Deceitful Desires

The sun beams through th of my white singlet; scolding my fair skin as my slender hand rips through the loose items in the various pockets of my purse.

Lipstick, a couple of cents, a receipt, lotion, a brush, another crumpled receipt, but no bloody charger in here. My hand flies over to the broken zipper on the outside of the purse and I tear the flyer open, not bothering to be careful about more of the fake leather peeling off the black bag. Guiding my eyes away, I search the side of the pavement alongside the small, congested road for any sign that could possibly be, Glidyns St, but of course the only one that comes into sight is one that boldly states, New Street.

I heave out a sigh.

Oh, how original, really putting all that money the council raised to good use, I see. And of course, they haven't updated it up onto google maps yet, so I have zero clue where I am right now.

My dead phone sits in the back pocket of my mini charcoal skirt, mockingly, as my ankle boots clank against the pavement. My gaze shifts to each individual building, praying I'll find at least one building that'll be my saving grace and help guide me to this interview.

I can't miss another one.

Fuck, Pepper's gonna be pissed. I missed the first one because my tired ass slept through it, I can't miss another one because I was to incompetent to charge my bloody phone.

My teeth gnaw at my bottom lip as a faint protest echos from behind me.

A lady struggling to pull herself from her car due to the upward angle she's parked at, catches my gaze. I waddle over in my size-to-small boots and make my way to her.

"Here, let me," gently taking her frail hand in mine, I pull her out of the entrapment of her own navy blue car. She breathes out a sigh of relief and meets my eyes with a grateful tug at her lips.

"Gosh, thank you," she breaths out an awkward laugh, "probably would have been stuck in there all day."

"It's totally fine. We've all been in a bit of an odd position before," she puckers her snakish lips and nods her head in agreement, her locks swaying with the motion.

A thought takes hold in my mind, but I won't lie and say I'm not hesitate about asking her about it. I quickly glance over the designer clothes clocked over her figure, and the tight curls swaying past her shoulder; both things that are hard to come by in this small town, unless you have the coin to access the people who provide those luxuries.

And people like that usually don't know how to keep certain things to themselves, and in a small town like this, that's something you'd want to avoid.

But do I really have a choice though?

"I'm actually in bit of an odd situation myself, right now," my fingers tangle together as my gaze adverts hers for a second, "uh, any chance you know where Vixen is?" I say, gingerly.

Her brows farrow and my stomach starts to curl. Her eyes begin to distance, as if she's in thought. A few seconds pass before answering, her gaze now shape.

"Oh, you mean that night club just around the corner?" My eyes widen and I nod my head eagerly, my dark burgundy hair bouncing with it.

She gives me more detailed instructions on how to get there; go down to the intersection, turn right and go down five buildings and it will be the one with bright neon pink sign.

"Thank you!" I shout, attempting to run down the tilting path.

I try to ignore her eyes following me down the street, like the hunter stalking it's prey.

The tips of my painted, glossy black nails slip between the hem of my denim skirt as I heave it down, coming to a halt in front of the building the lady before had described.

I know night clubs are typically a place where people get 'risqué' while out at night, but I just don't get why all those type of people come to the conclusion that it's not a 'proper' job. If I could have gotten a waitress job, where all I had to deal with were the uptight rich bozos, I would've. But their standard for employment in this backward town means I can't, so handling their 'alcoholic beverages' is currently all I can afford to get at the moment.

Without hesitating, I push the hefty, oak door open and slip my way through to a space filled with various neon colours decorating the exterior. Dark wooden tables line the wall on one side of establishment, with dark purple booths; whilst on the other side, three platforms are parted a few feet away from one another, four meters off of the ground with a long sliver pole going up the middle.

This...isn't what the Facebook ad advertised when I applied.

My hand stenches out to the back of my again as I rip it out and click the side bottom repeatedly, praying it'll magically switch back on.

I shake my head slowly as I mutter the word 'no' under my breath.

I did not set myself up for an interview at a strip club, nowhere in the messages we exchanged or on the Facebook post did it ever mention it was a 'gentleman's' club. I might not be a bloody rocket scientist, but I'm sure as hell not dumb enough to miss such a thing.

God, I wouldn't even know the first thing about wrapping my body around a pole well enough to arouse somebody else. The only thing I could probably do on one of those things is do a little twirl like I used to on poles around the road when I was younger, and somehow I'd still get pole burn.

