Post by Deleted on Feb 13, 2018 23:37:44 GMT -5
Green Valley, Las Vegas
Sunday 01/29/2018
8:00pm
~BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-~
...shut the fuck up…
The sound of the alarm clock rings through the room, its high pitched whining sound shaking the walls. The messy room, a clean freaks nightmare, has become nothing more than a resting spot. No more a home than a motel. The curtains are pulled, draped over the windows trying to block out sunlight, but failing. The evening glow shines in, lighting up the image of a bed, with a figure diagonally stretched across it. Sheets kicked off to the floor, with nothing but an ass pointed to the ceiling and one hand on the snooze button, we find our protagonist, our anti-hero...Ciara Morrígan.
*yawning* Ugh, fuck this hell…*Waking up never was my strong suite, especially now working nights. I open my eyes, slowly at first. Blinking to take in the bright light of late evening Nevada...but wait, what’s that smell? I strain my to focus on something else, something on the chair across from my bed.* ...aw, Whiskers, you shat on my chair again!
*I sit up, annoyed at the cat shit on my chair. Three times now she’s done this to me. She jumps up onto my bed from the floor, her fat grey body rubbing against my hand.* Dumb kitty, when will you learn…
*I sit up, cuddling and stroking the cat.* Silly cat...but how could I be mad at you? Hmm, such a cute wittle kitty!
*I get up, swinging my legs out to the edge of the beds, wiggling my toes. Standing up I let the blankets and cat hair fall off me, stretched my arms up to the air and cracking my spine in the process...such a nice wave of relief flows through me. I make my way to the window, pulling open the curtains. Naked as the day I was born, I swing them open to let the last of the evening sunlight pour in, feeling the heat from its rays across my body. Three floors up in my apartment complex, if anyone sees these tits then they were lucky. A small ‘meow’ draws my attention back to the cat, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to the kitchen.*
OK Whiskers, let’s go get you some food and clean up your mess. *I lay her on the counter, open the cabinet, pulling out two tins of tuna and peeling the lids off both. One for Whiskers, one for me. My diet has gone to shit since this new gig started, but hey least I get tomorrow off. Whiskers starts to gulp down her food, while I pick at mine with my fingers. Stinky, repugnant tuna fish...just how I like it. I look around the kitchen; it’s trashed. The remnants of take-away orders, empty beer cans and bottles, and an ashtray overloading with butts. I’ve become a pig, like Dad always said I would. Even smells like shit in here...actually, it DOES smell like shit in here* What’s that smell? Whiskers? What did you do? *Sniffing, I look around for the source of the stench, quickly locating it- a dead mouse, half chewed up on the floor in the corner.* Fucking hell cat, gimme a break already...well shit...it never ends.
*I put down my tuna can breakfast and grab a brush and pan to clean up the dead rodent. I blow air up my face, blasting loose hairs away before slowly starting to clean.*
*A couple hours later, the kitchen is looking semi-normal again and the cat is sufficiently fed and rested. Mother of the Year, here I come! I scurry to the bedroom to get ready, my small apartment quickly become a hot-stop rather than a home. I only come here to sleep and feed the cat now. I slip on some comfortable clothes, a baggy hoodie and sweatpants, some slip on Uggs on my feet. I sit my ass in front of a mirror, working on my makeup. I applying my eye shadow with a heavy hand, making sure it looks the part.*
Thats it girl, lash it on. Give the lads what they want, some smoky eyed action…*If only my mother could see me now, she’d bate the arse off me. Still, I’m paying the bills and living the life, suppose she wouldn’t be too mad...Dad though. Jaysus...he’d wreck the gaff!*
*Thinking of home always makes me giggle, remembering the good laugh I had back home with Mam and the lads. The only girl of five kids, and I take off to America. Still, plenty of farmhands left to help Dad. Plus, shoveling pigshit isn’t my thing anyway...here I am in America instead, scooping cat shit instead.*
