I Like You Better In Pink part 1

Chapter 10

“Welcome, Natasha. I've been waiting,” Ryan said.

“What happened to your pink hair?” Ryan, who was also wearing a mask, asked.

“It's a wig. I'm feeling brunette is better tonight,” Ivy replied.

“I'll spend an hour with you. I want to dance on stage tonight.”

“Why? I paid exclusively for you.”

“You paid for me without asking me if I exclusively wanted to dance for you.”

“I'll double the payment,” Ryan countered.

“I don't want it.” Sighing heavily, Ivy felt she might be stepping on his toes, but like Mama said, I get whatever I allow.

“What can I do to stop you from dancing on that stage? I'll pay you—name your price.”

“I can't be bought. That's what you don't get, do you?”

He violently stood up and held Ivy by the neck, making her gasp. She expected to be choking by now, but she wasn't. His hands were stern, unmoving on her neck, yet soft—not in a way that could hinder her from breathing.

“Please, call me Ryan.”

“I want a lap dance, Ivy,” he coarsely whispered in her ear.

“I do not know if I can give a lap dance.” He let her go unwillingly; her skin was soft against his, and he loved it. He wanted to touch her everywhere, but he knew he couldn't. He wondered what she meant by saying she didn't know if she could give a lap dance.

She walked off to the stage to begin dancing. Moving slowly to the music while making eye contact with Ryan, who was already seated, she felt pushed by the way he looked at her. She let herself off the stage and moved closer step by step to where he was seated. She had never given anyone a lap dance; maybe there was a first time for everything.

She sat on him in a straddling position, grinding her body against him. *What am I doing?* she thought to herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said, about to stand up when he held her hand.

“No, you’re doing great. Keep going, Ivy,” Ryan said breathily as he moved along with her. She didn't like that she was feeling things in areas she didn’t know she could feel, and they started to ache for more. They were at this point dry humping each other. Lost in the moment, Ryan reached to grab her breasts; she flinched, cutting off whatever was about to happen.

“Oh, your time is up. Excuse me,” Ivy practically ran out of there.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“I'm fine, Mama. I'll be dancing on stage next; I need an introduction.”

“Oh, okay, girl.”

“Up next is a new candy! She's new, but you all know her name—Natashaaaa!” The crowd went from 5 to 100; in fact, the cheering Ivy received must have broken some scale if it were being measured.

Ivy came on stage and started to dance. She wouldn't be in denial with herself anymore; she loved it. She loved the attention and hoped she wouldn't get drunk on it, but she enjoyed it while it lasted. She decided to take a look at the crowd she was dancing for. To her surprise, there was the man she danced for not long ago—Ryan. *He’s always wearing a mask,* she thought. Most men here don’t wear masks unless they're trying to hide their identity, or maybe he just thinks he’s ugly and that would scare her off.

She looked at him; he looked at her, and she could tell he wanted to do things to her. It felt like she knew he wanted to do things to the people who looked at her. A man joined him. *Shit, Alex!* She immediately turned her back to the audience, leaving them to ponder why she stopped dancing.

Ivy made a quick mental run: she was wearing a mask and a lot of makeup, her hair was brown—there was no way he’d know she was the one. She turned to face the audience as she danced; this time, Alex had made himself comfortable in the seat beside Ryan. The way they both looked at her bothered her a lot. Alex made her feel she needed to be a good girl, while Ryan made her want to unleash hell upon the world.

An hour had passed; Ivy was done dancing. She made her way to the bar.

“Martin, water please,” she said to the bartender.

“Hey, beautiful,” a man came up to her.

“No.”

She gulped her water when another man approached.

“Would you—”

“No.”

Ivy couldn't count how many "no's" she had said since getting off stage.

“Natasha, right?” a voice said, bringing her out of her thoughts. It was Alex. She nodded, unsure if she should use her voice—maybe he'd recognize her voice, but she didn’t want to take chances.

“I tried getting your contact the last time you were here. I wanted a private dance; I still do. I didn't want to get Mama involved. The woman's starting to slack off her job; it's almost time to get her replacement.” Her replacement? *Am I missing something here?* thought Ivy.

“Are you less busy?”

“Actually, I'm dan fa da day,” she said, faking her accent and thickening her voice. Could he tell that was fake? Ivy could sense someone looking at her—it was Ryan at the far end of the room, talking to Betty without removing his eyes from her.

“You know what? Never mind, Tasha. It seems your attention is on someone else, and I don't share. Besides, I like you better in pink.”

“No, wait! I'm no one's. I'd like to dance for you; it’s no big deal,” she said, dropping the accent.

“Follow me.”

They both walked into the inner parts of the club; even she had not been here before. Alex opened a door that led them to an office. An office? Why an office?

“I don't want you to strip or seduce me. There's actually a girl in my head right now, and I want her out of it. Can you do that for me?” Alex reached to grab Ivy's mask.

“I do feel comfortable without the mask, sir.”

“Mr. Donatello, I assume. It’s only fair I see your face now that we are here.”

Alex walked to the vinyl in the room to play contemporary music. “Dance with me, Tasha.” He held his hand out for her to take, which she did, placing her other hand on his shoulder while his other hand rested on her bare back.

They flowed, and for the longest time, both Ivy and Alex felt at peace—truly at ease with each other. Alex took a whiff of her scent, and his thoughts ran to the girl in white he met at Cynthia's party. The girl he took home without any questions asked. The girl he wanted to lock in a cage and have whenever he wanted; the same girl he wanted to protect. Alex stopped moving, making Ivy raise her head.

He scrunched his eyebrows like he was thinking and looked down into her eyes. “Your eyes,” he said.

Ivy quickly pulled away, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I have to go, Mr. Donatello,” she said as she ran off. Was his mind playing tricks on him? That can't be possible.

On her way home, Ivy kept looking over her shoulder because she felt someone following her, of which she brushed off. It’s not like anyone could do her harm right now; the street was busy. Nightlife here is always busy. She needed to focus on school and work. *Why do they keep popping up in my mind?*

Ivy wasn't really into mysterious Ryan. He only sparked something in her she didn't know existed. She didn’t know how he looked; it must just be curiosity, she thought as she kept walking to the bus stop. But then there was something about Alex. Oh, Alex—since they met at that party. How would he feel once he finds out she's a stripper? He'd probably never talk to her again; he's, however, sophisticated.

The next morning in Alex's office:

“I found your girl,” Ryan said as he dropped parchments of papers on his desk.

Alex looked through them. “Everything is there. You are going to be shocked. Right there, you are looking at Ivy Queen—yeah, yeah, Ivy Queen, the last daughter of Mr. Queen.”

“What?” Alex exclaimed, looking through the pictures of Ivy with her family.

“Ivy Queen, 18, studies at the New York School of Art. Her roommate is a guy—what's his name? Tim or something. They must be dating; I'm not sure. She sold off her father's company, and just last week, the company filed for bankruptcy. She's in millions of debt. Poor girl.”

“Poor girl? YOU killed her family!” Alex pointed out.

“Hey, I only work for you.”

“Oh yeah? And did I give the order to wipe out her and her family?”

“You got shot.”

“Exactly.”

“What was I supposed to—”

“Wait for my order!”

“Where is this coming from? You were praising me because we got the shipment out, now because you found out he's Ivy's father. You regret what you did.”

“I regret nothing. I own up to whatever shit I do. But look at me, Ryan! I didn’t give that order.”

“Yeah, try to convince yourself that. I'm pissed.” Ryan angrily walked out.

“Ivy Queen? I should have known.”