Chapter 6: First shift
The Yellow Rose stank of cheap perfume, stale beer, and sweat, a thick haze of cigarette smoke hanging under the red lights as I push through the heavy black door. In a cramped dressing room littered with sequins and frayed lingerie, two girls turned to stare at me, a beautiful blue eyed brunette and a skinny blonde with lots of tattoos and fake tits
The blonde leaned against a stained vanity, her eyes appraising me with a curiosity. "I'm Sasha," she said, her voice lightly accented. "And that is Adriana."
"I'm Paulina ," I said, my voice low and even in the cluttered space. Sasha nodded, her blue eyes drifting over my fishnets and the bruises Pooch had left around my throat.
“You are American?” Adriana asked, her accent thickening with surprise as she finally spoke, her eyes wide. Sasha’s painted lips curved into a slow smile as she stepped closer, a fingernail tracing the faint purple marks on my skin.
“Yeah, I’m a student at the community college,” I say
“A student,” Sasha repeated, her finger pausing on a particularly dark bruise where the leash had bitten deepest. “So who gave you this necklace, little student?”
"It was Pooch," I reply. "He was a little rough."They both laugh, a sharp, knowing sound. “And did you like it?” Sasha asks directly
Paulina met Sasha’s gaze, the memory of Pooch’s brutal possession still vivid in her throbbing body. “Yes,” she said, the truth sharp and filthy on her tongue, “I liked it”
Sasha smiled wildly, “Good girl,” she purred, her hand slipping from my throat to squeeze my hip with possessive promise “now let’s get you ready for your first shift “
Sasha’s smile widened as she pulled me toward the cluttered vanity, her fingers already dipping into jars of waxy foundation and dark pigment “ let’s accentuate those beautiful features”
Sasha’s cool fingers tilted my chin up, her thumb smearing a thick line of concealer over the bruise Pooch’s leash had left. The makeup was heavy, cloying, the scent of powder and perfume choking me as she worked. Her breath was hot against my neck as she leaned in, her lips brushing my ear.
“You’re going to be a star here, little one,” she whispered, her accent thick with something between amusement and hunger. “But first, you need to learn how to *perform*. Stringer asked me to start teaching you after your classes. Get you ready for the stage.”