CONTROL ▼ HARRY STYLES AU

1.

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Another evening rolled around and it was time for work again. I stood in the dingy dressing room bathroom, pulling my lipstick over my full lips. Admiring my reflection in the mirror, I tugged gently at my lingerie, pulling my pure white thong higher over my hips.

According to Dan, the clubs manager, a high roller had booked me specifically for the evening. This was great, of course. It meant I'd have to work about half the time I usually would, but get double the money.

I wondered who it was: had I danced for them before? Why'd they ask for me? The high roller had been very specific with what he wanted me to wear. Minimal makeup, all white lingerie, softly curled hair. Although I find I can't wear minimal makeup anymore- the dark circles under my eyes require a good few layers of concealer- but I kept it as natural as possible.

Cara, another dancer who possibly hated me the most strutted into the bathroom. She was older than me, though all of the girls were, and the years of drug and alcohol abuse had not aged her well. I'd say she was in her late twenties now, though she looked about ten years older. Her hair was thin and matted, her skin slightly wrinkled, her eyes completely soulless. They say that once she was the best dancer in this joint, that people came from all over just to see her. That definitely wasn't the case anymore, though. I'd knocked her off her throne just a few weeks after arriving. I don't blame her for hating me. Maybe one day I'll end up like her...

"Dan says the kid who's bought you's arrived. Better get your ass out there," Her voice was raspy and harsh. I packed up my things, threw my bag back into my small locker, and made one final check of my appearance. I looked innocent, pure... Nothing like the girl I'd grown to be.

I quickly found Dan, who grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards the back rooms. They were used for private appointments, and I'd never used them before. Needless to say the thought of finally losing the last speck of innocence I had in a back room with a complete stranger made me feel sick, and a little dirty.

Dan turned to me, looking me up and down, "You'll do fine, sweetheart. Just keep tha' pretty smile on your face." He was a hard-headed, butch man and rarely showed compassion, though he could sense my nerves and tried his best to put me at ease.

I nodded feebly, turning to the white door marked "Luxury suite". It seemed the high roller wanted to stay the night. Maybe I wouldn't get off as quickly as I thought.

Pushing aside my nerves, I knocked on the door, pushing it open and entering the room, swaying my hips as I did so, like I would on the stage, "Hello, sir," I tried my best to sound sexy, though I fear I sounded more like a scared child.

"Hello, angel," He was sat on the edge of the bed, cigarette between his lips, shirt unbuttoned, hair a mess. What a beautiful man.

We stared in silence for a while. His eyes wandered over my body, admiring every last detail of it. A smirk played on his lips, his dark green eyes had a gleam of mischief in them.

"Come, sit." He gestured to the space next to him. He spoke with a strong british accent, which made my heart melt. I hurried to sit next to him, crossing my legs and leaning closer to him.

"What's your name, mister?" I was gaining confidence fast, and placed a hand on his bare chest, "My name's Lola..."

"Harry. 'S a pleasure, doll." He put out his cigarette, facing me now, giving me his full attention.

"Would you like me to dance for you, Harry?" I questioned as seductively as possible, running my hand down his tattooed chest. He shook his head, standing up quickly, pouring two glasses of sweet champagne. I shook my head, "I don't drink while I'm working,"

"Smart. So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" I rolled my eyes. What a fucking cliché. But truthfully, I ask the same question every day. I was going to go to college, but after the accident, I had no financial support and had to make money fast.

"Money."

He nodded, pacing the room slowly. The man was intimidating, the way he stalked around the room.

"Listen, Lola. I would quite like to see you once a week."

"You wanna book me weekly?"

"Yes, for now. We'll see how this goes," He placed his glass on the cabinet, returning to the lush double bed, and pushing me down gently. He towered over me, his eyes roaming my body once again. He placed his cold fingertips on my collar bone, lightly dragging them down over my breasts, fiddling with the lace of my bra, and then down my waist slowly. I shivered subtly, looking up at him.

"Lola, my dear... You aren't a virgin, are you?" Had he read my mind? He ripped his fingers away from my body, laying to side of me. I nodded slowly, worried he'd get mad, or call off the weekly appointments. But instead he smiled, this charming, soft smile and kissed my forehead. I was amazed.

We spent the next hour or so talking. Weird, I know. The man hadn't payed for sex, he'd payed for company. I learned he was twenty four and came from a rich family. He'd been offered his fathers business, but instead chose to start a new business. Drug shit, he says. He didn't go into too much detail about that. He moved to America when his father moved his business over here, when he was seventeen. I didn't tell him much. We booked in a time for next week and he sent me on my way with three hundred dollars in my pocket.

I can't say it was the most exciting night, but at least I got payed. Secretly I was thrilled the night hadn't gone like I'd expected. I still had a little bit of purity about me.

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