The Demon's Whispers

4- A friendship

6 months earlier

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Wait tables, they said.

Collect glasses, they said.

Smile at customers and make sure they have a good time, they said.

Offer then extras, they said.

My stomach churned as I stood in the dark club, the music pumped through the building making the walls vibrate whilst the smell of alcohol festered in the air. Watching the women peel off her clothes seductively whilst men sat around the stage, drinking and tossing dollar bills down, made me realise what little faith I had in the male race, now. Skimpy clothing clad waitresses walked in neck breaking stilettos across the club, smiles plastered on their faces, holding a drinks tray as their hips swayed catching the men's attentions.

I'd been here three days. Or nights if we are splitting hairs and whilst my mind screamed at me to leave the first hour on my first night, I stayed because I needed the money.

My eyes connected with the male in the corner, his eyebrow raised waiting for me to appear from the shadows of the club and make my debut amongst what he called his loyal guests. Sure some of the men that were tossing money down had been here every night, but some had rings on their fingers and I couldn't phantom how they could do this kind of thing.

Didn't they love their wives?

The man lifted his wrist out and checked the time before nodding to me. My signal that the clock was on and it was time for me to sink or swim..

Swallowing the sickness that slowly edged up my throat, I stepped out and looked across the club for a man, hopefully one that would enjoy a nice talk rather than a grope and hint of extras.

Seeing a short, rounded man in a booth, nursing his drink whilst he kept his head in his hand, I smiled slightly. He screamed business man, but the ring on his finger and how he kept his eyes glued to the glass meant that he was a man, committed to his wife, just in the wrong damn place.

This could be my chance to talk him out of making any mistake, convince him to go home to his wife and tell her that he loves her. Not encourage him to do the dirty with any of the willing participants, as long as he left his credit card details.

Holding my head high, I walked across the club and was just 20 feet from the table, when my foot slipped on what I could only presume (and hoped) was a spilt drink.

I wasn't quick enough to catch myself and visions of me face planting the floor came into my mind, when arms wrapped around my frame and pulled me into them. My hand landed on a warm chest as my heart trashed behind my ribcage, threatening to tear it open. Shock was evident for a few seconds before I steadied myself and pushed up off the chest slightly.

A hand took hold of my cheek, angling my head up slowly, that's when I met my saviour. His grey eyes shot over my face in concern before his smile revealed perfect white teeth. His hair was spiked and the smell of his cologne made my tastebuds salivate. He was gorgeous and clearly very different from the clientele that frequented here, leaving me to ask one question.

"What's a guy like you, doing in a place like this?"

"What's a nice girl like you doing on a place like this?" He countered back.