, simple— honest. He reached into his back pocket to present and offer a spoon.
“Hopefully, this will be easier on your stomach. Eat what you can, and then I’ll find you something else later— Well, if you want,” Steve offered, tone light.
He stood back, hands hiding in his pockets again, and watched you with an expression that read as a mix of guilt and a grim sense of family duty.
“Thanks.” You smiled and took the spoon, sipping a little; the soup was surprisingly comforting.
Steve pulled out the chair across from you, the very same one you had attempted to break the window with, and sat down heavily, his gaze drifting out of the window to the manicured grounds below. For a long moment, neither of you spoke; the only sound was the mixture of your breaths and the clink of the spoon against the bowl.
“Jake said Ari was married.”
Steve’s gaze snapped back from the window and fell on you, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He seemed thrown by the sudden breaking of the silence and the shift in conversation, especially by your chosen subject. He leaned back in his chair, a conflict pulling at his brows as if he was weighing how much he wanted, or could, share.
“Yeah,” He answered, letting out a slow breath. “He was. For a few years. His wife… She left, took the kid with her.” He looked down at his hands, folded on the table. His voice was low and tinged with something that didn’t seem like sympathy, more like a general weariness with the family’s dramas. “It’s part of why he’s… Well, why is he the way he is now? Closed off. He thinks he can’t trust anyone anymore. Thinks caring about someone just gives them a weapon to use against you later. Fails to see the part he played in it all.”
Steve nodded to himself, his eyes stuck on his hands. The admission hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t quite find the words to reply as he shared a rare moment of candidness about the family’s grip on its members; the fading light cast long shadows across his face, emphasizing the lines of tension there.
“She wanted him out,” he continued to share. “To leave this all behind, but… I guess he was in too deep. I think we probably all are.”
He finally looked up at you, his blue eyes holding yours with a stark, unvarnished honesty, showing he was just a man who acknowledged he was trapped in the same cage you were.
“So, I take it that the club and trafficking girls is only the tip of the iceberg…” You attempted to pry.
Steve’s whole body seemed to tighten as he glanced around the room, as if checking for peering eyes and perked up ears. He rubbed at the back of his neck before his voice dropped quietly.
“The clubs the public face. Almost legitimate. Everything else happens elsewhere.”
“Everything else?” You probed, scooping up another spoonful of soup.
“If you can think of it, we’re in it,” Steve answered ambiguously. “If there’s a way to make a dirty dollar, we’ve got a hand in it. Pete’s Place is just… The prettiest part of the machine. Don’t ask me anything else, and don’t you even think about asking any of them, or you’ll really end up stuck here.”
Steve looked as if he had already shared too much; his shoulders tensed as he tried to lean back as far as the chair would allow, putting distance between you both. The brief moment of shared confidence was over.
“You don’t seem the type,” You said. “To do such things.”
Steve gave a small, wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked down at his hands, turning them over as if inspecting them for stains.
“I’m not,” He said quietly. “Not really. I— I have… I have a knack for finding things. I guess. Information, mostly. People, sometimes… but, my hands tend to stay… relatively clean.”
He let out a breath, his smile fading. His eyes drifted back to the window, the gold light of the fading daylight bled into the blue.
“Were you following me?” You asked bluntly, dropping the spoon into the bowl. “Is that how they knew?”
The question hung heavy in the air, sharp and direct. Steve’s posture seemed stiffened immediately, and for a moment, it didn’t look like he was going to acknowledge your questions, but he eventually met your gaze, the blue holding something complex, kind of like relief; as if he could finally give an honest, full answer. He shook his head, voice firm as he spoke.
“No, I wasn’t following you, Sugar. I’ve been… away for a while. Dealing with my own shit. I had no need to find you; Pete had already done that. He’d had his eyes on you from the start. He let you believe you were getting away with it, he let the debt build and waited for the right moment to call it in.”
He leaned forward slightly, expression earnest, as if willing you to believe this particular truth, which you did. The confession about his absence seemed to carry its own weight, a private burden he wasn’t ready to unpack.
“Do you promise that you’ll never ask me…” You paused, struggling to find the words. “That you’ll never want me like that? Like how they do?”
The question caught Steve off guard. He looked at you, really looked at you, and the weariness in his eyes seemed to deepen. He didn’t answer straight away, perhaps weighing the truth of his own desires against the promise you were desperately asking for— hoping for. His gaze softened, but it was a sad, resigned kind of softness, as you let out a breath of relief.
“Had this been any other situation,” He started, voice sounding sincere and soft. “In a bar, or a coffee shop— Hell, even the club…. I would’ve been trying every single shitty technique in the book to get you to come home with me. But this?” He gestured vaguely to the room around you. “This? I don’t want you like this. I won’t try a single thing. I swear to you.”
You pause for a moment, searching his face, his eyes, everything about him to try and find a shred of dishonesty; there isn’t any, or at least there doesn’t seem to be any. How you got lucky to find a bear in a wolf’s den you’d never know, but how grateful you were to have done so. You knew he couldn’t be there to keep them at bay, but he could be there to undo the damage and offer you rest in a house that was determined to keep you running.
“How do I deal with Curtis? With Lloyd? I know you already said to give in, but how? How do I give in to that? I can handle Pete; I’ve been doing that for months. Jake seems… Fine? I guess, if you can call it that. Ari’s an asshole, but again, easy to deal with. You were so upset about them, I—“
“Hey, hey,” Steve cut in, hand reaching out for yours hesitantly, and despite the pull for comfort, you slid your hand back. “Lloyd won’t force you. Not physically. But, he’ll make you feel like you wish he had. It’s a game to him. He wants to see you break, to give in because you want it all to stop. Just… Don’t cry. It spurs him on.” He ran a hand over his face, the weight of the advice clearly costing him parts of his sanity. “Curt… He’s a blunt instrument. That's the best way I can put it. He doesn’t play games the way Lloyd does. Don’t fight him; it’ll only excite him. The best thing to do is to give in and let him get bored. I’ll be there at his door wanting, and I’ll help you, I’ll care for you. It’s gonna be hard, and it’s gonna suck…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words to finish explaining. “I don’t know what else I can do or say to prepare you.”
You nodded, unable to do anything else as you let the grim advice sink in. The soup sat unfinished between you both, growing cold along with your souls. Steve checked his watch as the sun dipped lower before he reached across the table and moved the bowl away from you. His movements were careful, like he was afraid that any sudden motion could shatter the fragile truce between you.
“Is there… Is there anything I can do for you?” Steve asked. “A bath, maybe? Let you clean up before… everything starts?”
“Ari’s fucking dreaming if he thinks I’m ever sleeping with him again.”
A short laugh escaped Steve, the corner of your own mouth ticking up slightly, a sound that surprised you both. It’s devoid of any real humor, more of a release of tension that you both desperately needed. He shook his head, an almost pitying smile tugging at his lips.
“Well, to relax then.”
He glanced towards the en-suite bathroom door, then back at you; a mixture of genuine concern and the grim understanding of what’s to come. “A hot bath might help? I mean, it’s better than just sitting here… waiting, and then you could try and get some more sleep.”
You nodded, knowing he was right, and drifting in hot water didn’t sound awful.
“A bath sounds good,” You agreed.
Steve nodded and got to his feet, the chair moving softly against the carpet. He crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom, and soon after, you heard the faucet turn on, and the sound of running water filled the room. He returned a moment later, leaning against the doorframe and drying his hands on a small hand towel. He beckoned you over with a flick of his head and a small smile.
“It’s running, I’ll give you some privacy. I can leave—“
“Can you stay? Just for a bit longer?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything.”
You got to your feet and made your way across the room. Steve stepped aside to let you pass. You paused for a moment, staring up at him, and a sudden need for comfort clawed at your gut, but you pushed it down.
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” Steve replied, and stepped further into the bedroom.
You closed the bathroom door behind you with a parting smile. It was spacious, done up in the same gold and cream tones as the bedroom, with marble countertops and a deep, freestanding tub that sent over a luring scent of lavender as the bubbles inside climbed higher. The air grew warm and humid as you began to undress, realizing the smell of Ari and the sticky sickliness of the club still clung to your skin— a sordid mix of cologne, sweat, and smoke. You catch your reflection in the mirror; hair tangled and eyes wide with a mixture of fear, desolation, and the smoldering flame of your waning defiance.
You averted your gaze and stepped into the water, the heat a shocking comfort against your tense muscles. The cuts on your hands stung as they hit the water, acting as a harsh reminder that you were still here, still stuck. The steam rose around you, and for a few precious moments, the water washed away the grime of the club, the touches from Ari, and let you forget your cage. You leaned your head back against the cool porcelain, let your eyes fall closed, and allowed yourself to enjoy these last few moments of peace before the storm closed in.
You stayed submerged until the warmth had seeped deep into your bones, offering a temporary numbness. The water had begun to cool, and you reluctantly pulled yourself out; the air felt cool against your skin, making you shiver.er. You stepped out and reached for a thick, plush power and quickly dried yourself before plucking a robe hanging from the door. It swallowed you, sitting heavy on your shoulders and smelling faintly of clean linen.
As you stepped back into the bedroom, you found the space transformed. The trays of food had gone, the room was tidy, the bed neatly made up; the corner of the covers pulled back slightly to welcome you inside. Steve was perched on the window ledge, one knee drawn up; fingers clapped over his knee as he stared out at the darkening grounds. He turned as you entered, a soft smile touched his lips as he studied you.
“Feeling better?” He sought out. He nodded towards the nightstand, drawing your attention to a tall glass of water that now sat next to a small, wrapped chocolate. It was a small, almost childish gesture of care, starkly out of place. “Figured you might be thirsty.”
You nodded and grabbed the glass before sitting down on the edge of the bed. You drank the water slowly, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the bath’s warmth. You felt Steve’s eyes on you from across the room. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable; it was the quiet of two people, both trapped in the same terrible situation, who had hoped to find a temporary peace. You heard Steve get to his feet as you placed the glass down, and you turned your head to meet his eyes as he walked around the bed's frame and came before you.ou. He offered out a hand, which you cautiously took, finding it warm and surprisingly gentle. He guided you up and led you a few steps back from the bed, his movement careful, almost reverent. He pulled back the heavy duvet and crisp sheets further.
He doesn’t say a word as he helps you into the bed, pulling up the covers as you slip underneath. He tucked the duvet around your shoulders, his touch lingering for a brief second before he pulled away.
“So?” He asked softly.
You wondered for a moment before realizing you hadn’t answered his previous question.
“Oh, um…” Your nose scrunched up as you offered an apologetic smile. “No, not really. Maybe for a moment.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, voice a soft murmur. “Get some rest. I’ll come check on you before… well, you know.”
He gave you one last, long look— pity, guilt, and something else you couldn’t quite name— before he turned and walked to the door. He paused at the threshold, hand on the handle until it clicked open, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the wood. Without turning back, he opened the door, stepped through, and pulled it shut; the sound was softer this time, almost an apology in and of itself.
You were left alone in the vast, silent room. The only light came from the moon outside the window and the short glare from under the door. The bed's comfort felt like a mockery. You closed your eyes despite sleep feeling like a distant country; the sounds of your own breathing and the creeping dread of what was to come were your only comfort, and as much as the logical side of you warned you to be careful, a deeper need begged for Steve to return quickly.
When your eyes next opened, the room was enveloped in darkness, and you found yourself lost in the time you fell asleep; however, where there should be silence, the sound of crisp burning filled your ears. You sat up, eyes darting to the corner of the room where you found Ari standing by the open window, smoke drifting around him.
“Get out,” You bit out.
Ari huffed out a laugh, almost coughing as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs.
“S’after midnight, Sugar,” Ari informed you smugly.
“I don’t care. I told you last night. I’m not giving you anything—“
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work,” He continued, as if you didn’t speak. “Fighting, screaming, attempting to starve yourself. All you’re doing is making it worse.”
"Then let me go."
"You know I can't do that."
"You mean you won't."
Ari’s jaw tightened as he took one last drag of his cigarette and threw the stub out of the window before pulling a small key from his pocket and shutting the window and locking it shut.
"You owe Pete. You broke the rules. This is the consequence,” He tried to embed, and you wondered if he was trying to convince you or himself.
"This is kidnapping," you spat. "This is—"
"This is survival," Ari interrupted,his voice hard. "Yours and mine. You think I want to be here? You think I want to do this?" He stepped closer to the bed, and you pressed yourself back against the headboard. "But I don't have a choice. And neither do you."
"There's always a choice."
"Not for you. Not anymore." He crouched down beside the bed so he was at eye level with you. His expression was cold. "You can keep fighting. Keep refusing. Keep making this difficult. And every time you do, Lloyd will add time to your debt. Every time you scream, every time you refuse to eat, every time you make Curtis or Pete or any of us work harder to keep you in line—you stay longer."
Your chest tightened.
"Or," Ari continued, rising up slowly to his feet, "you can accept it. Play along. Do what you're told. And maybe—maybe—you get out of here in a few months instead of a few years."
"I'm not going to—"
"Yes, you are." His voice is flat, harsh, and final. "Because the alternative is worse. Trust me. Today, you're mine— Whether you like it or not. And if you keep fighting me?" He leaned down towards the bed, fists pushing into the mattress as he glared over at you, something dark in his eyes. "You'll regret it."
And for the first time, the full weight of your situation crashed down on you like it hadn’t before. It sat deep in your chest and snaked around your throat. You weren't getting out; not by fighting, not by screaming, not by pleading. They had thought of everything. Every possible play you thought you had was already meticulously mapped out.
You found Ari was right about one thing:
This was survival, and you had every intention of getting out of there as quickly as you could.
༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
⁀➷ previous chapter
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings
pete brenner x female!reader.
ari levinson x female!reader.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ & future pairings:
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
curtis everett x female!reader.
steve rogers x female!reader.
jake jensen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 13, 987. | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: alcohol, general sadness, advances, pete being a scumbag, blow jobs, choking, dub-con, blackmail, abuse (kinda, it's just pete being a mean asshole), coercion, cigarettes, rough sex, dirty talk, oral.
please let me know if i missed any, i am tired and i think i've listed everything.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
CHAPTER TWO BAYBEEEEEEE!!!! ARI IS HERE!!!!!
the others were meant to make their first appearance but it is getting late and i wanna get this chapter out so we shall be meeting them next time!! i do have a busy week coming up, but i shall be around for the next couple days to scream about this with you!!
pleaseeee let me know your thoughts, it gives me motivation to keep up and keep going!! i cannot thank u enough for the love i received on the last chapter and i hope this one pleases you all the same!!
all mistakes are my own, please let me out if anything stark jumps out so i can correct it as it was partly written on my phone and ios likes their silly auto correct that tired eyes tend to miss!
enjoy!!<333
Over the next few weeks, Ari became a permanent fixture at the club bar. Greeting you at the start of your shift with a grin and heavy hand on your back, wordlessly flirting every time you walked by. You wasted time standing at the bar idly chatting, flushed cheeks and exchanging cheesy smiles as you rambled on about anything and everything. However, despite the countless attempts, Ari never took you up on a dance. Always dismissed it as not having much time, but you would always find him back at the bar by the end of your shift.
Not that it bothered you… It was a nice, welcomed change.
You could spend your time flirting with the mysterious man at the bar… Yeah, who were you kidding?
It bothered you a lot.
You wanted nothing more than to make him crumble as you were grinding in his lap. You wanted filth talked in your ear, you wanted to bat his hands away with a playful glee, you wanted an offer of going home with him. You wanted to know what he felt like between your thighs, wanted to know how he sounded when he came. It was driving you insane.
It drove you batshit crazy when one night, you waltzed into the club and found Ari’s usual barstool empty. You spent the entire night, and the following week, waiting on bated breath for him to appear back in his seat. You had given up hope, thinking you’d scared him away, or that he’d gotten bored and moved on to something– someone, new. However, on a surprisingly warm Thursday night, there he was, perched on his usual barstool, drink in hand and greeting you with a smile.
You went about your usual routine, glee in every step, counting every bill until you had racked up a decent amount; enough to go and waste the rest of your shift propped against the bar, staring up at the gorgeous mountain of a man until the club quietened and the lights threatened to turn on.
‘’You’ve been busy tonight,’’ Ari observed, the gravel in his voice making your knees want to give way as you sauntered over to him, a dazed smile and an aching in your legs that you would happily beg him to ease… Or add to. ‘’Looking for a break, Sugar?’’
‘’Oh, well, that depends on the break,’’ You replied, a coy smile tugging at your lips. ‘’You’ve not been around here much.’’
