The Velvet Room | ✔

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖮𝗇𝖾

Ftr -

Rr-

❦

Trauma; It's a funny thing, really.

Upon hearing the word your mind goes to the isolated depths of a person. The stained thoughts that taint their mind with a forever torturous bond. The rays of sun that had once filled their soul, illuminating to those around them, is blinded in the sheer moment.

I've read about it, I've thought about it, I've seen it in movies and TV. Never did I think it would actually happen to me.

The Velvet Room was booming, more packed tonight than it had been in awhile. Friday night set the tone of people wanting to let loose for the weekend; drink and dance their troubles away and maybe even find a suitable partner to share to the night with. Even with how packed it was, there was a line around the corner. People were irritated for standing around so long, a few slipping out and finding other bars to go to.

The night air sent a crisp wind and chills down my skin, shivers running down my bare arms and causing me to hug myself closer. My heel covered feet carried me behind the crowd and to the back alley where a door labeled employees only was screwed in boldly. I could hear the loud beat of the bass, feel it in my chest.

I fiddled with my key in the lock, the jingle of the few keys echoing down the walled in alley ramp. I slid it in, turned it a few times before feeling it click and the door pop open.

Strobe lights flashed around the club, falling over my face a few times before I turned around and locked the door back. With my purse securely over my shoulder, I made my way past the bar and into the back hallway where I had been appointed. My palms felt a little sweaty as I twisted the ring around my middle finger as a nervous habit.

I could smell the musky scent of smoke and alcohol, nearly scrunching my nose at the hideous combination but continued my way down the carpeted hallway. The lights were a purple dimmed, seeming to get darker with every passing step but I pushed it off as my mind playing tricks. The farther I walked down and took a few turns, I could hear the music becoming more distant.

With a few steps remaining, I took my time walking up the small set of stairs. I could see the door labeled Jay Winton in bold letters.

I strided up to it, laying a delicate three knocks on the oak door and hearing a come in only seconds later.

I pushed the door open, seeing a man sitting at his desk, feet propped up on it. A cigarette was lit between his two fingers, puffs of smoke coming from his lips.

"What do you need, doll?" His eyes barely paid me any attention, eyes seeming to stare into the distance while simultaneously taking drags from his cigarette. I spotted a bottle of what looked like scotch on his desk.

"I-I'm Reyna...I start today and I was told to come here if I need clothes." His eyes met mine but not for long before they were trailing down my body, lingering on my chest that had my breasts spilling out from my push up bra that I felt was necessary to wear today.

"Ah yes, you," he sighed, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray and standing up. "Clothes off. I need measurements." I gulped nervously but nodded my head. Might as well get used to this now. I undid my 4 inch heels first, hopimg to maybe stall a bit before having to go to the extent of just standing in front of my new boss in just my underwear. But of course,, I wasn't long before I was reaching for the hem of my dress and slipping it over my head. All thats left wad my underwear and fishnets. His eyes flickered down my body before opening a drawer and grabbing some tape measure.

"Arms up." He began to wrap the tape around my chest, and I could've swore I heard him mutter double d's.

He took measurements of my waist, hips, and thighs before moving away and turning to a closet in the corner. I hear the screeches of hangers, rummaging of clothes until he comes out with a few things in his hands.

"Leave the shoes and fishnets on, and wear these." He threw a skirt and crop top my way and I immediately began slipping them on to save myself further embarrassment and violation. The top was tight fitted, overflowing my breasts more than they already were while my skirt was smaller than expected. It barely reached the bottom of my bum, the slightest movement would reveal my black lace thong. Although it was small, it wasn't tight except for around her waist. Kind of like those porn school girl skirts. I fastened the ribbons around my ankles of my shoes, and turned to leave back down the corridor.

I hated the outfit but nonetheless figured it was to bring me more attention which brings more money.

I rounded back into the club, seeing the many men and women, some standing around the stages, some dancing together and some sharing drinks at the bar. I could help but blush as a few turned towards me, their eyes eating up my legs and landing around her skirt in hopes to see it peak up just the slightest. Others eyes would land on my chest and at that point I had quickly turned away and retreated into the back to the locker rooms. I took out my keys I had stuffed back into my purse and popped off the padlock on my locker.

I set my purse inside on the hanger on the side. From my makeup bag I fixed my foundation and mascara, as well as adding an extra layer of dark red lipstick on my plump lips. I blushed at the view in the tiny mirror in the locker. I never in a million years would dress like this on any other occasion.

The only time I could think of that I actually even used a push-up bra was when my other bras needed to be washed. My friend had bought me the set in order to spice up the underneath as she put it.

I felt dirty wearing these; uncomfortable. More had been exposed than I usually wore. I tucked a strand behind my ear and closed the locker and popped the lock back in.

My heels clicked on the hard floor back into the club and my eyes set on my assigned stage I had been informed of on a tour of the place just the other week.

Something that was very very strict in this club that I found is the club owners do not tolerate the dancers being touched. Lap dances were acceptable, but it cost a lot extra. Most strippers have leeway with touching, allowing the person to graze their legs, stick money in their bras, but that was forbidden here. I didn't mind, for me it was more than acceptable with not being touched.

With a deep breath I tried to clear my mind and walked up on the stage. My hand wrapped around the second I got on stage and smoothly transitioned into a front leg hook around the pole. Men that had already been staring at me gathered by the stage, some taking seats nearby and watching, cheering.

I focused my mind on the music, and tried out a few beginner moves to the rhythm. I went down for a dip spin and then smoothed into an extended fireman spin. My legs would wrap around and twist around, skirt flaunting up and showing the skimpy little thong gripping onto my ass.

Men would cheer, money thrown, drinks passed; a typical first day in this line of work.

_______________

I'm not good with first chapters </3

Updates are every Monday <3