*A loud honking sound from outside stirs me...she’s early!* OK! OK! *I quickly run to gather items and put them into a backpack, loose lingerie, makeup and jewelry, and my black boots. My cell phone starts to buzz so I quickly pick it up and anchor it between my ear and shoulder.* I’m coming! Hang on, gimme five minutes! Sorry! *With all my shit in the backpack, I run out the door, give the fat cat a little rub behind the ear and leave, slamming my door shut.*
Sapphire’s Gentlemen's Club
Las Vegas, Nevada
Monday 01/30/2018
1:21AM
*The music of the club beats loudly, pumping the room with deep bass and erotic vibes. The room is filled with usual sights, men getting drunker and drunker, women doing their best to bleed these idiots for drinks and cash, and of course the other ladies like myself who have to work for the night, shaking our thangs and wiggle that rump. I like working Sunday nights though, it’s quiet, more peaceful...well, usually.* Heya Sandy, how you doing tonight? *Sandy, top shelf bird. Lovely lass with a great mind. Her taste in men is something to be embarrassed for however, constantly in and out of relationships with dirtbags and losers.*
Hey hey Angel! How’s the night going for you? You seeing lots of green men? *Angel, that’ the name they gave me. I’ve been stripping for six months, I wear black every night, and my makeup screams emo chick. But no, Angel...still, the guys like it, which means business is good. I join Sandy at the bar, to grab myself a refreshment.* So, what are you having?
Hmm, let’s mix it up tonight...double tequila and juice, sweetheart. *Truthfully, I never remember the barmaids name, and even then it’ll probably be a different stage name by next week. So I just stick to ‘sweetheart’, it works and they like it so whatever.*
So, you’re a popular gal, working here all week long? Boss must have taken a shine to you or somethin’.
*Not really, the Boss is a prick. I did however bitch slap his ex-girl in the car lot two weeks back, so now he loves me. Seven days straight, and reeling in the dough each night.* Yeah, guess he enjoys seeing me dance as much as these other hounds.
Well good for you, if you can get the shifts I say go for it. It’s slow season so until the gamblers and card sharks roll in over summer, I’m just lucky to get what shifts I can! Can you believe this is only my second shift this week?
Second? Why didn’t you get more? *We girls make our own money, grinding on dicks or flashing our tits, but that doesn’t get you much sitting at home. Missing a night on the poles can be a death sentence in this town.*
Dunno, maybe I should call myself Angel and put on a British accent too! Haha!
*Stupid cunt…* Haha, yeah, maybe...and it’s Ireland. Not Britain.
Oh, really? But, aren’t they all the same thing?
*OK, I get it. She’s a stripper, and classically they are {Mongo Edit: Nah we don't say that anymore}. But Sandy’s one of the good ones, the smart ones. So rather than ramming this highball into her eye socket, I’ll let it slide...let this one go Ciara.* Haha, no not quite. I’ll get you a map and you can look it up.
*I shoot her a wink, guzzle down my glass and get up.* Alright honey, time for this ass to make some bucks. I’ll catch you later.
Ok Angel. Hey, are you going up on stage tonight? I don’t get a dance until way later.
*Poles are fun and that, plus you can zone out and get away from the world. But right now I’m too sober, and sober me wants money.* Not yet, maybe later. I’m gonna work the tables tonight for a bit. *I give her another wink, and start circling my prey. Tables dotted all over Sapphires are full of cash paying slobs and lowlifes, this time of year bringing in nothing good. You do meet a nice guy here and there, but never anything to write home about. I’m wearing fuck all too, my usual leather two-piece, knee high Doc’s and fingerless gloves. My bottoms zip all the way open, for that extra element of suspense. Guys love the badass rock chick look, and I don’t blame them. I pull it off well. It doesn’t take long for some jerk to click his fingers and call me over. His table is covered in empty Bud Light’s, and a pack of Marlboro Red sits next to them. Classy guy alert, we got a winner.*
Heya handsome, how you doing tonig-
How much for the dance?
*I've just say HI and he's an asshole already, perfect.* Oh, well that depends on what kind of dance you are look-
Tits in my face, ass on my lap. No bullshit. How much?