‘’I’ve been here,’’ He replies, sipping at the amber liquid in his glass.
You shook your head and wagged your finger, ‘’I would not miss a man like you. You absolutely haven’t been sitting round my stage either.’’
‘’Let’s circle back to the ‘man like you’ thing,’’ He laughed. ‘’And, what is a ‘man like me’, Sugar?’’
‘’Have you seen you?’’ You waved your hand around him. ‘’You’re a giant– Not that I’m complaining… Just not exactly unnoticeable.’’
‘’That your type?’’ He questioned enticingly, leaning down a little making your cheeks heat up and making you hold up your hand to cover the smile that broke out on your face as you turned your head.
‘’You are trouble, Sir.’’
‘’Oh, I’m the trouble?’’ He chuckled, following it up with a playful hum as you nodded your head. ‘’I don’t think I’m the one that’s trouble, Sugar.’’
You sucked in a breath, begging the butterflies in your stomach to land as you leaned over the bar to get your usual glass of water, taking it from the hand of the bar staff and taking a big gulp.
‘’Loud in here, right?’’
‘’Quieter upstairs,’’ You informed, eyes bright and gesturing to the balcony and placing your glass down.
Ari moved in closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his chest and peering up at him as he searched your face with longing, not the same lustful gaze of the clients or the possessive hunger of Pete. He looked at you like he actually saw you; wanted you. His large hand came up to fix the strap digging into your shoulder, rough fingers grazing your skin and making it leap for more of his touch.
‘’You wanna spend a song in my lap, Sugar?’’ He teased a playful glint in his eye.
‘’You finally gonna let me?’’
‘’Gotta little extra time tonight, so why not? You gonna give me your best?’’
You nodded breathlessly, lost for words because not only had he finally caved, not because he had been the one to offer this time, but because for the first time since you stepped foot in Pete’s Place, there was finally a man you’d happily waste a night with for free. You kept your eyes glued on him as he turned to get a refill on his drink before he turned back to you and grinned bright.
‘’Lead the way, Sugar.’’
You lured Ari by his large hand through the thumping bass, spotlights and clouds of smoke, turning your head back to steal shy glances at the moving mountain; heat burning at your cheeks when he would grin back at you. The steps seemed like a mountain, your heels clicking with step, his heavy footsteps parroting with deep thuds as you climbed. You hung your head past your regular clients as you led him to the back booth, stowed away from peering eyes and hidden from Pete’s suffocating authority; a secret sanctuary for just them.
You let go of his hand to turn and wave him into the booth, your eyes locked on his as he sank into the seat, practically squeezing himself into the booth, his large frame taking up half of it as he splayed his legs open for you to step into and draped his arm across the back of the red leather. His heavy, brooding eyes and knowing smirk drew you closer until you stood between his legs.
You tilted your head, fingers drumming against your thigh; waiting and watching as he finally moved forward to place his glass on table after taking a long sip and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a large stack of bills and flicking through them before plucking a few and holding them up to you. With a slow moment, your fingers grazing his, you took them, folded them neatly and stashed it in your bra.
The music slowed, a languid grinding rhythm flooding the upstairs booths, you lowered yourself into his lap, his large thighs a welcomed seat. The air suddenly felt thick, stealing your breath as your head tipped back against his shoulder. The contrast was staggering, his large frame wrapped around yours, you felt tiny and delicate against the sheer bulk of him. You prayed to find your balance, the ridge of your shoes clattering against the floor as you moved against him. His hand came up to your hip, hidden from eyes thanks to the booth’s table, aiding you in your balance, rough finger tips stroking against your skin.
“Struggling, Sugar?” He hummed lowly in your ear.
“Little cramped,” You laughed breathlessly. “Not like you can help it, though?”
“Booths definitely weren't built with me in mind, hmm?”
You shook your head, breath catching in your throat as you arched your back, finally finding your rhythm and enjoying your hidden moment.
You found it hard to concentrate, your focus pulled to the fingers that rubbed against your thigh, the hand on your hip, the woody smell; the hard ridge pressed against your ass that made you gasp and your stomach flip. You found yourself honing in on it, moving your hips just right to elicit a deep, chesty groan that vibrated against your back; your breath hitched as Ari’s grip tightened and pulled you flush against him.
“Easy—“ You tried to warn, but got a slow shush in return, your eyes falling shut as you felt his fingers now stroking at your inner thigh, goosebumps raised up to meet his fingertips. “If my boss comes up here—“
“Well, be a good girl and keep a look out, Sugar.”
Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and heavy as you felt Ari’s breath on your neck, the sweet alcohol on his breath making you dizzy as his fingers climbed up your thigh. You fought to not turn your head back and look at him, the view of the club an increasingly sore sight compared to the man who was working his way up your skirt.
“I’m gonna be so fucked if we get caught.” You spoke sullenly, panic setting in as you caught the eyes on the few men sitting in the booths, eyes leering on your body; hungrily waiting their turn to have you in their laps.
“You’re gonna be fucked once I get my hand under your panties, Sugar,” Ari rumbled, rough and breathy as his finger teased down your clothed seam, making your chest rise and fall heavily as you caught the moan that wanted to escape your throat. “Gonna have to come home with me one day, baby. Just so I can hear those pretty noises.”
You nodded, words escaping you as Ari pressed down with a surprising gentleness over your clothed bundle of nerves. You rocked softly into his hand, desperate for more friction. The deep, throaty chuckle from Ari as you turned your head and hid your face against his neck, mouth propping open made you whine while you grinded back against him.
“Gotta keep those eyes peeled, Sugar,” Ari instructed. “Could sit you on my cock right here, have you grind those pretty hips on me. Bet you could make me cum quick, couldn’t you, Sugar?”
“Fuck, I can’t— We gotta stop—“ You dared to peer up at him, finding heavy set eyes and sly smirk.
“Shh, shh, shh,” Ari hushed in your ear, “Come on, be good for me, keep an eye out.”
“Fuck,” You whispered and turned your attention back to the balcony, unable to meet the eyes of any of the men; cheeks rosy and chest flushed; sweat clung to your skin, your hair stuck to your forehead. You knew how it looked, there was no way of hiding it. If Pete came up onto the balcony, you were absolutely royally fucked, but you found it hard to care as Ari slipped a finger under the fabric, his calloused finger tip sliding between your folds, gathering the slick that had pooled there as he groaned deep in his throat. “Ari, I— Fuck.”
You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on. It was like your brain was overloaded with error codes. Your lungs craved the smell of him, your thighs begged to have him between them; every inch of you wanted him. A second finger joined as you bit back a moan, grinding shamelessly, offbeat and staggered, against him while he rubbed slow, agonising circles on your clit. The hand on your hip disappeared, feeling it against your back as he nudged you forward.
“Gotta give me some room, Sugar— Gimme a sec, fuckin’ tight in here,” Ari murmured in your ear, breathy and deep. “Gotta keep quiet, baby. Gotta be good, remember. Don’t give it away.”
You whined pitifully when he took his hand away from your core to work his belt open and pull down his zipper, you looked back at him with pleading eyes to be met with an intense stare and a nod of his head to your gaze back which you did reluctantly. Your chest rose and fell heavily in anticipation when suddenly his large hand splayed across your stomach and slid you back with ease; ending up with your back flush against his defined chest, the fabric doing nothing to hide the hard muscles that attempted to hide underneath. His other hand found its way back to your underwear, fingers hooking under the band and pulling them to the side.
You eyed the crowd, thankful for an entirely different reason that it was starting to quieten down. The neighbouring booths were now empty and the other men were distracted by the girls on the poles down below. The chances of being caught were slimmer now, but still a worry. You knew better, you knew you shouldn’t be so blatant where Pete could easily find you, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ari had set off something deep and primal, a searing need to feel him; be taken apart by him.
Before you could even speak, that suffocated fear trying to bubble up through the thick desire, it was like Ari had a sixth sense as he hushed you again.
“Let it happen, Sugar. You know you want it,” He said simply before his arm snaked around your waist and hoisted you up a little to allow his cock to slot between your thighs and nudged himself between your slick folds. “Fuck, you feel me, Sugar? Feel what you’ve done to me?” He moaned in your ear. “Can feel what I’ve done to you, so fucking wet for me. Gonna let me inside, Sugar? Right here? They know, you know? They know what I’m doing to you…” He trailed off as you rocked your hips, his thick cock sliding with ease between your folds, the head nudging against your clit sending shivers down your spine and a burning ache in your thighs. “So fucking jealous that it’s not them, so fucking jealous they don’t get feel this pussy around their cocks. Just me, hmm? Just met me and lettin’ me ruin you in front of a crowd.”
“God, you’re a talker.” You whined in a whisper, lips parted, letting out little gasps and muted moans. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Bet you wish you could spread those legs and bounce on it,” Ari continued, the gravel in his voice rumbling against your back. “Bet you take it like a champ. Think you could take it all, Sugar? Can you feel it? You thinkin’ about me stretching you open, splitting you open on my cock? Bet you’re so fuckin’ tight, baby? You gonna let me in?”
“Not here, we can’t— Ari, fuck—“ You stuttered out brokenly, hand reaching behind to grip at the long strands, your other gripping his thigh as you rocked harder, quicker; swallowing the moan desperate to escape as his hand came up to your throat, his large hand covering the entirety. His fingers flexed against the column, showing off what he could do but chose not to while his other hand moved back to your hip, keeping you steady.
“Keep rocking those hips, baby. Keep doing that, don’t you stop,” Ari spurred on, bringing up his own, thrusting his cock through your folds. It was like someone had shut off all sounds of the club and all that was left was the lewd sounds of his cock slipping over your clit. “Can you feel you tensing up, Sugar. You close? You gonna cum on this cock, not even been inside you, you gonna drench it for me? Know you can, know this is all you need. S’okay, I’m close too, so fucking close.”
Your breath hitched jaggedly, feeling that all familiar coil wind and wind as you shamelessly grinded against him, turning your head to hide your moans in the crook of neck, lips against the sweat-slick skin. Your fingers tightened in the locks on his hair pulling a sharp hiss as he tightened the grip on your hips in return. You prayed to whatever higher power that there would be bruises from his finger prints in the morning. The hand on your throat increased its pressure, squeezing a moan into a breathless gasp. A few more nudges sent you over the edge, head dropping back as his hand moved from your throat, clamping down on your mouth to silence the string of moans that desperately wanted to find a home within the walls surrounding the booths.
Ari picked up his pace, rocking up against you through the throws of your orgasm, breath heavy and quick.
“‘Atta girl, cuming on my cock, fuck— M’right behind you, Sugar, don’t you stop, keep rubbing that pretty pussy on me, keep going,” Ari babbled, strained and husky, head tipping down to muffle his moans against your shoulder as his hips stutter and you felt the wet heat paint between your thighs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He rasped against your skin. “Holy fucking shit.”
His hand slipped from your mouth, your chests heaving in unison as you turned your head to hide in the crook of his neck, both of you letting out small laughs. Your legs trembled as you spent a moment trying to catch your breath, Ari’s hands stroking up and down your sides, his cock still thick and spent between your legs. Your hands shook as you reluctantly leaned forward to awkwardly pull a few napkins from the centre of the booth table and reached under your skirt to clean yourself up the best you could while he slipped you forward to tuck himself away.
“That was—“
“Good,” Ari quickly cut in. “So fucking good.”
“—Can’t happen again,” You finished, turning back to look at him and that dazed smile on his face. “Reckless and stupid. We could’ve gotten caught and then I would’ve been out of a job.”
“Oh, it’s gonna happen again,” Ari beamed, chuckling and rubbing at your sides. “You’ve given me a reason to keep coming back, Sugar.”
You dropped your head, shaking it as you let out a laugh before getting to your feet despite Ari’s protests.
“I gotta go,” You said, looking down at him with a slight pout, knowing you’d happily spend hours more tucked away with him. “Clubs gonna close soon and I’ve spent way too long up here; gotta go show my face and all that.”
Ari just nodded as he rose to his feet, towering over you once again.
“I look forward to tomorrow, Sugar,” Ari whispered after leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.
You raised a hand to squeeze at his cheeks, his rough beard pricking the skin.
“Trouble,” You bit playfully.
You left Ari with a grin on his face, rubbing his beard with his hand as he watched you walk away. You passed the emptying booths and with shaking legs navigated the stairs back down onto the club floor. Dancers were finishing their sets, giving you small smiles as you passed. You knew how you must look, so you didn’t stop to speak to anyone or lingered too long in front of the stages. You hurried back to the dressing room, hoping to find it empty but instead were met with multiple sets of eyes from your fellow dancers with parted lips and raised eyebrows.
“You… You looked fucked out, Sugar,” Lolly said, lips parted in shock as she scanned your face.
“Yeah,” You said, still trying to catch your breath and begging your heart to slow down.
“Don’t tell me you did it here,” Navy spoke as she placed her shoes into her locker, slamming it shut. “Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”
“I didn’t fuck him,” You protested.
“Please don’t piss me off,” Rachael groaned. “You sure as shit did something. If Pete finds out—“
“He’s not gonna find out because I didn’t do anything! It was a long dance, I’m tired. I don’t need this shit!”
“Hey,” Crocki soothed, letting her bag drop to the floor as she strode across the dressing room floor. “No one’s giving you shit. We don’t wanna see Pete give you more trouble and this…” She waved a hand around you. “…Is trouble. Clean yourself up before Pete sees you and be careful.”
“I didn’t do anything—“
“Do you think we’re stupid? It’s all over you— He’s all over you.” Lolly shook her head. “Please be more careful and don’t be doing that shit in here. We like you, we don’t need to lose another girl through poor choices. Please.”
You looked around, trying desperately now to catch your breath before covering your face with your hands and nodding your head. You knew they were right, you knew you couldn’t do it again and you also knew that if the opportunity presented itself then you would absolutely be doing it again. The girls gave you hugs and comforting words before they departed, leaving you alone in the dressing room to gather yourself, clean up and change before having to face the devil.
You sulked your way into Pete’s office, threw the cash down on his desk, not giving a single glance at the man before turning around and heading out the door before he could even dish out your pathetic cut. You thought you had escaped him for the night, but the quick, heavy footsteps and the tug on your shoulder told you another story. You stopped, sighed and turned around; folding your arms and sucking in a sharp breath.
“The fucks up with you tonight?” Pete questioned, a sour look on his face. “You were in such a good mood earlier.”
“I’m exhausted and to be honest… Kinda don’t wanna deal with you offering whatever bullshit you’re gonna throw at me tonight.”
You regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Pete’s face twisted up with rage before he grabbed your arm and practically dragged you back down the hall and back to his office. Your heart hammered in your chest as you were flung into the room, footsteps faltering, but you managed to catch yourself and spin around as he slammed the door shut. You threw your arms up in surrender as tears welled up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You quickly pleaded. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that—“
“You’re damn fucking right,” Pete cut in sharply, crossing the room and standing inches from you; his hands tucked into his pockets as he leant down close to your face.
“I’m so tired,” You whined, putting on your best performance yet. “I’m so exhausted. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I didn’t mean it. I’m so, so sorry.” You took a step forward, closing the space and curling yourself up against his chest, arms clutching at his shirt. “There was a guy, and he made me uncomfortable and it felt like I was gonna get away from him,” You spewed, hoping he’d take the bait and calm the rage that was set deep in his eyes.
Pete tensed for a moment before he let out a long sigh and you heard the pull of fabric as he peeled his hands out his pockets before he wrapped his arms around you. You instantly relaxed, letting out a small breath of relief as you managed to subdue him. You felt one of his hands come up to the back of your head, stroking your hair softly as held you close.
“It’s a hard job,” Pete started. “It’s hard and there’s gonna be days where you feel like giving up, but…” His hand suddenly tightened in your hair, forcing your head back as you let out a small whimper. His eyes peered down into yours, the rage still sat heavy. “You never bite the hand that feeds you. Understood?”
You nodded despite the tight grip on your hair, hand coming up to cover his as he pulled your head back further, neck straining as he peered down at you. You held your breath, scared to make another move in case you provoked him further. With a sick smile and a firm kiss pressed to your cheek, he roughly released you. You stumbled backwards a few steps, bringing your hand up to the sore, thumping at the top of your scalp as Pete collected your cut from the pile you threw down on his desk earlier.
“Thank you,” You said shakily, carefully taking the bills from his outstretched hand.
“Get the fuck out of here,” He dismissed sharply, turning his back to you to straighten up his desk.
