444. (Completed) - Bee90s - Wattpad

444. (Completed)

Reads 1,207,212
Votes 61,294
Parts 35
Time 3h 44m

Reads 1,207,212
Votes 61,294
Parts 35
Time 3h 44m

Mature

"Montana, come here." He nodded his head toward the door, leaving out of the room. 

Staying silent as Ms. Carol looked at me, I kissed the back of Josiah's hand before leaving out of the room. 

As I walked out, Messiah stood there looking at me in disgust while I closed the door. 

"What are you doing that shit for?" 

"Huh?" I said since I had nothing else to say, just trying to stall time to get my words together.

"Why are you stripping, Monty?"

Sighing, I decided that I wasn't going to lie like I'd originally planned to do after listening to Chocolate's stupid advice. 

"Money." I spoke simply and he scoffed as I looked down.

"Why not just ask Josiah for money instead doing hoe shit?" 

"First of all, It's not doing hoe shit. I don't have sex with anyone. I just dance. And I don't want to ask him for any money. It's not his job to take care of me."

"So stripping..." He trailed off with a laugh.

"..stripping was the last resort? Instead of putting your pride aside?" 

Saying nothing, I just looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Please don't tell him, Messiah." I could already tell by the look on his face that he was going to tell him.

"I ain't gon' tell him.." 

Thank God. I thought. 

"..you are." 

"What?!" I shrieked. 

"No. I'm not."

"You are." He spoke in a demanding tone.

"Please. You know how he is." I expressed

"And you know how he is too but you made that bed." 

"Messiah, he's going to kill me." I begged.

"I know." He shook his head, walking away from me.

"Better figure it out. You got until the end of the day to tell him or I will."  He mumbled before walking back into the room.All Rights Reserved

35 parts

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The Crimson "Gentleman"

🔞 Renée is a woman. And her job? To be a male escort. Known as René. That year, she cried out, "There's a ghost!" and threw herself into his arms. The moans behind the door became their unspoken secret. She was like a porcelain doll, delicate yet haunting, stirring ripples in his young, darkness-steeped heart. The first thought that flashed through his mind was: destruction. Twelve years later, his father brought her home again. His mother collapsed outside the bedroom door, dead from a sudden heart attack. And in front of her, he sent his father to his final rest. He hated her. For making him lose his parents, leaving him utterly alone. For enchanting everyone around him with her beauty. For stirring the emotions he had long kept still, for shaking the unshakable, for making a man who ruled over everything lose control. He tormented her, humiliated her, desperate to prove that she meant nothing to him. Yet, he never once thought of letting her go. Because twelve years ago, he had said, "Let's always be together." 🎩 Why do beautiful things exist? To be possessed, then destroyed. Is it the beautiful woman who brings ruin, Or the hands that reach to claim her? Or merely the tide of longing, boundless, unrestrained? By the banks of the River Lethe, she stands, a solitary poppy, Her breath a whisper of ruin, her touch a kiss of dust. Who drinks her essence will fade, body and soul, into the void. It is not love, nor hatred, Not life, nor death, Not desire, nor sorrow. At the edge of oblivion, the flowers bloom, never to wither.