His obsession, my obsession

Vivianna

Hesitant steps carried me along the shadowy alleyway, until we arrived at a pulsating purple puddle on the wet cobbled ground.

Biting a fingernail, I looked up at the purple sign Club Howl. “What is this place?”

Scratching himself as he always did, Teo inclined his head for me to enter through the metal door.

There we were in some seedy back street of Soho, smelling of rotting meat, where I’d agreed to waitress in costume.

I had no idea what I’d be expected to wear. Vague on detail, Teo, on drugs at the time, wouldn’t elaborate. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, because I was on the street, broke, and in debt to his sister.

“Just go in.” He pushed me through the door.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the purple-walled foyer, smelling of disinfectant and cheap perfume. The walls were covered in images of beautiful young women wearing lingerie with “come to bed” eyes.

“Is this a strip club?” My blood froze. I’d never been in a place this sleazy before.

“Just keep moving.” He twitched like ants were crawling over him. His eyes in the dim light resembled empty dark sockets.

I figured I’d be expected to wear something skimpy. I had little choice but to accept.

My heart pounded like mad. This wasn’t me.

I only knew Teo through his twin sister, my former flatmate, to whom I owed rent. She’d thrown me out after her boyfriend moved in.

Teo led me into an office, where I met an overweight man with a ruddy complexion who looked in his fifties.

“This is Oliver,” Teo said.

The seated man, who I imagined was the club owner, ran his creepy eyes up and down my body, sending a shiver through me.

He looked at Teo. “Okay, you can go now.”

Teo lingered for a moment, scratching himself some more. He shot Oliver a crooked grin. “Are we good?”

The older man ran his eyes over me again before returning his attention to the drug addict. “Go and see Luka. He’s got what you want.”

Teo shuffled off, leaving me alone with this sleazy-looking man, whose gaze made me want to squeeze into a tight ball.

Stale smoke clung to the air, and the walls had images of racing cars, boxers, and beautiful women.

Here I was at twenty-four in a trashy bar about to sell my soul which had cried so much I’d turned to stone.

A woman, who looked to be in her thirties, entered. Her face was heavily made up with thick eyelashes that curled to her brows. Tied back in a ponytail, her waist-length blonde hair, without a strand out of place, resembled a sheet of satin.

Dressed in a pink corset, suspenders, and stiletto skyscraper heels, she towered over me.

“Get her ready,” he said, leaning back with his hands crossed over his fat stomach. “Bring her back so I can see her.”

In silence, we moved along a dimly lit hallway to the back of the venue.

The woman opened the door, and I stepped into a dressing room, smelling like a department store perfume counter. My attention went to the rack of lingerie and a lit-up mirror with makeup scattered on the bench.

“I’m Erika” She sounded Russian.

“Hi. I’m Vivi.” My voice trembled.

Her red-painted lips turned up slightly at one corner. “Relax. They won’t eat you.” Her blue eyes shone with a hint of cheek. “But then, you might want them to.”

I shook my head repeatedly. “Am I to dress like this?” I pointed at her corset.

“This is a gentlemen’s club. They didn’t tell you?”

“I was told it was a waitressing gig in costume. That’s all I know.”

A hint of a smile warmed her face. “That’s pretty much it.” She tugged at my shirt. “Come on. Off with everything. It’s nice and warm in here.”

She produced a black lace corset with red satin ribbon trim. “This should fit.” She studied me as I crossed my arms over my chest. “With those tits, you’ll be very popular.”

I hated my body. And now I had to use it to survive. I’d barely managed on waitressing and cleaning jobs. And despite working two jobs, I was still in debt because of high London rents.

I wasn’t about to beg my cold, indifferent mother. I couldn’t stand the sight of her after how she’d treated me.

Erika handed me fishnet stockings. “What size feet?”

“Six.” I wondered how the hell I’d manage to walk in the skyscraper shoes she dropped in front of me.

“Okay. That should do.” She paused at the door. “I’ll be back in a minute to help with your hair and makeup. Let me get you a drink. That will help.”