You swallowed the lump in your throat and quickly made your way out of the club. The cool air was a welcomed reprieve, you stood there for a moment, wiping your tears and taking in deep inhales of the fresh air. You didn’t know how much longer you were gonna be able to put up with Pete’s antics, the crude men, the stale smell; the micromanaging, the advances that left a sour taste in your mouth. You knew you had to get out of there as quickly as possible.
You spent the next few weeks taking extra risks, seeing more clients, and raising your prices. Your free time was spent between houses, apartments and luxury hotel rooms. You meticulously kept track of every bill that touched your hand, stashing it away in the hotel room. You searched for a temporary apartment in the next town, weighing up all your options on how to get out as quickly as possible. You even took the chance of not showing up at the club, feigning exhaustion to an infuriated Pete on the other end of the phone, to build your hidden bank.
The nights you were at the club, you spent them searching the crowd while on the pole for Ari, wasting time you could’ve been earning money moving lap to lap by grinning like a love-sick puppy while he leaned against the bar as he idly talked about his day, and hiding away with him up in the booths; his hand under your skirt and crooning filth into your ear. You didn’t get it… Most men would’ve begged for you to come home with them by now, but Ari seemed more than happy with stolen moments and flirtatious comments at the bar. Pulling away from him at the end of the night was the hardest, you hated how much you actually liked him, knowing that you’d never have anything more than stolen moments and a hand between your thighs.
It was a miserable Tuesday night, grey clouds and drizzle. You shook off your coat as you stepped into the club and took your usual route to the dressing room, passing smiles and nods to the regulars dotted along the way. You almost made it inside the room of perfume, giggles and feminine company when you were called over by an all familiar voice. Pete was standing against the wall by his office door, stern faced and cigarette between his fingers. You sucked in a breath and slung your bag into the dressing room as you trudged over to him, following him inside the stale-smoke dim office.
“Where the fuck have you been? Two days and you haven’t shown your face,” He questioned, gruff and irritated as he took a drag of his cigarette.
“I told you, I’ve been working during the day,” You answered, searching his face hoping to ease his irritation. “I picked up a waitressing gig, I still owe you money and I want to get an apartment and get out of that hotel. It’s driving me insane,” You finished explaining, hand running through your hair, fiddling with a tangle as you desperately waited to be able to bolt out of the door and get on with your shift.
“Why haven’t you said anything? You could’ve—“
“Asked you for more money?” You scoffed, throwing up your hands. “Pete, I can’t…’’ You stepped towards where he was perched against his desk. ‘’I’ve taken too much. I’m not taking anymore. I’ll figure it out… And, I’ll be here all week, I swear.’’
You waited for a response as Pete went strangely quiet. He scanned you top to toe, pursed lips and drummed his fingers rhythmically against his desk. You had already had a conversation a week prior about you suddenly not needing money anymore, and since then he’d become increasingly more irritated with you, even more so on the nights you didn’t show up, but it was a risk you were willing to take. He seemed more bothered about you not being around than worrying about what you were doing while away from the club– or at least, that’s what you hoped.
“Alright…” Pete spoke, stubbing out his cigarette and standing straight. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand down his face. “I can’t have you exhausting yourself. My pockets also notice the difference when you don’t work, so how about I let you start in VIP… A trial run for a week or two.”
“I’m fine—“
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He cut in, loud and exasperated. “You ride my ass for weeks about wanting to work more and now you don’t want it?”
“It’s just that you were right,” You answered, eyes wide and frantically working to calm him down, not wanting a repeat of the night with Ari. “After speaking to the girls, I can’t do it. I wouldn’t be able to do it,” And I don’t wanna share the profits made on my body, you sleazy fuck.
“That’s why it’s a trial run, Sugar,” “So you can figure it out.”
“I know it’ll take longer to pay you back, but if my cut could be a little bigger then I could give up the waitressing job.”
Pete laughed, ‘’I’m taking as small of a cut as I can already, Sugar. You’re lucky I’m not taking every penny you earn.’’
‘’I’m gonna have to keep doing what I’m doing then, or I’m gonna have to quit.’’
‘’Quit?’’ Pete’s voice was dangerously low, eyes wide and fist clenched. ‘’You threatening to walk out on me? After everything I’ve done for you?’’
‘’I don’t want to.’’ I do. ‘’I just– I’m barely surviving, Pete. I can’t keep up with this. If I knew taking that money would keep biting me in the ass then I wouldn’t have done it. I’m stuck in a shitty hotel, eating shitty food, blisters on my feet, strangers hands all over me, and then I get a few shitty hours of sleep and have to deal with the bullshit at my other–’’
‘’Alright, alright, alright,’’ Pete caved, hands thrown up in a bid for you to stop. ‘’Jesus fucking Christ, any idea how loud you fucking get?’’
‘’I’m tired,’’ You pleaded, swallowing the insult he just threw, the first bit of truth you’d given him in a long time. ‘’I’m reaching a breaking point,’’ You told him, hoping to appeal to whatever little strand of humanity was left inside him; well, if there was any left at all.
“It’s gonna take you longer, Sugar… If you really wanna do it your way,” “But, we could always work something out if you wanna wipe that debt clean.”
“Pete, I’m not sleeping with you—“
“Please, plenty of my girls give up pussy for me,” Pete said dismissively.
You couldn’t stop your face scrunching up at his words, bile rising in your throat. Pete really wasn’t unattractive by any means— He certainly wasn’t Ari, but not bad looking in any way— it was his mouth, his demeanour, his being that was the biggest turn off on planet Earth. Had he been a kinder man, a better man, you would’ve happily done what he wanted.
“Just some head,” He proposed, shrugging like he had suggested picking up an extra shift.
‘’You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going anywhere near your dick, Pete. God knows who you’ve had on the end of that thing,’’ You huffed, arms folding over your chest as you shook your head. He’d made advances before, propositions and crude jokes, but nothing as brazen as this.
‘’Guess you’re mine for a good while, Sugar,’’ Pete grinned, smugness painted all over his face.
You hated it; hated the power he had over you, and how much he loved it, basked in it. You didn’t know if you could survive being here much longer, and here was a golden opportunity to finally be done with it.
“I do this… And I owe you nothing.”
“Not a dime.”
You pondered for a moment, trying to pluck up the courage to actually do it, to be done with him and the club and run with the money stuffed under your shitty hotel bed. The longer you were here, the higher the chance of him finding out what you were doing on the side.
You sighed, defeated.
“I can’t— I— That’s just not me. I can’t do it.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me then, Sugar,” Pete shrugged, tone smug like he knew you wouldn’t do it. “I’ll let you have a bigger cut, but you’re not leaving here until every penny is paid, you hear me?”
You nodded and accepted your loss before turning to leave, you opened the door and stood there for a moment. You listened to the overlapping voices, the boisterous laughter of the men, the thumping off the bass that had left you with headache after headache. You thought about the dread that would sit heavy in your stomach every time you stepped on stage, the shoes that left blisters, the costumes that left indents on your skin; the shitty pay, and having to deal with Pete longer than you had thought you’d have to, and with those thoughts… You closed the door and flicked the lock.
You turned with a sigh, finding Pete with a knowing grin on his face, twirling a pen in his fingers whilst lounged back in his chair. He didn’t say anything. He simply dropped the pen on his desk, letting out a pleased sigh as he rose to his feet and slowly unbuckled his belt. You swallowed the bile, the pride, the screams of anger that wanted to escape and hesitantly stepped over, moving around the desk as Pete seated himself back down, before you sullenly lowered yourself onto your knees.
“Every penny?”
“Every penny, Sugar,” Pete confirmed, unbuttoning his pants and nudging them down and beckoning you closer with a crook of his finger. “Knew you had it in you, Sugar… Just needed the right kind of motivation, hmm?””
You inhaled a deep breath before slowly reaching out, hands trembling slightly, shuffling yourself closer so your chest was flush against his office chair, fully encased by his thighs. You reached inside the band of his boxers, awkwardly working to free his cock, already hard; head leaking with anticipation. Pete let out a breathy sigh, eyes hooded as he stared down at you. Your heart thumped harshly in your chest as you held him by the base and gathered spit in your mouth.
With a final inhale, a silent prayer and the promise of a quicker route to freedom, you leaned forward and licked a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, earning a deep groan as Pete let his head fall back against the top of his chair. You closed your eyes, hoping to get through it as quickly as possible as worked to get him as wet as possible, hand stroking his length as you took the tip into your mouth, letting your tongue work against the slit, daring to peer up just as Pete gripped the arms of his chair; lips parted as he took in a deep breath.
You hated the thought that popped into your head; he really didn’t look half bad right now. Something about rendering the most mouthy man speechless seemed to spur you on. You took him deeper, earning muttered curses and creaks from the chair. You kept sneaking glances, until your eyes finally met, and a strung out smile appeared on Pete’s lips. Your cheeks flushed, feeling caught and exposed; lips stretched and spit pooling at the corners.
‘’Yeah, that’s it, Sugar,’’ Pete moaned, low and rough. You suddenly felt a wave of shyness take over, averting your eyes to the buttons of his shirt, but he quickly followed up his lustful phrase, ‘’Look at me, don’t hide those eyes from me, come on,’’ He coached, honeyed and breathy. ‘’S’not so bad, is it?’’
You hummed, looking back up at him, hooding your eyes and playing into exactly what Pete would want. Innocence to be stolen, a prize he’d finally won; the girl that had finally given in. It earned you a sharp hiss and jolt of his hips, the tip nudging at the back of your throat. You squeezed the base of his cock, working your hand in time to the bobs of your head.
‘’Knew you’d like it,’’ Pete crooned, hands leaving the arms of the hair to smooth over your hair and cup at your cheek. ‘’All that pretending, for what, hmm? Better down there, isn’t it?’’
You ignored his words and the way they settled heatedly between your thighs, picking up speed and taking him deeper until you were gagging, ears burning when he mockingly chuckled and cooed down at you. You pulled off, taking in a few heaving breaths as you moved your closed fist tightly over his length, lips slick and swollen. His fingers curled into your hair at the top of your scalp, dragging you back towards him before you had a chance to fully catch your breath. You sucked in a long breath before taking him into your mouth again.
‘’Keep going, that’s it, so fucking good,’’ Pete praised through gritted teeth.
You took him in; the sweat stuck to his brow, the rise and fall of his chest, the way he gasped every time he nudged at the back of your throat. The dull drum of the bass from the club floor mixed with the lewd wet noises bouncing off the office walls. The fingers tightening against your scalp and the uptick in his moans spurred you on, knowing you were close to being done; knowing he was close to being done. You took in a long, deep breath through your nose, swallowing as you did so, taking in his length as much as you can.
‘’You can do it, know you can do it, keep swallowing,’’ Pete encouraged, pushing with the hold he had on your hair until your lips stretched around the base, lips stretched to capacity, jaw aching and begging for a break. ‘’That’s it. Fuck, fuck, fuck,’’ He chanted, heated and urgent.
With a final curse, you felt him tense up, hands coming up to push against his thighs as he held you down on his cock, fighting a cough that wanted to escape. After a moment, he finally let you go, and you sunk backwards with a hard thud. You were tempted to spit straight onto the floor, but he roughly grabbed your cheeks.
‘’Don’t you even think about it,’’ He warned, keeping a harsh grip on your cheeks until he saw your throat move with an exaggerated swallow. ‘’’Atta girl,’’ He praised with a tap to your cheek. You had no time to recover as he stood and tucked himself away and dismissed you with a flick of his wrist. ‘’Now, get the fuck back to work.’’
‘’So, I don’t owe you?’’ You asked as you winced, getting to your feet and rubbing at where the carpet had bit into your knees. ‘’We’re good? Done?’’
‘’I’ll think about it,’’ Pete said dismissively, smoothing down his shirt and sitting back in his seat.
‘’What?’’ Felt out, dumbfounded. ‘’You just said–’’
‘’Honestly, I thought it was gonna be better,’’ Pete replied, shrugging as he reached for a cigarette, taking a dramatic pause to light the end and take a deep drag, blowing out the smoke. ‘’So, like I just said… I’ll think about it.’’
You stood there, eyes wide, tears welling up; speechless and perturbed. You watched as Pete continued with his night, right in front of you; like you weren't even there. The sore jaw, the carpet burn and the bitter taste in your mouth… All for nothing. Conned out of you. You clenched your jaw before storming out of the room, slamming the door with a force that turned a few heads from the people scattered down the hallway. You stormed into the dressing room, ignoring the other girls' concerned questions as you changed for your shift.
You spent the night with a feigned smile and eyes on the door, waiting for your tall reprieve to walk through, but of course, he turned out to be another added disappointment to your already horrific night. You cut your losses early, giving up and changing out of the lace and back into your clothes before heading back to Pete’s office. You gave a couple raps on the door, waiting for him to call you in, but after a few moments, all you got was silence.
‘’Pete?’’ You searched, opening the office door slowly.
You let out an aggravated breath, hanging your head as you shook it before looking around the empty office.
Of course.
Of course he wasn’t fucking there.
Why would he be?
You knew you should’ve known better, but the bitter feeling of being slighted made your blood boil.
You slammed his office door shut, stomping your way back into the club and doing one last final look around before giving up. You hoped to find him and convince him to stick to his word, to wipe the debt and finally free you from the hellhole you had come to loathe. For the first time since you stepped foot into the club, he was finally nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t breathing down your neck, touching you and making your skin crawl and you hated it. The one time you actually wanted him around and he had vanished.
The following night, there was still no sign of Ari or Pete, and you didn’t know which one you were more upset about. You hoped to drown your misery in the arms of a man that you actually wanted to see, and you hoped to curse out and get the upper hand out of the man you didn’t want to see. You were internally kicking yourself for stupidly trusting a man that had given you absolutely no reason to trust him in the first place. You were being played since the moment you had stepped into Pete’s club, and you hated yourself for not seeing it sooner.
You sourly made it through your shift, giving half-hearted sets and lazy lap-dances that earned you a pitiful sum. You chucked the bills on Pete’s desk, and stomped your way back home. Fed up, depleted and pissed the fuck off. You knew you had to get away. You knew you couldn’t stay there any longer. So, you made a deal that you would see it through until the end of the month, let Pete keep whatever you earned and hopefully pay him off before skipping down. You spent the night sorting through the cash you had saved up, dividing it up and stowing it back away before you fell into a restless sleep.
A few nights later, Ari finally decided to show his face– His beautiful, bushy-beard, face. You let out a sigh of relief, beelining for him, and resisting the urge to throw your arms around him when you finally made it into his vicinity. You didn’t bother with your usual greeting, you just grabbed his hand after giving him a moment to snag his drink from the bar and led him up to your usual booth. You waited anxiously while he got himself seated before you finally climbed into his lap and pressed your forehead against his.
‘’You missed me, Sugar?’’ Ari chuckled affectionately, hands stroking your hips.
You nodded against his forehead, eyes closed as you took in his smell; the woody aftershave, the leather of his jacket, the faint smoke that clung to his skin. The similar mix on the other men made your stomach turn, but on Ari, it enveloped your senses and made your head swim.
‘’Where have you been?’’ You asked, leaning back, your hands settling on between his neck and board shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
‘’Had some work out of town,’’ He explained, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. ‘’I’m back now, Sugar.’’
Your lip wobbled, finding it ridiculous that you were conversing with him about something so simple under the given circumstance; knowing it wouldn’t last, that one day you’d never see him again.
‘’Hey,’’ Ari cooed, thumb stroking your cheek. ‘’What’s going on?’’
‘’There you are,’’ an all too familiar voice spoke, turning your blood to ice.
The same voice you had spent the past week trying to find. The very same that had conned you to your knees, all to spit in your face after what he’d gotten what he wanted and you just knew the amount of shit you were about to be in. You slowly turned your head, finding Pete stood by the booth, hands in his pockets with a slick smirk on his face. You sat up in Ari’s lap, trying to put as much distance between you and him as you could, a feeble attempt to soften the inevitable blow that was coming your way.
‘’Who’s your friend?’’ Pete spat, tone even as he was trying to feign a sense of politeness in front of a club client.
‘’Oh, uh…’’ You tried, voice wavering and refusing to cooperate. ‘’This–’’
‘’Ari,’’ Ari greeted, cutting in with an outstretched hand.
‘’Pete,’’ Pete replied, short and not offering a hand in return. ‘’Sugar’s boss.’’
The air suddenly felt thicker than normal. Rather than the suffocating air of smoke and desperation, it was replaced with stifling tension that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You knew Pete was weirdly possessive over your every move, but this was different. Your eyes darted between them, feeling exposed in their stand off.
‘’So, you’re why she’s been pulling disappearing acts,’’ Pete accused, looking right past you and straight at Ari. ‘’You really shouldn’t be entertaining personal company on the club's dime, Sugar.’
