Acts of desperation

It was a cold windy night. Within the windows of a popular strip club in the heart of Manhattan, a young girl's eyes stared across the windows of the cold cell like room. She watched the swaying tree directly across the window, admiring it existence which was very different from hers. She was also checking out the weather outside: it seemed very windy, cold and uncertain; the wind blowing in an opposite direction than usually would. She compared the state of the weather to her life, evrythng about it at the moment seemed wrong; just like her life and how she was feeling at that very moment.

It was going to be an unusually cold night. She was very familiar with cold nights; she'd lived through enough of them to know when one was coming on strong. And she knew too that bad things always accompanied cold nights. But this night, she didn't need the weather to know it'll end up bad in every way possible. She was certain of her near future's fate.

The girl sat in front of a mirror, staring at her reflection, lost and not in herself. Everything was wrong: even tge image in the mirror; it seemed to be contradictive to what her heart was seeing. All dolled up like a queen, long waves of medium blonde hair flowing down her shoulders, ocean blue eyes staring back at her, telling her she was this pretty but with a questionable motive, judging her and beggingbher to stop, turn around and change her mind. The tears she'd been fighting for so long, longer than before she found herself frustrated and doomed to one single solution. A rogue tear escaped her eyes but she quickly and carefully rubbed it off before it could turn her from beauty to beast, make her as ugly as she felt.

Down at the clubs bar:

There was a man, at the bar, getting wasted in alcohol. He chunked down one more glass of Vodka, the strongest they had. The pleasure he felt when the fire of the raw alcohol burned down his throat. He shoved a thousand dollar stack in between the double Ds of a brunette dancing almost naked on a pole in front of him. He was so turned on by everywhere; but she wasn't working for him. She would have been he thought, she would have been if she'd been blonde instead. She dance-crawled to his face, purring her delicate little fingers against his shirt. He cupped her cheeks, pulled her closer, drunkenly gazing into her honey brown eyes.

No! He pushed her back.

He wanted them to be blue like the ocean. He wanted her pepper red matte coloured lips to be pink and soft. He wanted her to look exactly like the woman who had him in the state he was in, the same woman he'd left in his matrimonial home to be in a strip club: but she wasn't. She was just the very opposite of everything Sophia was. Even her body looked nothing like the light rosy skin his wife had. But this stripper in front of him was the only woman present at the time of his need and not his wife.

Of course not his wife; he was in a strip club after all.

He pushed her again gently aside and moved towards a round table just across the dancing poles. A plus size afro woman sat with a bunch of guys who all looked like they all were about to fit themselves into her. He leaned into her ear from behind her seat and whispered something which seemed to have excited her. She then called one of her waitresses and asked him to follow the girl upstairs.

"You'll love this one, I promise!" The lady squirmed with excitement.

He just followed the waitress to the up a flight of stairs, down a corridor that lined along about ten doors. His eyes gazing shamelessly at the black skirt that hung slightly above her butt cheeks.

"Room 5," the waitress told him with a wink before disappearing back down the stairs. He strode towards the doors, counting drunkenly as he walked pass any, till he was in front of the room numbered 5. He stopped. Pressed his palms against his forehead for a moment. For a brief minute a voice inside his head told him to turn around, go back home, go back to his wife and forget everything they'd argued about. He wanted to convince himself to do otherwise than the actual, but, he looked down at his state: heavily drunk, sad and horny.

No.

He was going to go vack home to the woman he loved like that. He told himself. Maybe hell go sober up somewhere else, decent, first before going home.

But in that same moment, his predicament hit him; all the emotions that had driven him into this club came crashing down on him, and with those thoughts, he pushed open through the door.

Beside the dim lit lamp, the young blonde girl sat at the head of the bed, waiting for her fate to drop. It wasn't being forced upon her but was by her choice.

His attention was first caught by the the colour of her hair- the perfect shade of blonde.

A royal blue knee length dress curved out her petite figures and her cheekbone shun a glittering gold, as could be seen from the side profile she was giving; though the same could not be said of her blue eyes.

A cold air blew across the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. She'd heard the door creak open. She knew he was there already; she could feel his presence. She thought about backing out but then immediately mentally pinched herself for a quick reality check.

You need to do this Mara! You must do this! She mentally told herself.

He towered himself over her petite figure.

Goosebumps rose on her goosebumps as fear overtook all her emotions. She had heard his footsteps in sequences of twos approaching. She felt his presence getting closer. She quickly jumped to her feet and turned to the opposite direction.

It will be easier if I don't see his face. she told herself.

She gasped at the feel of his warm breath on her neckline; he was inhaling her scent.

She smelled like vanilla and pleasure. Just like he wanted her to.

Deep inside her mind, she told herself, the moment she had dreaded for the past days since the idea was brought up to her, as a means to earn a part of the money she was in dying need of, the day had finally come; the moment had finally arrived. It was against every single one of her own principles; against every single principle by which her poor mother had raised her in all love and care; against everything she knew and abode by: today she was going to wilfully throw it all in the mud.

But then again, she thought, what other choice did she have. This was for an extreme emergency cause.

She shivered again as she felt his fingers trail a line lightly from her neck to her shoulders down to her arms. His touch was as light as a feather.

A soft gasp escaped her lips at the feel of his big hands squeezing her thighs.

He grabbed her by the waist and softly swayed her around to face him. His blue eyes, dark and drunk meeting hers; scared, pained, on the verge of loosing her sanity.

The perfect blue eyes and pink lips.

Yes!

She was perfect for him. Just what he wanted at that moment.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the pain; perhaps it was the agony or the desperation, that blinded him from seeing that the glass in her eyes were not part of the makeup, but pools of tears swelling up. Maybe it was his selfishness at that time that blinded him from seeing that beyond that pretty face and sexy dress, was a vulnerable little girl, much younger than him, hanging on the brink of her sanity.

Without thinking twice or even once, he crashed his lips down on hers in a breath taking, intoxicating and utterly erotic kiss. His big hands caressing the dress off from her body.

She couldn't even attempt to kiss him back. How could she when she felt emotionally drained and dragged down by the mud in which she had just dumped herself. Ropes of tears ran down her cheeks as he pushed her into the bed. She simply closed her eyes and savoured the emptiness she felt inside.

Her ego had been beating, her pride smashed and her dignity stolen.

Her life was officially over.