Shades of Suffering

Music, turned up to the loudest possible volume.

Sweat, so much that you can taste it in the air, smell it on your clothes.

Bodies, some lively and dancing or grinding on each other. Others not so lively... Trapped... Tortured somewhere no one can see.

I just happen to be the not so lucky of the two.

The cold metal of the silver pole I'm forced to dance on, sends chills up my neck. Two girls dancing beside me, both with ecstatic expressions of lust.

Needless to say, we have a difference of opinion when it comes to the job.

The skimpy bra and booty shorts they give us chafe against my skin as my body moves up and down to the deafening music. But my eyes...my eyes held no emotion except fear, fear of the punishment I will receive if I do a bad job.

All the girls have different outfits, some have undergarments on, some have a bra and shorts, lingerie, or just panties!

‘Sin.’ The most popular club in New York, as I am reminded of by the amount of people in here every night... Or day, I'm not sure anymore.

I'm brought back to reality by a subtle elbow to the ribs, delivered by the blood and next to me. I spread my legs, reach back and grab the pole then shimmy my way down to a squat.

I obviously do a satisfactory job from the way the crowd hollers and whoops. I spin around and stick my ass in the air, all the while holding the pole in front of me. The current song ends, signalling that three other girls are taking over. I stand and quickly follow behind my fellow dancers to a side stage door.

Two brunettes and a blond take our place on stage. “Sexy as always girls” Daryl, the owner of the club, tells the dancers who were on stage with me. Then he turns to me... And he just glares... Just glares, that's all. Like I don't even deserve to hear his words of hatred, which in all honesty, is great for me.

We walk down the concrete hallway and reach a cross road. One way goes to where the other dancers get changed and ready to do their job, the other... The other goes to where girls like me are kept.

It’s cold, dark and generally an unpleasant place to be. What do you mean “Girls like me, ” you ask? Well good question, you see, we were all abducted.

Jackson's POV

‘Would you just hurry up and pick one?’ I groan in annoyance at Lincoln’s inability to pick a club for our friend Matt’s bachelor party. I've been friends with both Lincoln and Matt since out collage days.

God, those were crazy times... I Don't even remember half of it, the parts that I didn't spend in lecture halls were all blacked out blurs. I was probably either drunk or sleeping with my latest conquest. I was reckless, I was... Stupid. Thank god those days are over for us, or at least for me.

I haven't had a glass to my lips in years thanks to what happened back then. And I Don't ever plan to again. My friends, on the other hand, when Don't they?

‘Okay, Okay what about this one?’ Lincoln suggests, pulling me from my thoughts. I lean over the coffee table between the three of us so that I can get a good look at his phone. On it is a photo of numerous angles of the club. Photos of the inside are also there along with a blurb near the bottom.

‘Just take it’ he says and pushes the phone into my hands. I scroll down to the text, no doubt up selling the club. Matt looks over my shoulder and shakes his head.

‘Nah, we can't go there, my cousin went there for his 22nd and came home with a broken arm’

‘Your cousin's a punk’ I mutter under my breath, making Lincoln chuckle. I raise an eyebrow at him in a questioning manner. ‘Who says punk anymore, dude?’ he laughs, I'm glad Lincoln can joke like this with us again.

His ex really did a number on him. She was cheating the whole time, meanwhile, he was head over heels for the first time and fell hard for her... He didn't do a lot of anything for a while, but it seems like he's stronger now.

“Who says dude anymore, dude?” I throwback at him and join in on their laughter. “Wait, so are we going here?” Matt asks with furrowed eyebrows, I look at Lincoln and shrug.

“I Don't see why not?” I say to the group making Lincoln shake his head in disapproval.

“...It's your funeral...”

“Well, then you better bring flowers” I retort scroll to the bottom of the club's page, looking for their number. “I'm calling them now, shut up,” I tell them as I press the number.