“She’s dancing, I’m paying… Or, is that not how it works?” Ari challenged.
You felt trapped, awkwardly perched on Ari’s lap whilst him and Pete conversed sharply like you weren’t even there.
‘’Not personal,” Ari retorted, reaching past you, hand brushing your side as he reached for his drink. “She’s just doing her job, she’s not breaking any rules,’’
‘’We’ll see about that,’’ Pete laughed. ‘’I need you downstairs,” Pete said bluntly, turning all his attention back to you. ‘’Now.’’
‘’I just paid for a dance,’’ Ari protested, a short laugh of agitation bubbling out of his throat.
‘’She’ll give you a refund. Two minutes, Sugar, or I’ll be dragging you out that booth myself.’’
Pete gave no room for a further argument as he turned to leave and slowly walked down the balcony floor. You waited until he was out of sight before turning back to Ari, hands coming back up to his neck; eyes softening and swallowing down your embarrassment.
‘’I’m so sorry,’’ You rushed out. “He can be such a dick. I’m so sorry.”
‘’Don’t apologise, just go,’’ Ari said softly, stroking your cheek and helping you off his lap. ‘’Guy’s an asshole. I don’t want to get you into any more trouble than I already have..”
‘’It’s not your fault, not at all.” You risked pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll come find you later.”
You left after Ari gave you a sympathetic smile, squeezing your hand before you turned to make your way down the steep, balcony steps. You found Pete waiting at the foot of the steps, arms crossed and a sour expression. He didn’t say a word to you, simply turned and began to walk into the crowd. You didn’t need him to say anything, though… You knew you were fucked. You hung your head, unable to meet the eyes of anyone in the room in anticipation of your scolding, hoping that the rage you felt from it would be enough to call him out in return.
You followed him into his office, ready to begin your string of pathetic apologies when the door slammed violently and the room became a blur
“Pete, you’re hurting me,”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Pete seethed, close to your face, his twisted in rage. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, but you better cut the shit right now.”
“Pete, I’m not doing anything,” You pleaded, clawing at the hand at the back of your head, uselessly kicking your legs.
“Oh, yeah?” Pete chuckled darkly, releasing you and letting you thud to the floor. “Empty your fucking purse.”
You grab it by the strap, dragging it across the carpet before pinching it open and shaking out the contents with trembling hands and sniffled sobs. All that fell out was a small lipgloss, your phone and some mints. You had already deposited your nightly earnings onto Pete’s desk earlier in the night and you realised you hadn’t taken the cash from Ari after his and Pete’s stand off. You dared to peer up, finding that Pete seemed more upset that he didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for.
“Get the fuck up,” He ordered, enraged and hauling you up by a tight grip on your arm. Your body shook as he slid his hand down your body, feeling for hidden cash in the crevices of the thin material. His hand slipped under the bands, into your bra; fingers pushed roughly under the soles of your feet between the harsh leather of your shoe. He stood back, defeated and irritated as he ran a hand down his face before the very same had shot out to grab you back your neck, almost throttling you as he pulled you close to him.
“If you fuck me, Sugar, I’ve got a line of buyers more than happy to take a shy little thing like you. Make myself a nice chunk of change,” Pete seethed, a sick grin on his face as he pointed a finger in your face. “No more nights hidden away with tall, long haired strangers, alright?”
‘’Why should I listen?’’ You challenged, which was a dangerous thing to do considering the fingers wrapped around your neck. ‘’You fucking played me,’’ You spat, tears starting to stream down your face.
‘’No, Sugar,” Pete replied, a cruel laugh wavering through his voice as he tightened the grip on your throat, his breath hot against your face as he dropped to an almost whisper. “I just gave you a little false hope.” He released his grip on you, leaving you standing with an ache against the skin. ‘’It’s what you get for being so fucking naive! Did you really think I’d just forget about what you owe me over some shitty head?’’
‘’You fucking lied to me.”
‘’You’ll get over it,’’ He said dismissively as he perched against his desk. ‘’Get back to work, Sugar.’’
Pete spat your name as if it was venom in his mouth.
You didn’t need to be told twice.
You grabbed your things from the floor, wiping your tears and tearing out of the room. You smoothed down your clothes and cleared your throat as you made your way back into the club, but stopped dead at the sight of Ari. He was back in his usual place at the bar, your glass of water ready and waiting for you right next to his drink. His eyes softened when they met yours, and he patted the empty space next to him.
“Hey, Sugar,” Ari greeted gently, hand smoothing down your back as you grabbed the glass of water. “Meet me back upstairs?”
“I can’t,” You sniffled, taking a long sip. “Pete’s on my ass, if he sees me with you… I hate this fucking place.’’
“I’m paying, so what’s his problem?” Ari questioned, brow raised slightly.
“He knows I’d rather be sat up there with you than dealing with him down here.”
“Okay,” He said slowly, going quiet for a moment as his gaze danced over the room before looking back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t I meet you after work?”
“Really?”
It was like time stood still, like the noise of the club, the clink of bottles and stifling still air all faded away. You stared at him for a moment, eyes bright and an aching thumping in your chest. Weeks of waiting had finally paid off. He was actually wanting to take you away from here, make you forget, even if it would only be for the night.
“Yeah, really,” Ari laughed a little. “Got something back at my place that’ll make you forget all about your shitty boss and a nice chunk of change—“
Your smile dropped as you rushed you shush him, head whipping around to make sure the surrounding bar staff didn’t hear.
“Not here, if he finds out– Just…” You trailed off, thinking for a moment before scrambling to pull out your phone and turning your back to the bar and slyly sliding your phone into Ari’s hand. “Give me your number,” You instructed quietly, huddling close to block the screen light from the room. You’d usually receive numbers and addresses scrawled on napkins, tucked between bills or slipped into your bag. “I’ll text you when my shift is over. I’m staying at the hotel down the street, meet me there.”
You parted from him with a squeeze of his hand, your usual goodbye, and returned to the floor; however, the experience was different. The thumping of your heart mixed with the bass that pulsed below your feet. Every touch from a club client felt like a countdown, each one helping to pass the time, every smile was a mask for the anticipation that hummed through your veins. You worked the rest of your shift with a kind of clinical efficiency, your mind already halfway out the door and stuck on the mountain of a man waiting for your text. You continued to collect your tributes, bills filling the straps of your dress.
As the clock ticked towards the end of the night, the club's energy shifting from a chaotic roar to a scattered murmur, you shot Ari a text, giving him an hour heads up. You gave your final dance, grinning with glee as you added it to the tally of bills, pulling the small plies from the straps of your dress, folding them neatly as you made your way to hand them over to Pete with a smug smile. You thankfully found it empty, keeping half of the stack for yourself and throwing the others down on the solid wood before moving quickly to grab your bag from the dressing room, not even bothering to change and beelined for the door.
The cold night wind wracked through your bones, but it didn’t bother you, because there at the end of the street, right by your dingy hotel room, was Ari.
He was propped against a sleek, one leg hooked over the other, black luxury car that looked way too expensive for this neighbourhood. His eyes lit up when they finally landed on you, taking a long drag of his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dark of the night. He was wrapped in a large leather jacket that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, filling the space around him. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, standing up straight, readying up to greet you.
‘’Had me worried there, Sugar. Thought you weren’t coming,’’ He teased as you got close enough, the night air carrying his words to meet the click of your heels.
‘’I’m two minutes late,’’ You laughed after checking the time on your phone. ‘’I had to walk. Not all of us own fancy cars,’’ You teased back.
‘’Yeah, in that,’’ He replied, referring to your dress. You grinned up at him as you finally stepped into his space. ‘’Are you insane? You’re gonna get yourself thrown into the back of van,’’
‘’Nah, not with you waiting for me…’’ You said with a playful poke to his chest. ‘’You’d save me right?’’
‘’I’d be the one taking you, princess.’’
‘’You promise?’’
Ari didn’t reply, he just shook his head with that gorgeous grin before he took the last drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke downwards before flicking it onto the concrete and crushing it beneath the sole of his boot. He then shrugged off his jacket, shaking it out. He loomed over you, the height difference was stark under the flickering yellow street light, leaving you feeling drastically small and exposed in a way that made your pulse thicken and a heavy ache set between your thighs. He held out the jacket, opening it ready.
‘’Come on, get this on before you freeze,’’ He coaxed sweetly.
You turned and let Ari slip the heavy leather over your shoulders, turning to face him slowly, his hands coming up cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing your skin gently. You raised onto your tiptoes, his height a decent foot above you despite the heels, as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. The roughness of his beard pricked at your skin, the taste of sweet alcohol on his tongue, the gentle heaviness of his touch invaded every sense.
“The things I’m gonna do to you…” He whispered against your lips. “Let’s go before I bend you over the hood of my car.”
You let out a small whine as he moved away to open the car door, holding it open and waiting for you to get in.
You slipped into the car, holding your breath as he reached in to buckle you in, his fingers grazing your skin. He shut your door and with a small jog, opened the other side and got in beside you, sliding into the driving seat; the car dipped slightly under his weight, making you hold in a small laugh.
He wasted no time, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.
The warmth from the heater soothed your cold-bit skin. The interior of the car was a welcomed cocoon of leather and luxury, the scent of his aftershave clung to the seats, filling the cabin. The seat was plush and warming up under you, soothing your aching legs. You reached down to unclap your shoes, pulling them off and wiggling your toes as the warm air blew over them.
‘’You can relax now, Sugar, you’re officially off the clock,” Ari spoke softly, sneaking a glance over at you as you stuffed your heels into your bag.
He reached down with his right hand, keeping his left on the wheel, and took the heavy bag from you and stuffed it between the car seats until it hit the car floor behind you. Rather than returning his hand to the wheel, it found its home on the meat of your thigh. His large palm basically covered the entire width of your legs, rough finger tips massaging at the skin.
You let out a sigh of relief and let yourself sink into the leather. You watched the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white, the hum of the engine became a soothing vibration underneath your bare feet and for the first time in a long time, you felt the tension in your shoulders begin to unravel; left to the dirt in the road under Ari’s car tires.
As Ari navigated the city streets, a comfortable but charged silence lingered in the cabin, heavy and thick. The anticipation of the night ahead set deep in your bones as his hand began to wander, stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thigh with a slow, rhythmic pressure. Every brush of his calloused thumb by the band of your underwear sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your head swim and your breath hitch. By the time the city lights began to disappear, driving into the dark of the night, you felt dizzy; your mouth dry and begging for something that definitely wasn’t water.
Your hand came up to rake your nails down his forearm, earning a gentle hum from the driver's seat.
‘’You feeling better?’’ Ari asked, soft and wondering, breaking the silence.
‘’Yeah,’’ You nodded, clearing your throat. ‘’I just can’t wait to be done with that place, be away from there– from him.’
‘’What’s going on? He’s not hurting you, is he?’’
‘’Depends on your definition of hurt,’’ You sighed ‘’Basically…’’
You gave Ari the quick run down, telling him everything from the contract, the clients, the con. You told him about how Pete made you feel, the propositions, the late nights and no rest. The debt, the arguments, the shitty hotel room and your plan to escape.
‘’Yeah, he seems the type,’’ Ari admitted simply. ‘’Pete’s a scumbag, a known scumbag,’’
‘’I thought you didn’t know him,’’ You quizzed with a raised brow.
‘’I don’t,’’ He said, glancing over at you. ‘’I know of him by just going to the club, never met him until that night up in the booth,’’ Ari explained, hand flexing on the wheel. ‘’And, I know men like him. Once you owe them, that’s it. You’ll owe them forever– There will always be something else, some other tacked-on bullshit sum, something you did wrong, or something you did right that belongs to them now. A vicious cycle.’’
‘’A couple more weeks and I’ll have more than enough to get out of here and away from him, and I’m running far.’’
‘’Yeah? What’s your plan, Sugar?’’
‘’I’m gonna go and sign a temporary lease on an apartment next week, pay in cash, not in my name,’’ You revealed. ‘’I’m gonna spend that time setting up a new job back home, I’m gonna hop on a flight and forget what happened this year. I never, ever wanna see Pete Brenner or high-platformed shoes ever again. I’ll never trust another man for as long as I live.’’
‘’You don’t trust me, Sugar?’’ Ari asked teasingly, looking over at you as he gripped your thigh with a playful pressure.
‘’Not one bit, but you’re a nice break from the usual type I spend the nights with,’’ You admitted.
‘’You fuck any of them?’’ He enquired bluntly, looking back out at the road.
‘’No,’’ You emphasized. ‘’I just dance, talk to them, give them a sense of having something; someone.’’ You looked out the window, taking in a breath before looking back at him. ‘’Most of them are just lonely. Weird, but lonely.’’
“You’re telling me you’ve never fucked any of them? Not a single one?”
“Nope.’’ You popped the ‘P’ as you watched your fingernails dance up and down his tanned forearm. “Not for their lack of trying, and there’s a few who are absolutely my type, but the situation puts me off. It never feels right… And I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, or Pete– Any of it.’’
“I’m the only one… That you’ve come close to, that is,” Ari grinned, teeth gathering his bottom lip slightly as he glanced at you again.
“Just you,” You nodded before laughing. “Oh, do not look smug right now.’’ You swatted his arm, earning a light tap to your thigh. “I don’t know what came over me that night.’’
“Oh, I did!” Ari abruptly said, gleeful and grinning wide. “I did that.’’
“Shut up and drive,” You groaned, giggling and shaking your head. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.’’
“You fucking loved it,” Ari teased, hand sliding up to cup between your legs, making you gasp and place your hand over his. “Gonna let me inside you tonight, Sugar?” He purred, voice dropping low as his fingers stroked gently. Your breath caught in your throat as you nodded. “Yeah? That’s my girl,” Ari cooed before sliding his hand back up to your thigh with a wicked smirk, watching and waiting for your reaction.
“Focus on the road before you kill us both,” You said breathlessly, swatting his arm lightly as he chuckled.
“Alright, alright,” He relented, turning his attention back to the road, but kept his hand heavy on your thigh.
The car fell into a comfortable silence once again. You kept your gaze out the window, the dark night giving away to an upscale neighbourhood. Large trees, trimmed hedges and sprawls of gated estates. You admired the houses, wondered about the lives of those who lived inside and found you couldn’t wait to see what Ari’s home looked like, and as soon as you had that thought, Ari steered the car and began ascending down a long, winding driveway lined with ancient oaks and stone pillars.
A heavy iron gate greeted you, the car slowing as Ari rolled his window down and reached out to punch in a code into a keypad. The gate groaned as it opened, admitting you both into another driveway that seemed to go on for miles longer. It was flanked by manicured hedges, fences and tall lampposts, evergreen grass illuminated under the white lights. At the end of the road, sat the manor. It stood grand and intimidating, almost like you weren't supposed to be here. It was a monolith of grey stone and ivy, the windows glowing with dim, amber lights. It looked less like a home and more like a fortress.
Ari pulled the car to a stop inside the circular dive, shutting off the engine and looking over to you with a soft smile and a comforting pat to your thigh.
‘’Welcome home, Sugar,’’ Ari honeyed before he opened his car door.
He stepped out, shutting the door with a thud that made you jump a little. You watched him as he walked around to your side, opening the door and offering out a hand. You unbuckled your belt, and hesitantly took his hand and stepped out into the cool night air, missing the warmth of the leather seats. The smooth asphalt was surprisingly comfy under your bare feet. The scale of the house loomed over you, imposing and almost mocking; like the house itself knew you shouldn’t be here. He kept a solid grip on your hand, keeping you grounded as he led you towards the massive oak doors.
Ari twisted the ornate knobs and pushed them wide open.
You stepped inside, following his lead, and all of a sudden, all quickly built anxiety left your body.
You were alone with him.
Inside his home.
You were alone.
As soon as he kicked the doors shut behind him, you didn't wait… You lunged.
You planted a bare foot against his thigh and used his broad shoulders to haul yourself up, practically climbing him like a tree. A low, guttural growl escaped Ari’s throat as he caught you, one hand planting itself on your ass and the other arm wrapping around your waist. He held you steady as he dropped his eyes to the floor as you smashed your lips together fervently, a mix of tongue and teeth; hungry and desperate.
‘’Impatient little thing,’’ Ari chuckled darkly into the kiss.
You stayed locked into a bruising, frantic kiss as Ari carried you into the main room of the manor.