*OK Ciara, breathe, let’s not rip out his fucking eyeballs just yet.* Straight to the point I see. Alright, it's $50 a song, and we can go from there.
Yeah, alright.
You wanna go somewhere more private, we have booths in the back-
No, right here is good. I got my eye on that sweet piece of cherry pie over there.
*I look over to see what he is talking about. Dream, another one of our girls, newer than most. She black, shes hot and damn she’s good. But these hicks don’t go near her, damn supremacists.* Oh I get you...OK, then it’s cash upfront and we can get started.
*He hands me a bunch of crumpled up bills from his pocket, making up $43 after some rummaging. Normally I let the guy slide if he’s short. Sweet guys get the best service. This asshole however...I wait and let him scavenge some more until he barely finds the full fifty. Guess there ain’t no tip in this for me later. I straddle him, doing my usual routine- tits in the face, top on. Then thighs and pussy, still clothed. Then ass in the air, bend forwards to he sees it all. Bottoms come off first, letting them see the thong underneath, keeping the illusion up. Men think they are going to see pussy right away, little do they know that rarely happens. Next the top is off, letting the girls breath, and its one more round again. Tits, thighs, pussy, ass and grind. Usually the guys are stiff as a rock, and begging for more time. This prick however…*
I see you like our new girl Dream, you haven’t taken your eyes off her once...what, you don’t like me?
...just shut up and dance…
*A real sweetheart this one. I finish my routine, the song ends and I snatch up my shitty bills from this jerk. I zip back on my outfit and make my way round the club again, looking for who’s next.*
*A couple more hours pass, and the night is growing real late. Those left in the club are either too drunk to get it up, or are waiting to see which girls offer them ‘extra services’ off the clock. I do a few more loops and don’t see much when I hear that familiar ‘click click’ again...it’s Mr. Bud Light. Still here and still drinking pisswater I see. He waves at me to join him, and seeing as I have no other choices and no other means of money, I figure ‘what the heck’ and make my way over. Let’s see if I can get another fifty before the clock rings.*
Still here I see?
Very observational.
Hmm, now, what can we do for you big boy?
Gimme another dance, but make this one special.
Special? Hmm, well if you want to spend a little more money, we can take this one to the back. The booths are a lot more private...which means you get a much better showing…
How much is all that gonna cost me?
*This asshole barely coughed up fifty bucks a few hours back, there is no way he can afford this.* It’s $150, and you get me for five songs.
You said extra special...what are we talking here? Sex? Blowjob?
*Pig.* No honey, just dancing, but this time there ain’t nothing between me and you...and these big paws- *I grab his hands and put them on my hips.* -get to feel all of me.
$150 is a bit steep…
*I stand up and act like I’m walking away, which sets his expressions in motion- shock, worry, rejection, desperation and best of all...loneliness.*
No, wait...lemme just run to the ATM real quick.
*Jackpot. Normally I don’t bother with these slobs, but it's the end of the night and rent is due. So, a girl does what she has to. I draw the line at my ‘special dances’, but some of these other girls go all the way, for the right price. I tried it once...not a good experience. Then again I do have more brains than half this squad combined. He comes back, giddy and excited, a fresh stack of twenties. As he counts them out, I spot a blonde eyeing me up from a nearby table. He looks cute, pretty, but mean too. A weird mix, but I like it. She checks me out, I give her the look back and that’s it. Sparks! Hicksville gets excited and wants to go now, so pixie blonde has to wait her turn.* You wanna grab your beer for the back?
Nah it's all good, that stuff is pisswater anyway.
*Wow, some actual normal words from this bozo.* Then why drink it?
I gotta drive later, and it's the only shit that keeps me under the limit. Figures.
*Interesting. I lead him to the back area, where our booths are shielded behind red drapes. Normally we have a doorman keeping watch, but on a slow Sunday he doesn’t come in. No biggie, I’m a tough gal. I sit him in the booth and get to work, doing my routine as usual. This time, nothing stays on. He gets to see all of me, and as promised I guide his hands to where he wants them to go.*
You like this?