A clicking against wood falls within hearing shot, just ahead of me. "Miss Thornton, good to see you actually showed up this time..." her thinly plucked brows ache upwards, "maybe you'll show up on time for the next interview, instead of twenty minutes after it's meant to have started." She turns away from me, swiftly

I attempt to get closer to her, but the sand paper interior of my boot scapes against the sides of my feet when I take a step towards her, making me wonder if there's a grater inside of the shoe.

I swallow, and slowly return to the position I was standing in before daring to part my dried lips. "I know, and I know there's nothing I can say to you that can describe how sorry I am..." I take in a deep breath and hold it for a second, "but, if you take this chance on me, I promise you won't regret it, I'll do-"

Her pin straight hair shines in the low light as she swings her head back around, her eyes bore into mine as a tinge of irritation washes over her smooth features, "you can't even show up to something as simple as an interview, how on earth do you think you'll be able to show up to a shift. I do not accept tardiness from any of my employees, and I certainly would not start with you,"

She gives her knee length skirt a swift dust off with her long delicate fingers.

"It's best you go, Miss Thornton."

I can't just go...this is my last chance before I lose the house. Everything my father worked for, for all those years, the back breaking work he had to endure. I can't just let it be taken away for some loaded, uptight snob to buy and then demolish our house.

My home.

What would my father have thought of me then?

Pepper's over near the bar now, with a dark blue clothe, she gives the cups a quick wipe before setting the glasses on top of the wooden bench. My feet move instinctively towards her, ignoring the growing welts on the sides of my them.

"I promise, if you just give me a chance, I can-" the flow of my words halt, as I notice Pepper isn't focused on the glass in front of her anymore, but oddly on my shoes.

With a quick glance down to the scuffed and pealing boots, I once again intertwine my fingers in a death grip far greater then any snake could ever attempt. She places the damp clothe down, and with long glossy nails, she points down to my shoes.

"What size are those shoes?"

I mutter, "a size six, ma'am."

Why is she so focused on my shoes? I know they don't look the part for her bar, but still doesn't really explain it.

Her eyes shoot up to meet my gaze in a feline matter, "and what size are your feet?"

"Um, it's-I'm a size eight." Does she want the shoes?

"Then why are you wearing such small shoes?" Her brows are farrowed when prompting her question.

Barely above a whisper, I reply, "because...these are the only nice shoes I own, the only other shoes I own are sneakers," my eyes don't connect with hers now, instead finding anything else in the room to study as heat rises up my neck.

I couldn't possibly wear those anyway, I'd worn them so many times over the past month trying to get to anyone who would hire me, that I'd worn holes into the soles of the feet, leaving gaping atrocities for all to see when I walked anywhere.

Pepper straightens her posture. "Miss Thornton, may I ask how you got here today?" Her voice cuts through the room.

My eyes finally meet with her dark irises.

"I walked."

She visibly breaths in through her nose. She turns toward the bench again, slipping a piece of paper she has in-front, in between her fingers and tilts it upwards so she has a better view of it. My eyes fall upon the sheet of paper with my details written across it in black ink.

I remember the night I made them, about ten in total, each took me about thirty minutes just to finish because I was attempting to make it look as neat as possible, hoping employers wouldn't be bothered by my naive attempts. Unfortunately, I've never had the neatest handwriting.

Her brows rise up slowly. "You live quite a bit out, that's a least a twenty-minute travel by car...can't image how long it took you to walk here." She lets the paper slip out between her fingers.

She turns to me know, eyes gliding up my figure, as if she's inspecting each and every inch of my curves.

"Your first shift starts on Wednesday, you'll need to bring a birth certificate, your bank details and your tax file number, and I want you here at 2pm, on the dot, no later Miss Thornton."

Her slender back now faces me as she strides out of the room. "One of my guys are about to go home and he lives in the same area as you, so he'll be able to give you a lift home. He'll just be another five minutes."

I go to protest, but I'm cut off before anything can get past my lips.

"That wasn't an offer, you will be getting that lift home," she glances at my shoes in disgust, "and do take those shoes off before getting into his truck," her voice is firm as she exits the room, leaving only the sound of her pointed heals clicking against the floorboards