The walls were lined with fancy artwork, baroque frames, vases and picture perfect furniture, but all you could see was Ari as he lowered you to a plush rug beside the hearth of a massive stone fireplace, the hearth acted as a dancefloor for flickering amber flames. The heat from the fire warmed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Ari. He knelt down in front of you, legs either side of your thighs as he tugged you up by his leather jacket, stripping it off you in a quick, fluid motion. He rid you off your dress with a rough and urgent hunger before pulling off his shirt and guiding you to lay back down.
He paused for a heartbeat, his heavy lids drooping as he took you in, his chest heaving with a slow, rhythmic breath; his hand slid down your bare body, slowly and achingly.
‘’Perfect’’ Ari mumbled, as if to himself.
He took his time, peppering kisses down your jaw, nipping at your ear, tongue travelling down the valley between your breasts; nipping at the skin of your stomach and hands stroking up and down your thighs. Your body thrummed with a heated anticipation, chest heaving and letting out little moans with every kiss and nip. The firelight casted amber shadows across your bodies as Ari settled between your legs, lifting them and holding them firmly as his eyes locked on yours.
‘’Keep your eyes on me, Sugar,’’ Ari husked before leaning down to press a kiss to your clothed cunt.
You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan as he pressed his tongue to the fabric, tip of his tongue pushing the rough fabric against your clit. Your fingers gripped the fluff of the rug as you fought the urge to tip your head back and shy away from the scene below.
‘’Fuck, Ari, please,’’ You whined, taking in little gasps as he pulled away slightly to rub his thumb in light circles over the fabric.
‘’Yeah, I know what you want, Sugar,’’ He rasped.
Ari sat up enough to slide his hand under the band of your thong by your hip, but rather than pulling them down, with a quick, rough tug, he snapped the band before repeating it on the other side and throwing the useless fabric to the side.
‘’Let’s see what other noises I can get out of you,’’ Ari posed.
With that he dove back between your legs, gone were the teasing circles of his thumb, the muffled touch of his tongue and instead it was replaced with a desperate eagerness. He knew where to press, how much pressure to apply, how to render you to nothing but a whimpering mess against the soft rug. Your fingers found your way to his hair, a heated chuckle rumbling against your core as he spurred on. His tongue lapping and circling at your clit, his fingers bruising into the meat of your thigh.
The world around narrowed down to the scent of the woodsmoke and the overwhelming sensation of Ari’s mouth.
Your cries and moans, the strings of curses and the chants of his name echoed through the open room, bounced off the high ceiling and etched themselves into the walls. Your toes curled into the rug as Ari released one of your legs to slide a large finger into you, the digit broad; stretching you to a point you didn’t know how he was going to fit anything else, but despite the worry, he slipped in another, curling them and pushing them in and out to ease the slight sting of the stretch. He worked his tongue in tandem with his fingers, stroking both bundles of nerves with a lewd skill, quickly bringing you to the edge.
When you finally broke, back arching and strung out moans, he held you down, refusing to let you pull away while he fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm until you were shaking and breathless. You were left as puddle, panting and breathless as he pulled back just an inch or two, peering at you with dazed, hooded eyes.
‘’One,’’ He rasped.
Ari didn’t give you a moment to question or recover before he dove back in. His tongue flicked and teased, fingers deep and rocking. He reignited the fire he had just stoked, enjoying pulling right to the edge before pushing you back down by chuckling with a dark mocking, pouting at your cries as he fucked you with his fingers through your frustrated tears. He was methodical and sadistic, continuously switching between coaxing you towards the edge, urging you on with filth.
‘’That’s it, baby,’’ Ari cooed. ‘’Gonna come for me again? Wanna come so bad, don’t you? Come on, Sugar, you can do it.’’
Just as your thighs would tighten he would pull his hand back and ease up the pressure of his tongue, laughing and giving mocking hums.
‘’Let me hear you, Sugar. Beg me–’’
‘’Please, please, please,’’ You cried out, gasping and pleading. ‘’Please let me come, please, Ari, please–’’
Ari got back to work, skillfully working his fingers and waving his tongue over your clit until you were finally hit by a second, blinding climax. You could’ve swore your soul left your body, your fingers dug harshly into his hair, earning a sharp hiss against your spit-slick cunt, as Ari continued to stroke his fingers deep inside you though the throws of your orgasm.
He finally pushed up from inside your thighs, sliding up your body with a slow, primal pace; his eyes dark and clouded with need. He suddenly stood up, boot-clad feet planted either side of your torso, his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his boots; one landing by a coffee table, the other landing on the hearth. He unbuttoned his pants, showing off a line of hair leading down and disappearing under the band of his boxers.
He reached down, his massive arms sliding under your back and thighs, hauling you upward and brought you close to his chest before he carried you a few steps over to a wide, leather sofa that looked like it would be suited for a museum. He dropped you with a heavy thud against the cool leather, sliding you by your calf so you laid down the cushions before he shucked down his jeans and kicked them off.
‘’Oh, fuck,’’ You gasped as you laid eyes on him.
His hand gripped the base of his cock, thick and heavy, stroking himself with a lazy motion as he scanned your already spent body and stepped closer to the couch.
‘’S’matter, Sugar?’’ He asked, playing like he was completely oblivious to the size between his legs.‘’I’mma make it fit, don’t you worry.’’
You let out a shaky breath as he joined you on the couch, one leg hung off the side as he settled once again between your legs, hooking one leg over his hip. The firelight danced across the ridges of his muscles and the broad expanse of his chest, casting him as a silhouette of pure, raw strength as he hooked a hand under your other thigh and brought it up to your chest. He took in a sharp breath as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, nudging at your clit the same way he did that night in the club.
‘’My turn now, baby,’’ Ari said, his voice a dangerous rumble. ‘’Don’t you think for one second I’m gonna be gentle, I wanna hear you cry for it.’’
There was no slow entry, no tentative testing of the waters. He drove into you with a sudden, almost violent force that punched a gasp out your chest and made your head fall back against the arm of the couch. His hand reached out to grip at your throat, fingers flexing against the column as he leaned down, taking a moment; resting his forehead against yours until you let out a small moan and nodded your head.
He grinned, eyes closing before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
Ari leaned up, hands moving to your hips, fingers digging into the skin to the point you knew you were waking with bruises in the morning, and you couldn’t find it in you to care one bit.
‘’You sure?’’ Ari checked in, finally sounded just as wrecked as you. ‘’Gotta tell me now, Sugar, because I once I start, not sure I’m gonna be able to stop.’’
You nodded, lost for words and walls clenching around his cock in a silent plea for him to finally move.
He sucked in a breath and you braced yourself and thank God, you did. He fucked you with a rough, punishing pace; the kind of sex that felt like an intimate moment between lovers and more like a driven conquest of a man gone mad. He fucked you like he was a man that had been starving for years, his thrusts deep, thorough and bruising. You cried out his name with each slam of his hips, gasping and clawing for air. He fucked you as if he was trying to claim you from in the inside out.
One of his large hands migrated from your hip and to your hair, hand winding in the strands to pull your head back so he could lean down and hide his face in the crook of his neck, sweat clad forehead meeting the skin. His breathing was heavy and ragged, each thrust driving deeper than the last; more demanding.
The room seemed to shrink around you; the only sounds being the crackle of the fire and sordid wet, slapping sounds of your bodies colliding. You were swept away in a storm of sensation, the roughness of it fueling your own desire. You clung to him, lifting your hips to take him as deep as you possibly could.
‘’Don’t stop, please don’t stop,’’ You moaned out against the skin of his shoulder.
‘’Don’t plan on it,’’ Ari moaned roughly, strung out and breathy.
The small jolts of pain when he would fuck into you a little too deep would mix with the revelations of pleasure when he would pull back ever so slightly to thrust shallowly until you were digging your nails into his biceps and crying out for him to carry on.
When he finally hit his peak, he let out a guttural broken moan, his hips stuttering as he continued to fuck you through is release before his entire frame tensing as he collapsed on top of you, his heavy chest heaving against you.
For a good while after, you stayed tangled up together, basking in the warmth of the fire. Ari eventually shifted, rolling onto his side but pulling you close until you nestled into his side, his arm draped over your waist as if he was trying to anchor you to the spot. His head lulled back onto the arm of the couch, eyes closed and breathing evening out. You studied his face, noticing the heavy-set tiredness around his eyes; weathered from the years gone past, how he had the odd grey streak hidden under the golden brown of his beard.
You swallowed toughly, your mouth dry and Ari peeked down at you, before rubbing your arm and untangling himself, getting off the couch to pull his boxers on.
You looked around the room as Ari made his way over to the massive mahogany bar, stocked to the brim with different bottles of assorted liquids, crystal decanters and glasses of various sizes. You eyed the grand staircase behind you, took in the smell of the beeswax that clung to the leather, the deep leather arm chairs that sat beside the couches. The whole room gave off a sense of masculine comfort, devoid of the frantic, desperate energy of the club which you were grateful to be rid of for the rest of the night and secretly hoping that Ari would offer a longer stay.
Ari walked behind the bar, grabbing two glasses and depositing ice from a silver bucket into them before plucking a bottle from the bar and pouring two fingers of a dark, amber liquid. He swirled the liquid in the glasses before heading back over to the couch, handing you your glass with a soft smile before sinking beside you and pulling you back into his arms. You sank into his hold, sipping out your glass as you watched the fireplace cast flickering orange streaks across the room.
The comforting crackles wouldn’t last long though.
Something just had to give.
‘’Debt is a funny thing to a man like Pete,’’ Ari said plainly, breaking the silence. Your head whipped up to find his blank stare. His voice was strange, suddenly devoid of any emotion, speaking out to the open air of the room. ‘’It's not about the money. It's never really about the money,’’ Ari offered, his voice dropping to a low, thoughtful rumble.
He reached out, his large hand sliding up and down your thigh, fingers grazing over your bare knee. His palm was warm, calloused and massive, taking up a large size of your thigh with every pass. There was a strange contrast between the light, open space of the room and the grounding, heavy weight of his tough. Ari tilted his head back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling idly, his expression growing strangely somber.
‘’It's about the chain. Once you owe a man like that, you aren't a debtor… You're an asset. They don't want the cash back, Sugar. They want the feeling of knowing they can call you at three in the morning and you'll come running because you have nowhere else to go.’’
‘’It’s really starting to sound like you know him well, maybe better than I do,’’ You laughed awkwardly, an uneasy feeling sitting in your gut. ‘’Why– Why are you bringing this up again?’’
‘’Just met one too many men just like him. The kind who loves when people tremble when they enter a room because then he gets to feel like he’s not the smallest person in there.’’
Ari took a swig of his drink, the silence in the room punctuated by the rhythmic crackle of the fire in the hearth. You watched the flames dance as you felt Ari’s hand increase its pressure ever so slightly, fingers massaging into the meat of your thigh.
‘’I don’t wanna talk about him anymore,’’ You sighed, placing your drink down on the side table next to the couch.
‘’I’m sorry,’’ Ari said, sounding earnest as softened his touch, stroking your thigh. ‘’Guy’s rubbed me the wrong way, s’all. I hate you have to put up with that.’’
The flickering orange light of the fireplace danced across his rugged features, softening the hard lines of his jaw and illuminating the weird vacancy in his eyes. The conversation about debt and power and men like Pete vanished. You searched his face as his eyes flashed with a dangerous, dark glint as a low, rumbling sound; a half-growl, half-laugh, escaped his throat.
‘’And, I wish I could say I hate how you’re gonna be stuck putting up with him for so much longer, Sugar.’’
The tension in the room shifted, from a steady, ravenous hunger to suddenly being charged with a sudden, volatile energy. It was like someone had set off warning sirens in your head, it ringing deafeningly in your ears. Your breath quickened as his hand smoothed up your naked body, pressure increasing gradually until he reached your throat; his large fingers wrapping around with just enough pressure to set in a stark reminder of just how much smaller you were compared to him. He leaned in until your lips were mere millimeters apart. His dark eyes bored into your soul, searching deep before a dark smile tugged at his lips.
‘’Where are you hiding the money, Sugar?’’
Before you had a chance to process the question Ari had asked, the sound of the heavy, oak doors opening with a slow, deliberate creak crept through the hallway. Slow, meticulous footsteps clicked against the floor; a familiar sound that made dread set heavy in your gut and bile rise in your throat. You stared at Ari with wide eyes before looking back to the darkened hallway.
Your world shattered when Pete stepped out from the shadows. He wasn't wearing the club owner's mask of greedy professionalism; he looked smug, his eyes scanning the scene of you tangled up with Ari with a cold, calculating glint.
‘’Oh, shit,’’ You whimpered, eyes wide and body trembling.
‘’Oh, shit, indeed, Sugar,’’ Pete crooned, grinning a mile wide. ‘’Where’s my fucking money?’’
༊*·˚ main materlist | pete’s place’s opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ pairings & future pairings:
pete brenner x female!reader.
lloyd hansen x female!reader.
ari levinson x female!reader.
curtis everett x female!reader.
steve rogers x female!reader.
jake jensen x female!reader.
(and others that will be revealed at a later date.)
word count: 9083 | series rating: explicit. ༊*·˚
warnings: implied abusive relationship, homelessness, alcohol, general sadness, advances, pete being a scumbag.
this is a dark au. minors are not welcome here.
✧.* ೃ⁀➷ notes:
two years later and the first chapter is finally here.
i really have missed you all dearly and i'm so excited to share this with you.
the second chapter will kick off the darker elements, but enjoy the set up! and i promise to not take two years to give you the second chapter.
as always, please tell me what you think, i really enjoy hearing your thoughts, opinions and guesses on whats coming up next.
adore you, mwah!!!
all mistakes are my own. already had to go back and take out a section. that's what i get for not separating my notes from my actual writing. whoops.
A year after you packed brown boxes scrawled with black ink, clothes stuffed into various bags, and the hope of your true love, into the back of your car, to move across the country to live with your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself one night in a heart pounding screaming match. Thrown dishes, broken glass, picture frames on the floor. The remnants of a lost love etched by the sounds of your cries into the tattered walls of the home you shared.
With pleading cries, tear stained cheeks, and heart in your throat, you’re grabbed and shoved out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, and shirt with a coat being darted at you whilst you laid on the ground. One too many hours were spent afterwards pounding your fists against the front door, begging to at least have your purse so you can get a hotel room.
Just as you were about to leave, looking down at your battered, red hands from pounding on the door, your purse dropped out of a window; the contents spilled onto the grass below. With a sigh, either sadness or relief; you weren't sure which, you bent to pick up your scattered belongings, cursing the man during.
Luckily, you had everything you needed; cash, ID, and your shitty, overused phone.
You called around for a cab, numb fingers shaking as you pressed the blurry numbers, but with it being Friday night, you were looking at a long wait so instead, you decided to cut your losses and walk to find the nearest hotel.
The downside of moving, and being essentially trapped within the same four walls for months on end, is that you quickly found yourself lost– and being lost on Skid Row was the last place you wanted to be. You willed your tears to not fall after you walked by tent after tent, stranger after stranger, clutching your purse tight, old keys spread between your fingers, and finally found yourself outside a rundown hotel. You laughed to yourself in disbelief of having to head inside and get a room; but nonetheless, you did just that.
Lying on a dingy bedspread, surrounded by more nicotine-stained walls, you muffled your cries behind your hands and slowly fell into a somber slumber and wondered just how the fuck you had gotten yourself here.
Over the next few days, you walked around, getting to know your surroundings and applying for jobs left and right. You were forced to ration your food while you looked around for cheaper hotel rooms. You were trying your hardest to avoid the sprawls of clubs begging for dancers but after finding yourself downtrodden as you’re dismissed after applying for yet another job and getting immediately dismissed, and it was then when you were suddenly blinded by a huge, purple neon sign:
Pete’s Place.
Underneath a small notice hung from the sign read: Dancers Apply Within.
You looked around and whined quietly while you watched patron after patron enter the club. Two heavily built doormen eyed you. You shook out your bundling nerves, hung your head and followed the thump of the bass into the belly of the seedy club. You handed over your last twenty bucks to the red-head woman that was sitting behind a platformed desk, smiling sheepishly and giving a small nod before pushing through the curtains that framed a doorway. Purple and blue hues guided you into the belly of the club where you found red booths filled with drunk bodies that circled small stages. Girls with perfect form swirled around the pole, capturing the attention of everyone inside.
‘’And who might you be?’’
You turned to find a man staring intensely, glass warm in hand, sharp suit and sea-blue eyes. Your mouth hung, mind blank for a moment before sputtering out,
‘’Oh, I– I’m looking for the owner– I was hoping to… Audition…’’ You trailed off as the man began to circle you, fingers pried away your coat slightly, gaze wandering over your body. Calloused fingers tilted your chin upwards while he inspected your face before a slight smile appeared on his lips. ‘’If you’re still looking for dancers.’’