In response to her welcomed hint of warmth, I nodded with a quivery smile. “A G&T, thanks.”

I gave myself a pep talk. Five hundred pounds would pay my debt and find me a room for a few nights. It was only skin after all.

But will they touch me?

My stomach tied in knots as I carefully placed my foot in the stocking, trying to avoid ripping them.

Teo reassured me it would only be waitressing in costume. But he was a junkie, and considering he raided his sister’s wallet more than once, I knew he couldn’t be trusted.

Battling with the zip, I lifted the lace bodice as high as I could. The corset squashed my D-cup breasts. I could barely breathe.

I rummaged through the box and found a pair of lace panties with the most fabric, despite my arse poking out, which was easy enough to do, given I had a big bum.

As I clipped on the stockings, Erika entered carrying two glasses. She handed me one and as she sipped on hers, she nodded.

“Mm… you’re going to be popular.” She pointed to the black spiky, red-soled shoes that could have doubled as weapons. “Put those on. And then stand up. Let me see you.”

Wobbly-legged, I rose and held onto the bench for balance.

She chuckled. “You’re not used to them, I see.” She pointed. “Walk around.”

I moved around the small room cluttered with stacked boxes, staring down at my feet to avoid tripping. After a minute or so, I managed.

“Let’s do some makeup.” Her softened tone helped me relax. “So how old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” I closed my eyes while she dabbed a sponge on my face.

“You’ve never worked in a man’s club before?”

“No. I waitress in cafés and restaurants mainly.”

“You won’t get this type of money working in cafés.”

“Is it just serving drinks to tables?” I asked, as she brushed rouge on my cheeks.

She stared at me in the mirror. At first, I wondered if it was to look at my makeup, but there was something else in her gaze.

As though she was trying to read me.

What is she not telling me?

“You’ve got pretty eyes. Look up for me.” She drew a line under my eye, and then pulled my lid to draw a line above. “No boyfriend?”

“No.” I looked at myself in the mirror. The shadow she applied on my eyelids defined my almond-shaped eyes. “You’re good at makeup. I always make a mess of it.”

“I trained as a beautician.” She stepped away to study me in the mirror.

“Oh. And you work here now?”

She selected a lip pencil from a box. “I’ve been here for eight years. I came from Bosnia and started working here. The conditions are good. The money’s excellent. Especially if a client likes you.”

I frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged. “You’ll see.” Looking into the mirror at my freshly painted red lips, she nodded. “Good. You’re very, very pretty. And with this figure, you can become a very rich woman.”

I rose sharply, as if something had bitten me on the bottom. “I’m not going to whore myself.”

She smiled like a mother might at a child threatening to starve themselves rather than eat veggies. “Relax. You won’t need to do that. It will be fine. Take a drink. When you’re counting your money at the end of the night, you’ll be very happy.” Erika removed my hair tie. “Mm… lovely long hair too. Let’s leave it out. Yes?”

I shrugged. “Sure. Maybe clip it back because it falls in my face when I’m waitressing.”

“Mm… no. Loose, I think.”

I finished my drink in almost two gulps as Erika brushed my hair, and for a moment I was lulled back to a state of calm.

She put down the brush. “Okay. All done. Stand up and practice walking again.”

I stood up and she pulled down my corset. “Let’s show a little more of these. My god, I wish I had your tits. I’d be a millionaire.”

She said that under her breath.

I stared at her tall, svelte frame. “You’re beautiful. You could be a runway model with those legs.”

“Maybe if life had been different.” She shrugged. “I was smuggled into London and forced to work.”

I frowned. “Oh, really? Like that? I mean, you were prostituted?”

She nodded slowly. Her blues eyes distant. “But Oliver has been good to me.”

“Oliver’s your boyfriend?”

“No. He’s more like a father to me. Tough but fair. I’ll take you to him now. Okay?” She opened the door for me to pass.

My chest tightened, and my pulse raced. What was going to happen? The drink had made me light-headed. More so than usual after only one drink, but it wasn’t enough to numb fear.