Ricky (die_young) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-11-01 14:37:00 |
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Ricky ran her fingers through her damp hair. Tonight had been a decent night, as far as the audience went. Lots of money spent at the bar. Lots of tips. Lap dances had been popular, and they paid better than sex some nights, depending on the guys. Most importantly, she hadn’t had any clients, and that meant her sheets were clean and fresh, and she could have a little after hours fun of her own. She didn’t like having Tatum over on night’s she’d been hired. The Red Door was unfailingly swift when it came to clean up, but it just didn’t feel right. The poor kid was so…well sheltered wasn’t exactly the world. But when Ricky looked at her, she wondered just how she’d gotten mixed up in a life like this. She looked like the kind of girl who belonged on a college brochure, wearing some ridiculously hideous fall sweater and clutching a pile of books. Definitely not wrapped up around a girl like her, covered in tattoos and bite scars. So on nights Ricky had to use her rooms for work, she didn’t call. It just didn’t feel right.
Tonight though? Tonight she was golden. And just in time, too. Her stash was nearly empty and if one of her more frustrating vamp clients dropped by before she could get a refill she was going to be more than a little annoyed. Some guys should come with a warning label right on their forehead. “Mommy Issues.” “Sexist.” “Cheapskate.” And sometimes, just “Asshole.” She needed a little something extra on nights like that, and pot was her drug of choice. She’d never been explicitly told, but she had a sneaking suspicion that anything harder, anything that went directly into her bloodstream, might affect her taste. She’d dropped all the harder stuff when she’d been asked to start servicing the vamps and, while it had sucked at the time, she knew she was better off. Besides, the rush she got from a feeding, with one notable exception, was way better than any high could ever be.
The staff entrance to the Red Door was a lot less posh than the front door. It opened on an alleyway behind the building, and that was where she usually had Tatum meet her. After hours activities weren’t prohibited…she did pay to live there after all…but she didn’t like to flaunt it if she could help it. It might not be against the rules, but it was most likely frowned upon, and she didn’t want to test the limits too much. This job was too good.
It was just before midnight when Ricky’s set ended. She showered quickly, pulled her hair up in a pony tail, and threw on some more comfortable clothes before heading down to meet Tatum. She sometimes worried about how much she looked forward to these nights. They were business transactions, but she enjoyed them. Tatum never crowded her, or made demands on her, like she’d been afraid she might when they’d first come up with this little arrangement. And, if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she found her attractive, in a far too innocent for my tastes kind of way. She was a little too vanilla for Ricky to take her seriously, but having her in small doses was more than okay. Sometimes, on slow work nights, she’d fantasize about what it would be like to really corrupt her. She pictured taking her to get her first tat. She liked the idea of dressing her up in some leather, maybe even one of her dance outfits. The image always made her smile, but she never acted on it, as much as she wanted to on occasion.
Ricky pulled open the door and stepped into the alley, her eyes adjusting slowly to the gloom after the bright lights inside. “Tate?” she called, waiting for the spots in her eyes to clear and let her see properly. |