‘’Oh, we’re always looking for new girls, Sugar.’’ He gave you another once over before grinning, voice low and honeyed, ‘’Yeah, you’ll do,’’ He concluded, hand dropping from your chin before he began to walk away. ‘’Follow me.’’
‘’I take it you’re the owner,’’ you inquired as you followed the man to the other side of the club and down a dimly lit hallway, smiling back at, what you assumed was, one of his girls. ‘’You’re Pete?’’
‘’That’s me,’’ he confirmed as you’re led into an office. ‘’Gonna need to see ID, need you to sign a couple contracts, and for you to take your clothes off,’’ he quickly fired as he sat himself in his chair and threw a small stack of paper across the table.
‘’Contracts?’’
‘’All my girls sign to stay loyal to the club, I don’t need anyone running off and taking my profits with them– helps limit competition, and I need to see what I’m working with here, you’re not exactly gonna be wearing a winter coat out there. Usually you’d come during the day, work the pole but, I got three of my regular girls out tonight, so it’s your lucky day.’’
‘’Oh,’’ You answer simply, pausing before a moment. ‘’Right, yeah, lucky me– Of course,’’ you stumble out as you reach into your pocket and slide your ID on to his desk before peeling your jacket off and taking in a heavy breath before lifting your shirt over your head and sliding down your skirt with shaking hands.
‘’You got any experience?’’ He asked simply.
‘’Uh, no,’’ You answered, kicking your skirt to the side, fussing with your hands due to having no idea what to do with them. ‘’I’ve never done this before.’’
You dropped your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. When you finally looked back up, Pete was lounged back in his desk chair, eyebrow raised with a slick smile on his face. He didn’t look disappointed, he looked delighted, like the idea of a novice seemed to amuse him. Pete stood with a long intake of breath, leaving his station and stepping around the desk and moving towards you with a slow, almost predatory grace. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander the same way he did, eyeing the well tailored suit that left nothing to the imagination, large biceps crinkling the fabric as he crossed his arms. You let out a small gasp as he began to circle you, hand reaching out to smooth down your back, fingertips ghosting your sides. The floorboards creaked with each footstep until he was standing back in front of you. He reached out a hand to pluck at your bra.
‘’Loose this,’’ he instructed casually.
You gave a shaky nod, reaching behind to unclip your bra, slowly letting it fall down your arms before it was discarded on the floor with the rest of your clothes. You eyed him shyly, unsure if you were wanting the ground to swallow you up or if you wanted him to reach out and touch you.
And touch you, he did.
The back of his hand stroked down your stomach, knuckles grazing the softness of your lower belly. Nerves began to take over, you felt yourself trembling a little, and you knew he felt it by the way his mouth poked up at the side. Although, he was very obviously attractive, the bile still rose in your throat when you felt a familiar warm ache tug at your legs.
‘’I-I’m a hard worker,’’ You said hesitantly, desperately needing to fill the silence.
‘’Hard worker,’’ Pete snorted, lips tugged up in a mocking smile. ‘’I don’t care about your worth ethic, Sugar. I care about the view.’’
‘’And?’’ You probed.
His hand slipped around to your back, pulling you in close as he stared down at you, eyes flickering across your face.
‘’Views are good,’’ He judged. ‘’You’ve certainly got a… Desperate innocence vibe going on. Guy’s are gonna eat that up.’’ He nodded as he stepped back, moving back towards the desk, propping himself against it. ‘’Here’s the deal: You’re gonna show me what you got, so I know whether you’ll need a few days with some of my best girls to work on those skills. Doesn’t mean you can’t work, but it means you’re limited to laps, and it’s just a bit less money. Base pay at the end of the week, tips are handed in and the house takes a cut and redistributed back to the girls. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you.’’
You stood awkwardly nodding, arms crossing over your chest which made Pete laugh.
‘’Drop ‘em,’’ He ordered, wagging a finger downwards. ‘’Just me and you, Sugar, how are you supposed to handle it being out there? Put ‘em down.’’ You complied as Pete carried on explaining: ‘’Pay the door, same way you did to get in, but my girls pay half to work. You gotta give to get in here, baby. VIP is for my more seasoned girls, better money, but we’ll talk about that further down the line. The contract…’’ He reaches behind himself to grab the small stack of paper. ‘’...Is so you understand that every single cent that your hand touches goes through me. No making deals with my clients, no outside work with the men that step into my club. That’s what VIP is for. There’s no need for you to be bent over in the back of some rented Bently, okay? You fuck me and you’re back on that street and you can’t go to any other club.’’
You nodded. ‘’Didn’t plan on it.’’
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised. ‘’Or, you will be, when you sign.’’
‘’So, I would start tonight?’’
He nodded and rattled the paper.
With some hesitancy, you took the paper and the pen that quickly followed and stepped around him to lean and sign the dotted line, looking back up to find him staring down at you. He slipped the contract off the desk and stood straight, moving around the other side to slide into a locked draw before grabbing his glass and wandering over to a small couch in the corner of his office. He sat down, thighs spreading open, gaze locked on yours as he took a long swig of the amber liquid that sloshed in the crystal.
‘’Come show me what you got, Sugar.’’
You let out a shaky breath, attempting to rid your body of the nerves, as you slowly stepped towards Pete’s open thighs. You turned in a fluid motion, hoping to God that it looked good, and lowered yourself onto his lap. Using the muted thumping from the club's belly, you began to wind your hips, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. The cigarette smoke that clung to his suit assaulted your senses, mixing with the alcohol on his breath, making your head spin. Your eyes closed, breathing unsteady as you continued your dance. You heard the soft thump of his glass being placed down and soon felt his fingers on your chin, guiding you to look behind.
Your eyes fluttered open and were met with his intense gaze. Your breath hitched as his hands then found your waist, helping to guide you into a better rhythm. He hummed low in his throat, taking in a deep breath as his other hand slid over your thigh, goosebumps following in a traitorous line.
‘’There we go, just like that,’’ He coached, voice low and breathy. ‘’Gotta look at ‘em, Sugar. Gotta make sure they feel like the only man in the world, but they don’t touch you like I am, okay?’’ You begged your heart to slow as his hand smoothed over your stomach, heavy and strong. ‘’You’re good, Sugar, but you’re not ready to be out on the pole yet. You gotta put in some work, gonna set you up with one of my girls.’’
He tapped your thigh and motioned for you to stand. He followed suit, getting to his feet and looking down at you. He swept a stray lock of hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ear.
‘’You can work tonight. You got anything to wear?’’
You shook your head. He let out a little laugh.
‘’Didn’t come very prepared, did you, Sugar?’’
‘’I– I used my last 20 bucks to get in here. I didn’t plan on coming in–’’
‘’You did what?’’ He questioned sharply, eyebrows raising. He sighed when you nodded your head.
‘’S’why I really needed this to go well. I promise I’ll get better–’’
‘’Yeah, yeah, I don’t care about that right now,’’ Pete cut off. ‘’Where are you staying?’’
‘’The hotel at the end of the street, the–’’
‘’Yeah, the shitty one. How long have you got the room for?’’
‘’Three more days,’’ You confessed.
The room suddenly felt smaller, the silence was heavy with the weight of him knowing the situation; with admitting just how fucked you were. You searched his expression, he didn’t look even the slightest bit sympathetic. He looked like he had just found a really good loophole in his contract that made a smirk tug at his lips.
‘’Totally broke? Not a dime?’’ He asked, and nodded his head and let out a slow hum of contemplation when you confirmed. ‘’Alright. I can help.’’
You reached down for your shirt as he walked to his desk.
‘’I can’t really have you sleeping on a park bench. I need my girls at their best, so, here’s what I’m gonna do.’’ He sat down at his desk, elbows resting on the wood, his gaze getting more intense as he lingered on you as you dressed.
‘’I’m gonna give you… An advance, you could say…’’ He trailed off, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a book and an envelope. He plucked a pen from a pot and clicked it before flicking open the ledger, and scrawling inside. ‘’I’m gonna take a little bit more of a cut until it’s paid off, but it means you can pay your door fee, you can eat, have a roof over your head and have a bit of time to work on those skills. It also means, you won’t actually have to work tonight if you’d rather rest up and spend the day practicing.’’
‘’Are you sure?’’ You raised a brow. ‘’Why would you–’’
‘’Consider it good faith, taking a chance,’’ He quickly interjected. ‘’Shows how sure I am that you’ll be one of my best.’’
There was a look in his eyes, predatory, and you weren't sure if he was throwing you a lifeline or a noose. ‘’What do you say, Sugar?’’
He held out the envelope. You hesitantly reached out for it, feeling like you were signing a deal with the devil. Your eyes locked on his as your fingers gripped the paper, an easy smile pulling at your lips in response to the smirk on his.
‘’’Atta girl.’’
You lowered your head, looking down at the dusty patterned carpet. The weight on your shoulders felt heavier than ever, but at least you could get a decent meal.
‘’I really don't have to work tonight?’’
‘’Nope,’’ He said, popping the ‘P’ and reaching over the desk to hook a finger under your chin as he stood, drawing your gazes back to each other. ‘’But, I wouldn’t mind a ‘thank you’.’’
He didn’t release his hold as he guided you around the desk, the smell of stale cigarettes, alcohol and a woody aftershave assaulting your senses again. Your heart kicked up speed, like someone had set off a tiny jackhammer in your chest, as you stepped into his space. You lifted onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, sucking in a breath and praying that it’ll be enough to please him. His touch moved to the side of your neck, his hand heavy and splayed across the column as he leaned down.
‘’S’that all I get, Sugar?’’ He teased, hushed and sickly sweet. ‘’Not got anything else for me?’’
You swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your mouth to speak, but nothing wanted to come out. You took to shaking your head instead and gripped the envelope tight and pushed it against his chest as you turned your head. Your eyes closed and shoulders sagged when he let out a laugh, dropping his head to your shoulder and releasing the hold he had on your neck.
‘’I’m fucking with you,’’ He chuckled darkly. ‘’Go on, get out of here before I decide to charge you for breathing the same air as me.’’
You stepped back, a small smile tugging at your lips and you reached for your bag from the floor.
‘’I’ll walk you out, actually. Need to check on my girls.’’
He walked to the door, swinging it open and motioning for you to step through. As you did, his hand found the middle of your back, heavy and guiding. The thumping base hit you as you walked back into the neon-lit chaos of the club, the night still in full swing. Pete nodded to several men on the way to the exit, hand slipping to your waist, pulling you close and keeping a tight grip and by the time the cold night breeze hit you, his warm palm was sitting on your ass.
‘’I’m gonna be here at twelve tomorrow, I want you here,’’ He instructed, guiding you to face him, his voice taking on a sudden professional coldness. ‘’Do not be late, hmm?’’
You nodded. His eyes scanned you one last time, sea-blue eyes still holding that uneasy glint that made your stomach turn and your toes curl.
‘’That’s my girl,’’ He praised with a tap to your backside before stepping away. ‘’See you tomorrow, Sugar.’’
You sucked in a breath and began your walk back to your hotel, the envelope weighing down your bag and filling your throat with bile. The neon sign buzzed in your ears as you watched the purple hue on the sidewalk fade. The rest of the walk was a blur, your mind filled with the flashing of lights, the booths of men, the smell of smoke and sweet drinks and the terrifying anxiety that clawed at your chest when you thought of having to sit in those men’s laps, strip down on a pole, vulnerable and exposed, for the sake of a roof and warm food; all while owing a man you’ve just met.
The next day, you made your way back to Pete’s Place.
The seedy club seemed less terrifying in the daylight. The neon sign hung unlit, the velvet red rope enclosed the open air and not the multiple bodies of men waiting to feast their eyes on women who couldn’t give a single shit about them, and Pete… Stood with his hand in his pocket, the other lifted to his lips as he took a long drag of a cigarette, eyes gleaming as he caught your eye.
‘’There she is!’’ He greeted, cheerful and honeyed. ‘’My new favourite, fresh and ready for the day. How’d you sleep, Sugar? Room booked for a little longer?’’
You nodded, ‘’All secured for the next two weeks, and I’m gonna go and get some groceries when I’m done–’’
‘’Yeah, sounds all golden, Sugar,’’ He laughed. ‘’One of my best is waiting inside for you. She’s gonna show you the ropes, how to shake that ass good enough to empty some wallets for me. I’m gonna come and see you in a few hours and see how you’re getting on and hopefully we’ll get you on that pole and not stuck in laps.’’
With that, he stepped out to the curb as a black Sedan pulled up.
‘’Off you go,’’ He ordered.
You nodded once again before heading inside of the club.
You searched the club’s belly for the woman but she was seemingly nowhere to be found until you made your way into the dressing room. The atmosphere was stifling despite it being empty. It stunk of hairspray, multiple different perfumes blending together and smoke. The vanities were a thing of chaos, make up strewed, rollers and different hair tools. Rails of sequins and fishnets and a wall of lockers that were decorated in different styles, showing off the aesthetics of each woman that owned them.
You turned to leave when you bumped into a woman, already kitted out in something Pete would absolutely have chosen, she gleamed brightly, seemingly genuinely happy to be here.
‘’So, you’re the new little lamb Pete picked up?’’ She asked sweetly, cigarette hanging from her lip and adjusting the band under her bust. She moved into the room and towards the railing of clothes with a grace and confidence you prayed to acquire as quickly as possible. ‘’I’m Rachael, Pete’s asked me to show you how to not get eaten alive tonight.’’
She plucked a simple, sheer black slip and held it out, ‘’Let’s see if you can actually move, or if you’re just a pretty little lamb.’’
After you changed you gave yourself a second, third and fourth glance over before she playfully rolled her eyes and pulled you out to the club floor and towards one of the smaller side stages. She left to flick on the club lights, shy under the sunlight that waved through the balcony windows and clicking around inside the DJ booth until the bass rattled through the floor. The polished chrome gleaned under the purple and blue lights, cold and intimidating as she made her way onto the stage. She demonstrated multiple moves with an effortless ease, her heels clicking softly against the platform floor, fluid and languid.
‘’You see, it’s not about dancing, not really,’’ She said as she swirled around, leg hooked around the pole. ‘’It’s about the tease. You never give it away all at once, you gotta make them ache for it. You gotta make ‘em think that if they throw just the right amount, they might just get a chance to touch you, have your attention.’’
You nodded watching her closely.
‘’Now, get up here and try a basic spin. Just copy exactly what I did.’’ Rachael slid down and stepped off the stage, motioning for you to step up.
‘’I’ll try my best,’’ You said earnestly.
‘’Your best doesn’t pay the bills, honey. Confidence and ass does.’’
You stepped onto the platform, the polished surface feeling slippery beneath your heels. You wrapped your hand hesitantly around the pole. You attempted the spin she had demonstrated, but instead of a fluid glide, your foot caught the edge of the stage and stumbled. You cursed yourself as she smiled and waved for you to try again which while the second attempt was better, the grace Rachael had exhibited was nowhere to be seen. She circled you like a hawk, eyes watching every move, often reaching out to make you arch your back more, to drop your shoulders, to reposition your legs.
‘’You’re like a newborn lamb, stop thinking about it so much,’’ She giggled, sweet and light until her tone suddenly turned serious. ‘’Never look them in the eye for too long. Makes ‘em think they own you. Keep it light, fleeting, make them chase it,’’ She coached. ‘’The pole is a tool, it’s your friend, use it to hide what you don’t like and highlight what you do like. Use it to your advantage. Do not fear it.’’
The next few hours passed in a blur of twirls, clicks of heels and red knees. Exhaustion clung to your skin, damp and slick under the spotlights, the sun dipping behind the clouds casting a golden glow into the club as you spun and dipped for the hundredth time, finally gaining some semblance of control of the cold metal. Rachael gleamed and squealed when you would find your footing, hit a dip in time to the music and get through at least a minute without a stumble.
You were trying to follow another of Rachael’s demonstrations when a familiar voice cut through the air and drifted its way over to the stage. Pete had returned, leaning against a pillar on the far side of the club floor, drink in hand and watching with an amused glint in his eyes, tracking you carefully.
‘’What a clumsy little thing you are, Sugar. Tell me, baby,’’ He said, a tinge of playful annoyance coating his words as he sauntered forward and towards the edge of the stage. ‘’You always like this or is it the thrill of being in my presence?’’
Rachael rolled her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
‘’She’s getting there, she’s just… A little cautious… Shy– It’s cute!’’ She defended, a sweet grin as she returned the kiss to Pete’s cheek and then looked back at you with a wink.