Oh fuck yeah...you’re so hot…
*Not as hot as Dream, apparently. But since she got cut and sent home early, he’s making do with me. How sweet of him. He moves his hands over me, feeling me up. I feel him growing under my lap, getting excited. With my back to him and me sat on him, his hands slide from my hips to my crotch, so I grab them away.*
Tsk tsk, not down there. *He goes back to light and gently touching, but not long before the hand makes its way to my upper thigh again. I slowly move to grab it, but his other grabs my tit, squeezing it hard.*
Ouch baby, now now play nice!
Or what? What are you gonna do tough gal?
*Is he joking? Or is he being playful? I turn to face him, placing his hands down by his side before straddling him. He is getting the up close and personal contact, and I feel him bulging already, only three songs in. This time hands don’t matter, as he leans in and grabs my nipple in his teeth. OK, this piece of shit is going down. He releases, laughing but fuck it hurt. I get up to switch positions and his hands dart between my legs again, only this time they go much further. Touching the outside is one thing, but sticking fingers in me is a death sentence. Playing it cool, I move his hand away, him struggling to keep it there.*
Oh you like that huh? Is that what you wanted?
Yeah bitch, give that to me again.
OK, no problem. *I see an empty bottle behind the booth and lean in. My tits close in on his face and he doesn’t see me grab and the glass bottle, then SMASH!*
Ah what the fuck-
*BANG! BANG! Two straight rights to the nose and this dirtbag is bleeding. He tries to stand up and I’m ready- BOOM! Size 5 Dr. Marten steel toed boot, right to the crown jewels. He goes down like a sack of spuds.* You wanna touch women, you wanna grab them by the pussy? Alright ‘Donald’, now you see what happens. Come on sleazeball, time for you to go!
*I hook him from under his arms, as he's laying down down on the floor. I drag his sorry ass out of the backrooms, and towards the exit at the rear of the club. It’s almost shutting down time and there’s nobody else in this area, well except one person-*
Everything alright back there?
*The blonde, pixie looking sprout. She’s right here as I emerge. Shit.* Hey, all good. Just a man who couldn’t take no for an answer. *She’s smiling, not even slightly phased.* Are you...do we…
Know each other? No no, but you ain’t a stranger to me...come on, let me help you out here.
*The drunken pervert begins to stir, getting up but in a flash the sassy blonde steps forward and curb-stomps that dickhead back to sleep. She shoots me a sideways smile, almost flirtatious. She grabs his feet and helps me carry him to the backdoor, where we politely and gentle fuck him out on his sorry ass. Typical, doorman Bob shows up now, ten minutes too late. I tell him what happened and he takes over. Realizing I’m still ass naked, I try to take my leave of the situation but this chick won’t let me.*
Hey, I wanted to tell you something, or more so ask you something.
Yeah, well I’ll have to take a rain check on that. I’ve a little indisposed as you can see.
No worries, in fact I like you like this.
*Interesting. A dyke AND a stalker.* Tell you what, I need a drink after that and seeing as you want my tits on show, the drinks on you.
Deal. *She shoots me another smile. I like this gal already.*
So...what’s the story? *She leads us both to a table near the back, waving at the server to bring us two drinks.* I mean, you say you’ve seen me before, you’ve been watching me for a while...I’ll be straight up, I’m in no mood to fuck anything tonight. You’re a cute doll, but after this shift I just want a bath and my slippers.
Hahaha *Her laugh is loud, but nice.* You’re a funny one. No girl, I’m not here to suck your clit...I’m here to recruit you.
Recruit? For what? If it’s another club I’m not interested.
It’s not a club but...well, its got girls. LOTS of girls.
*Great, she’s a pimp. The server comes by with our drinks, another new face to the club.* Thanks...sweetheart. *Fuck why can I never remember names.* Look I like that you are scouting, but I’m not down for that kind of thing. Lots of girls, but not a club, it’s not what I’m lookin-
Wrestling.
