4 - An ant in the dust

  Either Hermosa should get to her knees and try to suck him off, or she should purse her lips in time like she really wants a deep kiss. Then, Brent would have had the opportunity to treat him badly, call her a bitch, or 'punish' her as he desired.

  But there was nothing, and Hermosa took Brent's fingers in stride, her lips spilling out in crystalline saliva as her teeth were pried open and stirred around the soft tongue.

  Would this make her feel funny? Seducing a man and then watching him go crazy over himself with lust.

  "Oooh ...... Brent, sir ......"

  Brent was pulled back to reality by Hermosa's pleading voice. He dropped his eyes and saw Hermosa's teary eyes filled with begging, those lips were already swollen with her own, her lipstick woefully melting away. His own fingers were being wrapped around her soft tongue, even if it didn't make him comfortable to do so.

  Brent withdrew his hand and wiped the saliva and tart juice from it with a tissue, "Sweet?"

  Hermosa stammered, embarrassed and unable to speak.

  She shuddered at the thought of what his actions had meant and glanced up at Brent with a red face.

  She found Brent looking at her too.

  Hermosa looked away in a panic and glanced at the clock on the wall, "...I must go now, sir...Elisa used to listen to stories at night before bed, could you please tell her some?"

  “Yeah, I will." Brent used to be the most popular big brother in the hearts of the younger members of the family if that accident hadn't happened.

  "Well, call me if Elisa gives you any trouble or if there's a sh or any emergency." She looked around, and in her haste, she pulled out the grease pen on the coffee table and grabbed Brent's hand to write down a series of numbers. The tip of the pen tickled Brent's palm, but what tickled him more was the warmth of Hermosa's hand as she held him, like a small feather tugging at his heart.

  He wears gloves when he works, and even when he takes them off, Brent hates to be touched. Everyone who knows him well knows that.

  But Hermosa was different. She took his hand so naturally, oblivious to his intrusion into someone else's private territory, and the touch of his warm hand on Brent's sensitive fingertips was like a tiny string of electricity that sent tingles through Brent's heart.

  "Is that okay?"

  Hermosa carefully raised her eyes to Brent's for a moment after writing. He clearly see her thickly fluttering eyelashes and the small, moving mole under her eye.

  "Yes..." Brent replied. He watched as Hermosa curled her eyes into a soft smile and hurried out the door. Her two legs are blindingly bright against the slightly darkening sky.

  Night shift. Tight shorts. Sprayed with perfume before leaving the house. And those awkward seductions.

  She really was a gentleman's club for a hundred knives to touch.

  For tourists ready to splash out here, the names LA, Bunny City, FKK Bar ...... are tantamount to paradise. But if ask the people who actually work here what these places are,  they usually say it's hell, full of abuse, oppression and whispers of disease.

  After 12 o'clock, the Super Buck pub gets crowded. There are five women dressed in black bikinis standing on a little stage. Hermosa, the main dancer, has a baby face, but her body and face are the most stunning of all the female dancers, more so than the others. She danced around the pole next to her, the orange and red lights reflecting seductively off her heavily made-up face.

  The waist of Hermosa was silky. As she sways her hips against the pole, her figure undulates like a wave, and the flesh of her big buttocks and the bases of her legs shiver. As she slid backwards with her legs attached to the pole, the muscles of her waist and stomach contracted into an attractive curve, and a thin bead of sweat covered her dazzling white skin.

  "Whew, ha ......"

  Hermosa gasped as she remained on her back on stage and smiled seductively at the males at the conclusion of the song. A wayward strand of hair, distributed around her lips as a result of an exaggerated movement, detracted from the ostentatious appearance of her "elaborate" makeup and imparted a hint of unease and untamedness. Yet it is soft and innocent, like the bright petals of a flower in the snow that cannot change its pure white colour.

  Perhaps it was for this reason that Hermosa had just come off stage and was still in the dressing room when he was confronted by a short, thin young man. He had two beers in his hand and handed one to Hermosa: " Drink?"

  "Sure." Hermosa smiles a little shyly, takes the beer and tilts his head. She said "drink", but in fact, she spilled most of it on her clothes. The thin jacket was drenched through and clung to her body, revealing the tight black tank top underneath. It was a trick she had been taught by her"seniors" when she first started in this business at the age of fifteen, and it worked well when she didn't want to drink.

  The man's eyes changed and he stared straight at Hermosa's chest, who frowned and pushed the empty beer bottle aside, pretending not to see it: "Thanks."

  "Do you have somewhere to go tonight?" The man asked suddenly.

  "What?" Hermosa feigned confusion and sidled up to let a couple of girls who were getting ready to go on stage walk down the narrow aisle.

  "What do you mean? What's wrong with you bitch?" The man laughed nastily, grabbed Hermosa's arm and pushed her against the wall, whispering in his ear, "I've heard them all, you've only just come of age eighteen. To be honest, I've played with a lot of bitches, I've never played with a little baby under twenty  yet."

  "Sir." The man's smell of cigarettes and alcohol was strong and choking. Hermosa resisted the urge to throw up and looked away, a forced smile still in her voice, "Get up first, we'll have a talk."

  "What, you don't like me?"

  The man frowned unhappily as if he was about to snap her arm in the next moment.

  Hermosa's heart hung in her throat and her spine instinctively pressed against the hard wall.

  "She won't, I will."

  A raspy female voice suddenly interjected. Alice, dressed in a sailor's outfit, approached one of the performers of the last Japanese schoolgirl dance: "Handsome, we're all here to have fun. Wouldn't it be nice to have a good time?"

  She said as she put her arm around the man's shoulders, hooked him to herself and whispered something in his ear.

  "Fuck, you're telling the truth?!" The man cursed in surprise and gave Hermosa a look back in undisguised disgust, "Fucking bad whore."

  "Don't be angry." Alice laughed and said ambiguously, "I promise to be clean. What did you say, do you want to go with me? Handsome..."

  Hermosa watched their backs with relief and buried her face in her hands for a moment to calm down before starting to pack up for the next performers.

  "You're not even mad about what she said about you?"

  Maggie, a young girl who was close to Hermosa, came up to her and said, "Who's sick, she's sick! It's not enough to talk behind people's backs all the time, now she's talking in front of them."

  "I don't want to take customers anyway, so she can do as she pleases." Hermosa smiled indifferently, since he had Elisa he had been using the rumour of his 'STD' to avoid overnight clients, "She's doing me a favour."

  Maggie shook her head in disbelief, "I don't understand you, there's money to be made, don't you want to make enough money to get out of this shithole before it's too late?"

  "Of course, I want to, but ......" Hermosa looked at her. The young woman exuded youth, but the last thing the gentlemen's club lacked was a youth. Its prosperity had been sustained by innumerable individuals who had spent their youth there, individuals who would be drained of their last blood and tears before being devoured by the vast darkness, without a single bone remaining.

  This is their destiny, and how can the ants in the wind and dust fight against it?

"You don't understand."

  Hermosa looked at her and sighed. There was little time left for her to survive in this young skin, but the more she did so, the more she wanted to cling to something needlessly, for the sake of dignity that should never have been there for people like them.