‘’I don’t need cute, I don’t need cautious. I can’t sell that,’’ Pete spoke, short and to the point. ‘’It doesn’t make me money. Desire does.’’
He made his way to the base of the stage, looking up at you. The spotlights casted deep shadows across his face, making his eyes seem black. You let out a breath as he eyed, not as a person, but as a product that was ineffective. He rapt his knuckles on the platform floor, his voice dropping,
‘’Get down here.’’
You practically leaped from the platform, steading yourself on his arm as your footing faltered, your chest heaving from a mix of exhaustion and nerves. Up close, the scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning as he pulled you in closer. He looked you up and down, shaking his head with a disappointed frown. You couldn’t help the shakes that swam under your skin as he peered into your eyes. He walked you back slowly, the back of your thighs digging into the edge of the stage.
‘’Look at you,’’ He began to scold gently. ‘’Shaking like a leaf, like you’re waiting for the firing squad rather than a paycheck.’’
Pete then reached up a hand, finding the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the dip at the base of your skull, forcing you to keep your gaze on his. The amusement was long gone and replaced by a demanding, icy intensity. He leaned his head down, breath hot against your cheek.
‘’The men that come through those doors do not pay for ‘nervous’. They pay for a fantasy. A fantasy of a woman who knows exactly how to drive them crazy. If you walk out there looking like a lost puppy, they’ll smell the fear, they’ll take advantage, and then you’ll owe me for that nice advance I gave you and I’ll want it in full and I know sure as shit…’’ He leaned down further lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered in your ear. ‘’You don’t have it, and we’ll have to work something else out, won’t we?’’
He released you abruptly, and you fell against the edge of the stage, willing the tears to stay at bay as he stepped back and guested at Rachael and then towards the stage.
‘’Keep working her. I want her ready.’’
The next two hours were full of exertion, exhaustion, sweat and damn near tears until it finally came time to go back to your hotel to rest up for your shift. Rachael seemed happy with where you managed to get to, she had taught you how to use your shyness as a weapon, how to perfectly arch your back and how to breathe through the nerves but whether Pete would end up sharing the same feelings was still to be determined. Your muscles ached and cried out with each step back to your hotel, palms raw from the friction of the pole, and the fear of ending up on the street sat heavy in your stomach along with the feeling of feeling less like a woman and more like a piece of property, catalogued and highly priced.
The night swept in with a heavy tension, the club hummed; scattered voices from the line outside as you walked through the front with a nod to security and a crisp ten slipped into the hand of the woman on the door. You shucked up your bag higher on your shoulder, watching as the staff at the bar moved with a frantic energy, attempting to keep up with the hoards of men tapping their fingers for a drink while their eyes leeched on the dancers at the pole.
You made your way to Pete’s office, rapping your fingers on the doorframe and smiling when he looked up at you with a grin.
‘’Hey, Sugar, what d’ya need?’’ He asked, stepping from around the back of his desk and moving towards the door.
‘’Is it okay if I borrow an outfit for tonight? I didn’t get a chance to run and grab anything– Maybe a pair of heels as well?’’
Pete nodded, ‘’Yeah, take what you want from the rails in the dressing room, shoes are underneath. Just make sure they’re returned or I have to charge you for it.’’
‘’Thanks,’’ You replied sweetly.
Pete then pressed his hand to the small of your back, leading you towards the dressing room. The girls were in full swing, the clatter of make up and the clicking of straighteners and curlers mixed with their laughs and banter as they applied finishing touches.
‘’Alright, my lovely ladies, this is Sugar,’’ Pete addressed loudly, adopting the nickname he gave you as your dancer name without giving you a chance to argue about it. ‘’She’s the newest addition. Be nice, look after her, she’s a shy one… And get out there and make me some money.’’
You felt cornered as the other dancers scanned you from head to toe, receiving a mixture of curiosity, warm welcome and cold competition. You wrung your hands together as Pete stepped away to grab an outfit from the rack, bending to snag a pair of shoes and walking back over to you. It may as well have been a collection of strings rather than an outfit; baby pink and covered in sequins.
‘’You’ve got twenty minutes and then I want you on that stage,’’ He ordered, firm but oddly sweet. ‘’I’ll be watching from the balcony booths so don’t fuck this up, alright, Sugar?’’
You hummed in agreement as he bent down, presenting his cheek to which you quickly pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Pete grinned and gave a wink, and without saying another word, he laid a soft tap on your ass and walked out the door, leaving you with a tightness in your chest and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You walked to a spare vanity, setting your bag down and started at the reflection, finding a girl you barely recognised anymore. Even more so once you had changed, the baby pink set Pete had chosen, clung to every curve and valley, and left nothing to the imagination. The soft colours contrasted painfully with the dark circles of fatigue which you had tried your best to cover with multiple swipes of concealer.
You wondered if this is exactly how Pete wanted you; looking like a daydream on the verge of a deep, dark nightmare.
‘’Hey,’’ A voice spoke, drawing you away from your thoughts, and you looked up to find a woman standing behind you, a smile on her face and dressed in green. ‘’He’s really trying to push the ‘barely there’ look tonight, isn’t he?’’
You nodded, a shy smile on your face as you smoothed down the outfit.
‘’I’m Crocki. Like, crocodile. Pete found a stuffed crocodile in my bag once– totally forgot it was there, and hasn’t let me live it down since,’’ She laughed, genuine and comforting. ‘’Just do your job, keep him happy and you’ll have no issues. Most of the girls here are really nice. They just wanna make their money and dip. It’s not all bad, okay?’’
You nodded again, struggling to find the words to speak, nerves were eating at your vocal cords and tugging at your throat.
‘’I’ll see you out there, you’ll be great, don’t worry,’’ Crocki reassured, giving a comforting rub to your arm before disappearing out of the dressing room.
The other girls soon left, leaving you on your own. You took another minute to breathe deeply, eyes closed; the thumping of the lion’s den pounded in your ears.
The transition was jarring to say the least; one moment you were safe in arms of bulb lights, perfume and mirrors and the next you were willing your footing to not falter as you stepped into the club’s belly, the music shifting and deepening into something primal, visceral. The lights were a bruised purple, the smoke from cigars and cigarettes acted as a map to the men huddled around the stages and perched in the booths. It merged into a hungry roar and you were the meal.
High above the main floor, a singular familiar figure leaned over the railing, elbows propped against the metal, swirling a drink with keen eyes locked on your every move. Pete gave you a grin, nodding towards the stage, that predatory glint on full show; it crawled over your body like a physical touch, sending a shiver down your spine and forming a lump in your throat.
You made your way to the stage as another dancer collected the cash from the floor, the crowd dying down a little as the smell of alcohol, flashing lights and the sea of hungry eyes waited in a subdued anticipation as you climbed the steps and clicked onto the stage. You smiled weakly at the dancer as she passed you and gave one last glance at Pete before gripping the pole.
A heavy, industrial beat slammed into the room, the bass rattling the panels of the stage as your body began to react to the rhythm. The sequins caught the strobe lights, sending shards of glitter and gold dancing on the floor and faces of the crowd. You focused on the pole, remember your tutelage, hiding your sloppy footwork behind the pole and using it as a grounding point amidst the chaos, spinning and arching your back.
The atmosphere shifted to expose a raw hunger, men leaned forward, their eyes fixed on your every move. You earned whistles, dollar bills and captivated silences from others. You dared to glance again up at the balcony, finding Pete still stood in the same spot, watching you with an intensity you just couldn’t pinpoint, the cigarette in his hand glowing a cherry-red as he took a deep drag and blew out the smoke slowly. It didn’t seem like he was looking at you like just another dancer; more like an investment he was ready to wring out for as much cash as possible.
The next song started, giving you no time to recover, switching to a slower, haunting ethereal pull. The lights dimmed a bit further, the purple lights casting a shadow across your body which helped you feel more hidden. You relaxed a little, finding a hidden ease in the slower, more languid movements. You transitioned into a slow descent on the pole, body arching, a softness that was stark against the grit of the club. The air felt thick and charged as you locked eyes with Pete once again, a smug satisfaction written across his face as he stubbed out the cigarette and took a swig from his glass.
As the song reached its end, you gave a slow swirl around the pole with a lingering, new found seductive grace, and slowly dropped to your knees. Your chest rose and fell heavily, hand still gripping the pole as money rained and Pete grinned. He didn’t move an inch, his stare was like a physical weight, like he was claiming every inch of your skin by his force of will.
You stayed in that pose for a short moment, before getting to your feet, and quickly scooping up the bills. You didn’t dare to give another look towards Pete as you left the stage. The adrenaline hummed through your veins, crumpled bills sticking to the sweat of your chest as you made your way back to the dressing room to have a moment to gather yourself before heading back out to the floor.
The transition from the blinding lights, to the grim reality of the backstage area was discordant and bleak, but the weight of the cash in your hands felt like a small victory, one worthy of essentially selling your soul. The other dancers glanced with small smiles and nods of newfound respect. As you reached your locker to stow your earnings until the end of the night, the door to the dressing room opened with a slow, deliberate creak. The girls quickly cleared out, pressing kisses and giving hugs to Pete as they exited.
He stood in the doorway, suit jacket hung over his arm, hair disheveled and shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, his large biceps bulging under the thin fabric as he crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. He looked less like the shady business man you met the night before and more like a predator who had decided to stop watching and start pouncing. He didn’t say anything at first, simply stared at you, eyes seemingly peering through you and the way you clutched the money in your hands.
‘’Quite the show, Sugar.’’ His voice was low, dangerously sweet. ‘’Didn’t know you had it in you. Proves hard work pays off when you really want something.’’
He stepped into the room, the click of his shoes sounding like a countdown. He stopped just inches away, his presents suffocating and overwhelming; the scent of bourbon and expensive tobacco enveloping the air around you both. He reached out, fingers sliding under your chin to keep your gazes locked.
‘’You enjoy the attention, baby? The money make you move like that?’’ He asked in a hushed tone, breath ghosting your cheek. ‘’You playing me, Sugar?’’
You shook your head, ‘’Beginners luck, I guess.’’
Pete let out a soft, dark chuckle. The grin didn’t reach his eyes as he grazed your lower lip with a gentle, but possessive pressure.
‘’Beginners luck,’’ He parroted, husky and contemplative.
He didn’t release the hold on your chin; his grip tightened, ensuring you couldn’t escape his eyes. It was heavy, stripping you bare more effectively than the skimpy bundle of strings of your costume ever could. He seemed to be savouring the simplicity of your answer. He then shifted his weight, pushing you back against the cool metal of the lockers. The heat from his body crept over your skin, pricking at your senses as he leaned down, his voice barely a whisper.
‘’You’re a terrible liar, baby. I saw the way you looked at them; saw the way you looked at me.’’ His lips grazed your ear, his other hand gripping at your waist, bringing your middles together, eliciting a muted gasp that settled in your throat. ‘’You played the room, the hunger… And now, you’ve got me wondering how much more of that ‘luck’ you have hidden away.’’
He looked down at your hand as he stepped back, his expression shifting to something more demanding; the softness vanishing and replaced by the cold authority of the man who owned your entire being.
‘’Hand it over, Sugar,’’ He commanded, gesturing to the cash bundled in your hand, palm up and waiting.
You placed the money in his hand and sighed as he counted the bills with a rapid, well seasoned motion, eyes flicking over the amounts. The soft snap-snap-snap of the bills drummed in your ears and drowned out the muted thump of the bass as you waited with bated breath to see how much your cut would be.
Once he reached the total, he folded the bills and stuffed them into his pocket and then reached out to pull a smaller, measly stack from the other, holding it out to you with a satisfied grin. You took it, splaying out the few bills between your fingers, a lesser amount than what would even be considered a fair pay, but regardless of your feelings you looked up and smiled with feigned gratitude.
‘’I had to deduct your newcomer's fee, and the prime slot on the main stage, of course,’’ He said casually, arms folded across his chest again, he watched for your reaction with a cruel sort of curiosity. ‘’An investment in your future here. You understand, right, Sugar?’’
You nodded with a strained smile. He didn’t wait for you to say anything else, he turned his gaze towards the door, checking you were still alone, before he looked back at you with that same predatory, hungry gaze.
His voice dropped to a low, purr. ‘’You’ve got a lot of potential, Sugar. I can’t wait for the day I get to be on the receiving end of it.’’
He reached out again, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you flush against him for one last, possessive moment. He lingered, nose brushing against your temple, taking in a small inhale and making your heart jump in your chest.
‘’Get back out there, Sugar.’’
Pete released you abruptly and sauntered out the room, door clicking shut behind him. The tension that had brewed broke instantly and you exhaled sharply, unaware of the breath you had kept clutched in your chest. The silence in the room felt a thousand tons heavier than the atmosphere on stage, the few bills in your hand felt like a slap to the face; the feeling of the effort you had put into being stage-ready felt wasteful and sour. You wondered if this was going to be worth it, if you should keep putting all you had into pleasing a man who wanted you rob you blind and keep your livelihood wrapped in his hands.
You were pulled out your thoughts by a group of dancers making their way back into the dressing room, some giving empathic glances.
‘’Welcome to Pete’s Place, babe. Hope you like pennies,’’ She said simply, a tight smile on her lips.
Another was re-applying her eyeliner when she spoke; ‘’Don’t let him see you cry. It’s like he smells it, like a shark.’’
She didn’t offer anything else; in this place, empathy seemed to be a luxury only a few could afford. They all continued their routines like the small conversation never happened, the sounds of brushes and small talk the only sound in the room. You stuffed the cash in your bag, shutting the locker with a frustrated slam before sucking in a sharp breath and heading back out into the club.
A few hours later, after spending the rest of the night in laps and grinning sweetly at horrible men, you moved in front of your locker as you changed, movements mechanical as if all parts that were human had been stripped away and shoved inside a box. As you pulled on the clothes you had arrived in, you felt a cold knot forming in your stomach; the desperation that had dragged you through the club's doors was starting to form into a quiet rage.
As you stepped out of the club and into the night's cool air, the neon sign flicked overhead and the meager amount in your pocket laughed at you as you sulked back to the dingy hotel room. The click of the lock sounded like a gavel, finalizing your sentence of struggle. You slid down the door, the cold wood pressing against your spin as you melted into an exhausted puddle. You stayed there for a while, staring down at the carpet, breath coming out in ragged hitches as the adrenaline of the night wore off.
You looked down at your shaking hands as you mulled over the contract, the debt, the sick smile on Pete’s face— his hands, his arms, his smell. You groaned and covered your face with your hands, hating how he continued to invade your thoughts despite the hatred that pooled in your guts.
With the adrenaline long gone, it left behind the crushing weight of exhaustion. You let out a long, suffering sigh as you got to your feet. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that your first big night wasn’t just a hurdle to get over, but the beginning of a slow, wretched descent into Pete’s sordid world.
The following weeks were a blur of exhaustion and frustration. Every night followed the same pattern: the blinding lights, the squeak of the pole, the hungry eyes; the exhilarating rush of the dance, the red knees, bruises and blisters and the crushing disappointment at the end of the night when Pete handed you your pitiful earnings. Pete became increasingly bold with his touches, promises of bonuses were always tied to how much you were willing to tolerate his advances in the office, and having to deal with his monetary retaliations when you refused.
The heavy bass vibrated under your feet, tickling your toes through your high-platform shoes. Your hands clutched at the cold, silver pole as you delicately swirled yourself around. The past few weeks your skills had improved; although, not enough according to Pete; though you were dead sure that his thoughts were an excuse to pull you into his lap for impromptu lessons.
You kept your gaze loose, swinging from patron to the girls sat in laps with glowing smiles and fingers twirling through their hair as the grasped dollar bills. Blue and purple hues danced over your body as your hips swayed the best they could in time to the beat as you prayed for the song to finally be over.
The interest in you was dwindling; the allure of a shiny new girl was fading fast and you were no longer receiving tips just for being there. You knew it wouldn’t last forever, but you damn sure hoped it’d last long enough to pay your bill at the hotel. You had five days to come up with three hundred bucks, and by the measly few dollar bills in your pocket and the couple of fives on the floor; things weren’t looking good.
You made your way into the dressing room after your set, finding girls in various stages of getting ready and touching up their hair and walked over to Rachel's chair.
“Can I talk to you about something?” You asked, standing behind Rachel's chair.
“Yeah, anything, babe.”
She set her brush down and turned back to face you.
“I know I need to get better on stage, but how did you get Pete to let you into the VIP section?”
“You have to pay, didn’t he tell you that?”
