Chapter Two -Stripper

CHAPTER TWO

Shirley's POV

The words hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, suffocating me with their toxicity. My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage as if trying to break free from the grip of fear that had taken hold of me.

"A strip club?" I choked out. "You expect me to degrade myself like some cheap commodity?"

Lucas Gambino's icy stare bore into me, as his lips curled into a sneer. "You'll do as I say, rossa," he spat. "Or have you forgotten who holds the power in this room? You owe me money, and you will do as I say!"

I clenched my fists, fury coursing through my veins like molten lava. "I'd rather die than submit to your twisted demands! Strip club, my foot!"

His laughter echoed off the walls, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You think you have a choice, darling?" he taunted, stepping closer until his breath brushed against my cheek like a frigid breeze. "You signed a contract with me when you came for my help, did you not? Did you even read the content of the contract? I'm sure you didn't."

My heart fought a battle in my chest as I stared at the man. Lips curving in a smile, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued. "Well, rossa, permit me to refresh your memory. The content of the contract goes thus: that in the event that you do not pay me back within six months of giving you the loan, then I am allowed to get my money from you in any way I damn well deem fit. In case you're confused, that means I can do whatever I want with you!"

I recoiled in disbelief. "That's not true!"

"Oh, it is! You have no choice in this!" He snapped. And before I could reply, the man turned to the door and snapped his fingers twice, loudly.

The door burst open, and two of his black-clad men walked in.

"Boss," they called out, bowing low.

Lucas Gambino jerked his head towards me. "Get her ready for the strip club at Staten Island. And if she resists, do not hesitate to use force."

"Affirmative, boss." One of the men replied.

The men promptly turned to me, their faces grim and menacing. My heart screeched to a stop in my chest, and I staggered backwards.

No....this could not be happening....

"Lucas....Sir, Mr Gambino...." I stuttered as the men curled their hands around my arms tightly. "Give me a few more weeks, sir. I promise to pay you. I will pay you!"

Lucas Gambino cocked an impressive eyebrow. "Oh, will you? I gave you enough grace, Shirley McWood. It's been over seven months since I borrowed you the money. Take her away!"

Drained of hope, I let myself be dragged away from the man, who was staring at me with not a shred of expression on his face. Terror enveloped me from head to toe, and every inch of me ached to run away from this, from all of it.

However, I knew it was pointless. I would be found and dragged back to Lucas Gambino before I could even make it past the gates of his mansion.

I was practically yanked outside and towards a waiting black van. One of the men pushed open the door, and pushed me inside by the small of my back. I sat on the hard leather seat inside, awaiting my fate.

The journey to the strip club took no less than an hour from Lucas Gambino's Manhattan mansion. Loud, raucous music greeted me first as I was yanked out of the van unceremoniously. I caught a glimpse of the bright lights spilling from the strip club's interior, before I was shoved towards the back of the building.

I walked in silence, with two burly men in front of me and two even burlier men behind me. Running away again was not even an option at this point.

"Stop!" One of the men behind me ordered, and we came to a stop in front of a metal door with a rusty handle.

One of the men pushed open the door with his shoulder, and ushered me into a dressing room.

Inside were rows and rows of clothes that were nothing more than scraps of fabric. I stared around in awe for a few seconds, before hearing a gruff voice behind me.

"Knock on the door when you're ready!" He growled and pulled the door close.

I hurriedly picked up the first dress my fingers could find—a short, silver, bare-backed number—and threw it on. Slipping my feet into the shortest pair of heels I could find, I knocked on the door.

The guards led me down the corridor and closer to the pounding music of the strip club. We continued walking till we got inside the dimly lit strip club.

The thumping music and flickering lights of the strip club made my heart stutter with fear. I approached the pole on the stage, my unsteady footsteps echoing ever so loudly. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for me to take my place in this grotesque performance.

I squeezed my eyes shut to steady my breathing. Then, I grabbed the pole and began to gyrate around it.

At first I was unsteady, as the heels still felt like extra limbs to me. I knew if I continued this way, I would either fall flat on my face or twist both of my ankles. In a desperate attempt to look seductive, I kicked the platform heels away, sending them across the stage. Some of the men hollered in response while others flung bills at me. Then I continued my attempt at dancing.

The room began to close up on me as sweat poured down my body. The bills they threw at me stuck to my forehead, my calves, my shoulders. I felt filthy and useless, and I knew I had to escape before my body collapsed in on itself.

Moved by a burst of inspiration, I turned to see a guard standing at the exit of the strip club. I threw all caution to the wind and raced towards him, grabbing one of my heels on the way.

"Hey!" I heard the men howl in protest behind me, but I did not stop. The guard lunged at me, trying to get a hold of my hair and tug me backwards. However, I was faster.

"Tell your boss I said to fuck off!" I snarled at him. And with the last of the strength in my body, I raised my hand and knocked the heel into the guard's face.

I turned and disappeared into the exit.