*The FUCK did she say?* Excuse me?
I said, it’s wrestling. Underground, dark, violent. But yeah, wrestling.
Like...Hulk Hogan shit? Macho Man and Razor Ramone?
I can tell you haven’t watched in many years, but yes. However, think a bit wilder, a bit crazier. Like...hardcore. Steel chairs. Bats barbed wire and tables. Ladders. Blood sweat and tears.
Sounds delightful...but I’d rather stay here and show off my body for money, rather than get it fucked up for nothing.
Its not nothing. In fact, what you’ll make there in one night, will cover what you make here in a month.
*Bullshit.* Bullshit.
Not at all, come see for yourself if you don’t believe me. We have a show taking place on February 11th, our Sex & Violence Tour.
...wrestling? You are asking me, a stripper, if I want to go wrestling? Why.
Well, like I’ve said, I’ve seen you in action. I saw you once on the strip, taking it out on a trio of bachelors. I saw you stop a robbery in Ross’s once. I was here two weeks ago when you kicked the shit out of that wildcat out in the parking lot. And now, yet again, you handled yourself well against a six foot two hillbilly with quick hands. You’re a fighter. And, I think you know it.
*What’s she getting at?* Look, I really don’t think that I’m the right person for this…
Look around you. Look at all these girls, beautiful. Sexual. Men lust for them, women crave what they are, or what they have. But these girls are fragile. Broken homes or broken souls lead them down this path. Not all will be strong enough to move up from here, and worse...not all of them could handle themselves in danger. But then, we have you. Ass-kicking and fiery, but with the same looks. And dare I say there might even be a brain in there.
*She reaches over to tap my head, but I pull back. She’s talking shit...but I do like the sound of it.* So...in the ring, wrestling other girls...that's it?
That’s it. We’re new and we’re growing, but we need girls. We need fighters, not performers. And you have it all, in one tight little package. *She looks down, eyeing up my box.*
Eyes up here Missy, this girl ain’t free. So...let’s say I try this out. I just show up and fight?
That’s it. The rules are easy, the game is fun. You show up, beat the shit out of someone, and away you go. Winners take home a fat purse, losers get chump change. The house shows are fun, nice small crowds so you can really work on stuff. But then there is the big events, the PPV’s...those are the big deal!
*She’s definitely struck a nerve...I do have a temper. In fact, I’ve been in more trouble than she is even aware. Fighting off angry exes, to the mean bitches of Vegas, to grabby tourists. Throwing down is second nature to me now.* What’s the money like?
*She smiles again, that damn smile.* It’s good. Trust me...so, you interested?
Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.
Cool. Well look, it's getting late and I need to go home. You girls have been fun to watch, but my bed calls to me. Look if you fancy coming along to the show, it's on February 11th at the Golden Nugget.
Old Fremont? That sleazy neck of town?
The sleazier it is, the better the purse. But anyway, think on it. If you think you got what it takes to run a few shows, maybe we can work something out. *She stands up and takes a $50 out of her bra, and leave it on the table for the drinks.* Might want to grab yourself some clothes, looks like you’re getting cold.
*I look down to see my nipples are like bullets. Cheeky bitch. She’s already walking away.* Hey! What’s your name? *She smiles, classic.*
...Crash...Crash McKenna.
Cool...my name isn’t really Angel.
...I know. *Another smile and she’s gone. Golden Nugget casino, to wrestle...what a weird gal. I’ve been propositioned before, but never about anything like that. I get up to walk back to the booths, grabbing my clothes and make my way to the changing rooms in the back. The clock on the wall now reads 4:06am, and for a Sunday it's still moving out there. All I want now is my bed, but this damn club keeps going until 6am. Ugh...one night a month. To punch women in the face. And make more money than a month of stripping...it does sound good. I hear my name being called by the announcer, guess it’s my turn up on stage next.*
Four in the fucking morning on a Sunday night, and some cunt is barking at me to climb on stage and swing around a fucking pole…*Maybe wrestling isn’t such a bad idea after all…*