“Yeah, I know that, but he keeps wanting me—“
“Oh, yeah, you need to pay him. Treat him well, look after him…” She trailed off as you looked completely lost. “Head, Sugar. The man wants head. Just do it. You’re gonna be doing more than that in VIP.”
“I thought it was just more private—“
“Nooo. No, no, no,” She snickered, grinning brightly. “They want more than just a dance, which is why you’ve gotta pay Nick to get through the door because they have to work harder to keep you safe.”
“I have to pay security?” You whined, throwing up your hands. ‘’Am I gonna have to start paying to breathe?’’
“Pay, tip, all the same. He’s really explained none of this to you?”
You shook your head as she gave an empathic smile before tapping your arm as she passed you to leave to go out the club floor. You stood for a moment, trying to find any other way to survive the next week that didn’t require sulking into Pete’s office and grovelling for another loan. You let out a pained groan when you realised you had no other choice.
You trudged into Pete’s office, heavy heels weighing down your steps as if trying to pull you back from your impending doom.
‘’Pete, I have a favour to ask,’’ You spoke sweetly as you stepped into his office.
‘’Shoot,’’ Pete replied, sorting through papers on his desk, brows knitting together as he discarded one after another, letting out huffed sighs. ‘’Quickly, now. Things to do,’’ Pete prompted sharply.
‘’I– I don’t have enough for rent– Well, the hotel bill–’’
‘’You’re still there?’’ Pete paused, eyeing you with a slight disgust. ‘’Why are you still there?’’
‘’Yeah, it’s cheap and no point wasting time finding somewhere else,’’ You explained, sighing and wringing your hands. ‘’I was wondering if you’d let me work in the VIP section, the girls said they make more money–’’
‘’Not happening,’’ He cut in sharply, pulling on his suit jacket.
‘’Why?’’ You asked, feeling already defeated and slightly offended.
‘’Because you refuse to do what the other girls do in order to work in VIP,’’ He snorted, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a familiar envelope. ‘’Gotta treat me like a VIP to get to the VIP’s, Sugar.’’
‘’I really need the money,’’ You pleaded.
‘’Work harder,’’ Pete said bluntly. ‘’Learn how to actually dance, you’ve gotten better, but the shy, innocent, little baby out of place act isn’t gonna get you far, it doesn’t last long–’’
‘’Yeah, I know,’’ You muttered under your breath.
‘’What was that, now?’’ He questioned, making you shrink as if you were a child that had just been scolded and before you could say anything else, he waved a hand; ‘’Doesn’t matter. Look, you’re no good to me if you end up on the street and get swiped and thrown into a van, so I guess I can loan you the money.’’
‘’Thank you,’’ You gushed, rushing over to him and placing your hand on his forearm. ‘’Thank you so much. I swear, I’ll work it off for free–’’
‘’I’ll just take a higher cut until you’re paid up. Not much good to me either if you don’t have the energy to stand on the stage and do whatever it is you do. And it means you can spend more time here working on your skill… Oh, do you need more lessons, sweetheart? I’m always available for practice, you know that, right?’’
‘’I just need to work on my confidence, but thanks for the offer, Pete,’’ You said earnestly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and taking the envelope. ‘’And thank you for the money. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’
‘’Oh, you’re not done. It’s barely 1 A.M.’’ Pete huffed out a short laugh, hands stuffed in his pockets.
‘’I’m really tired and I’m just not getting any attention,’’ You replied, exhausted and pouting to hopefully gain a little sympathy.
‘’So work for it,’’ He commanded and guided you out of the office and departed with his usual tap to your ass.
You parted from him at the dressing room doorway, watching him as he disappeared into the club, the money feeling sickly heavy in your hand. You huffed as you sat in your hair, stuffing the cash into your bag and shoving it under your vanity.
‘’My advice,’’ Crocki said, matter-of-fact but sympathetic. ‘’Stop borrowing money from a man that already underpays you. There’s better things you can do.’’
‘’You can always find work on the side,’’ Alexa said, fiddling with a curl that wouldn’t sit just right.
‘’I thought we couldn’t go to any clubs. None of the restaurants or anything I can do during the day want to hire me. I mean, I get it, all I have are stripper outfits and a leather jacket,’’ You huffed as you threw down your makeup brush, smoothing out the edges of your eyeshadow with your finger.
‘’Not talking about another club, not talking about waitressing,’’ Alexa laughed. ‘’The girls do home visits, parties, entertainment; others do more. You just gotta talk to Pete, he sets it all up.’’
‘’I don’t think I could do that, I can barely give a lap dance, and plus, I asked about VIP, he won’t let me unless I sleep with him.’’
‘’He ain’t bad in bed,’’ Rachael smirked, hand on the back of your chair as she popped her hip, her brow jumping teasingly.
‘’I sleep with him for free,'' Navy cut in, giggling as she joined Rachael, smoothing a finger over her lip gloss.
‘’I did not need to know that,’’ You groaned, a little laugh. ‘’Seriously, how am I supposed to be alone with these men?’’
‘’Because here you’re surrounded by people, you’re both watching and being watched. You might find it easier within the privacy of someone's home. You could make some serious money,’’ Alexa explained, standing and fluffing her hair.
‘’Come on, we better get back out there,’’ Crocki probed, shooing you up and out of your seat.
It was on a rainy Tuesday night that an opportunity presented itself in the form of a man who eyed you all night. You were finishing a slow, grinding set when the man dressed in a charcoal suit with a look of wealth and hunger in his eyes approached the edge of the stage as you were collecting the cash. He didn’t toss any himself, but he leaned in with a low, urgent plea:
‘’You’re breathtaking,’’ He breathed hotly. ‘’I have a private booth, if you want to join me. I can pay you for your time, more than whatever that boss of yours would give you.’’
You contemplated, knowing the rules were explicitly clear: No off the book dealings. Then you thought of the dwindling cash in your pocket, your overdrawn account and the money you already owed Pete. You knew it was risky, but you found yourself offering a different deal.
‘’Not here. Write down your address and I’ll come get it from you after I give a few dances,’’ You instructed quietly and then motioned for the man to leave.
The man nodded frantically, excitement crossing his face and his gaze lingering on your body before he stepped away, blending into the crowd and up to the balcony booths. You navigated to the dressing room with a sharp focus, not paying any mind to the other dancers as you quickly stuffed the cash away and made your way back into the club and passed the time on a few laps before making your way up to the man. He slid his address in with a wad of twenties and you spent a song or two in his lap before rushing to change and leave.
You hailed a cab and met him back at his apartment.
With that single night, that simple exchange, began your secret hustle– right under Pete’s nose.
The following weeks became a dangerous dance of their own. You honed your art of your side hustle. You began to keep a mental note of regulars that eyed you with the specific, desperate hunger; the ones who had more money than sense and a certain distaste for Pete’s heavy-handed management. With folded bills containing addresses and phone numbers, the whispers of something more and thick envelopes pressed into your palm at the end of your nights, your stash began to grow.
You had to be careful how you spent your money, having excuses at the ready when you showed up with new outfits and shoes, passing it off as second-hand or cheap online purchases. For the first time in a long time, you felt a shred of agency; you were no longer having to beg, no longer having to be a victim of Pete’s scraps– you were creating a life of your own. However, the risk grew with every encounter, having to be wary about where you met them, how you kept in contact, keeping yourself hidden from them inside the club.
The most dangerous part though, wasn’t the logistics; it was the change in your own demeanor. As the list grew, so did your confidence. The desperation that once made you easy to intimidate was quickly replaced and you started to look at Pete with a secret, mocking amusement and no longer with fear.
Friday night was a blur of shimmering pale blue lace and the suffocating scent of cigars. Pete had suggested the outfit, claiming he just knew the attention it would attract and sadly, he was right. It drew in a specific breed of predatory men. You felt less like a dancer and more like a piece of sordid art that was subjected to lingering touches and hungry whispers. You spent time moving booth to booth, lap to lap, your movements fluid and hesitant, playing your usual role of the trembling innocent to practiced perfection while counting the seconds until the night was over.
As the night progressed, you made your way back downstairs, heading over to the bar to grab a drink of water when you caught the eye of possibly the most gorgeous man you had ever seen; the kind of man people wrote about, the type that you thought couldn’t possibly exist.
The man was an absolute mountain of a human being.
He had to be an easy six-foot-nine, he towered ridiculously over the other men at the bar, his broad shoulders blocking out the purple lights behind him, casting a halo around him. His open flannel showed off his tight black shirt, stretched thin over his muscle. His face was set in a stony, grumpy expression until he noticed you were looking right back at him which made him break out in a grin as you stepped closer to him. You took in the thick beard, long hair and sucked in a sharp breath as a warmth spread over your stomach.
You smiled shyly up at him and offered out your hand to him, and happily let yourself be guided into his space as he spoke in a low rumble which vibrated in your chest.
‘’You’re the new one,’’ He stated, wetting his lips as he pulled you closer.
The smell of expensive sandalwood and aged leather clung to him, making your head spin as he leaned down to hear you in the deafening noise of the club.
‘’Hi,’’ You said breathlessly, ‘’I’m Sugar.’’
‘’Hi, Sugar,’’ He replied, voice gravelly and honeyed. ‘’I’m Ari.’’
Who would be interested in some mafia!omegaverse fic? It would be starring Steve Rogers, Lloyd Hansen, Ari Levinson, and Nick Fowler (with some Bucky x Sarah Wilson on the side)
I know it’s short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! 💞
“...Some people call me the space cowboy…” the guitar riff plucks familiar chords. “Some call me the gangster of love.”
You cringe and rub your temples. Not again.
You get up and storm out of the room. You can’t handle another day of it. He could at least pick some music produced in the last two decades.
You shriek at the sight that greets you. Cheeks. Too much cheek and too much hair.
“Oh god, Lloyd!” You exclaim.
He stands up and swings around. You put your hand up, catching a quick glimpse of his thong. Yeah, it’s barely doing much for the front either.
“Where are your clothes?” You demand.
“In the wash. I just worked out.” He wiggles a small comb at you. “Dropped this.” He uses it to brush the stiff hair above his lip.
“Can you please put something on and turn down the music?” You holler.
“You said make myself at home.”
“No, I told my sister she could stay. You followed.” The speakers pump enough to make your ears throb. “Turn the music down!”
“Huh?” He makes a face then shrugs. He reaches down and peels down his thong, standing up proudly. “That better?”
“Ew! No! The music! THE MUSIC!” You cover your eyes.
“Relax,” he sneers and the volume falls. He approaches you and you blindly back up. He catches your wrists and shoves your hands down. You yipe. “Really, I thought you said “pull my pants down.” And seeing as I’m not wearing any…”
“No. Never!”
“Hm. Well, we’ll see if sissy believes that so… why don’t we just agree that I’ll put the toilet seat down and you’ll…” He steps closer and rubs his naked dick against you. “Don’t tell sissy you’re trying to get in my g-string.”
Warnings: This has nonconsent and somnophilia. Please do not read if these elements or any dark elements make you uncomfortable.
Character: Ransom Drysdale
Summary: you continue to terrorize Ransom.
Please reblog if you enjoy and leave some feedback! Muah 💋
"I'll park myself," you tell the valet as you pull up to the venue Gail chose. That's another 'expense' but you know she's cozy with one of the property managers. You should ask her discount, not that you have any use for it. It would be more to make a point.
You roll up the window and tap the play button with your thumb. The bluetooth continues. Ransom's deep groans rise from the speakers. The heavy breaths and slap of flesh has you squirming.
"Shit, shit, shit." He rasps out just before you shut off the engine.
You untether your phone and drop it in your leather clutch. As always, simple is best. You get out and shake out the wide legs of your pant suit. Classy. One piece with a crisp collar.
You strut up to the front door and accept the glass of champagne from the staff member awaiting you. You deposit your donation at the front along with the gift basket and continue into the gala. Ugh, these things are boring.
You put the champagne down untouched. You flick the moisture from your fingertips and stop to greet Meredith, an insufferable socialite that cackles with your mother over wine. She's already red from imbibing.
You continue on with no real goal to the night. You'll make your appearance and report back home. Not like anything new ever happens.
You pluck a truffle from the large gold platter; the first to be touched. These women never eat very much but order more than enough to feed the city. You bite into the dark cherry center as you look around.
You recognise the trilling laugh. Siobhan wears a silver blue dress that goes just past her panties and pair of strappy heels. She leans on a man as she pets his sleeve.
You stare at Ransom as his hand rests on her hip, right above her ass. You tilt your head. He ghosted you the last few days. You didn't truly think he'd show up. You overestimated his pride.
He glances around and your eyes meet. You raise your brow and suck the rest of the truffle into your mouth. You lick your fingertips shamelessly. He frowns and turns back.
You go to the bar and order a scotch. You take your drink and continue your progress through the room. Monty wants you to tell your father he'll see him on the green and several women ask about your mother's next tea party. Funny how little tea you see at those things.
"Hey, hey," Siobhan calls to you. "I didn't think I'd see you here."
You twist on your heel and act surprised. You strut up as you feel Ransom watch your approach. You don't look at him.
"Well, you know, gotta do something," you say dully.
"Right? I was going to head down to the beach house but daddy already bought my plate." She pouts. "Just so happens, Ransom got Linda's."
"Oh," you finally glance over at him. "Is that so? How lucky."
His cheek tautens. You could tell the truth. You're not bitter. Only amused.
"Too bad about the beach house."
"Maybe tomorrow. You could come too. I was asking everyone." She says.
Right, everyone.
"Does that include Matthias?" You wonder coyly.
She bats her lashes and peeks at Ransom. "I don't know. I guess..."
You grin. "You two aren't... back together?" You point between her and Ransom.
"Yes," Ransom says as Siobhan shakes her head. "No. Just hanging out."
You make a face, "oops. Awkward."
"Shiv," Ransom turns to her. "What the fuck?"
"I never said so," she shrugs. "I just thought we could have some fun. Find the coat room. Like old times."
He scowls. "Matthias? Really?"
"You know we're no good together, Ran?" She rubs his arm and he wrenches away from her. "See. You're just too sensitive."
"Fuck off," he snarls and stomps away.
He bulls through the crowd, shoulder bouncing off several others without hesitation. You look at Siobhan and cringe. "Sorry, I didn't know it was a touchy subject."
"I don't know what his problem is. He's been fucking someone else anyway." She huffs.
"Oh?" You wonder with a hum.
"Probably several. Usually he's blowing up my phone but I didn't even hear from him before I got here. We just kinda met at the bar." She frowns prettily.
"Right, well, he's always been a big baby."
"He has," she agrees tritely. "Fuck, I hate him."
"Can't blame you," you sip your drink. "Anyway, don't let me keep you. I think I just saw Bonnie go that way."
"Bonnie?" She lengthens her neck and spins around. "Oh, I need to talk to her."
She flits away and you slowly back up through the crowd. You turn and head for the side door. Ransom's out on the bench, fuming as he keeps one hand wrapped around his fist. He grits his teeth as he glares at the ground.
"Come to laugh in my face?" He asks.
"I could've done that inside," you near him.
"Why the fuck won't you leave me alone?" He snarls as he keeps his eyes on the stone.
"You're the one who came to my room--"
"To make you stop!" He barks as he lifts his head. "Don't you get it?"
"You didn't have to come today. Gail would give me my money back." You stand across from him.
He sighs.
"My mom saw the invite. She didn't want me to miss it." He rolls his eyes.
"Hm, right." You cross the courtyard and hold out your glass. "Scotch. You seem like you need to loosen up."
He snatches it without thanks. He drains it and slams it down on the bench next to him. You watch him patiently.
"I would've bought you a new suit," you touch the thread on his lapel.
"Fuck off," he swats you away.
"You don't need to do shit for me," he hisses.
"I kind of want to, Drysdale." You touch his chin and trace the cleft with your thumb. "And I know you like expensive things."
"You can't buy people."
"You know that's not true." You scoffs and drop your hand. "There's more to me than money, Drysdale."
You open your clutch and slip out your phone. You tap the play icon. You wait for the sounds to come clearer.
“That’s it, bitch. You’re going to take my load like the empty fucking vessel your are..."
He stands up and reaches for your phone. You back away from his grasp and chuckle. He snarls and grabs your neck instead.
"It's on the cloud," you cough through his grip. "Go ahead but it's not going away--"
"You recorded me?"
You smirk as he squeezes. You wheeze. "Can you do this when we fuck?"
He lets you go and shoves you away. He throws his hands up and spins. He stomps and grips his hips.
vaporwave
blakekathryn
2087
dailybridgerton
stormborns
