His Virgin Stripper

3-Shedding the Angel

Sienna

The cold of the alleyway fueled the fire roaring in my chest. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, erasing the last trace of the girl who had spent three years playing house with a monster.

“Im in,” my voice sounded like gravel. “I’ll do it.”

Roxy’s eyes lit up, a triumphant spark dancing in them. “That’s my girl. Now, let’s go get your things. We aren't leaving a single piece of your soul in that hellhole.”

I turned toward the service door, my legs feeling like lead but my heart hammering a war beat. I needed my purse. I needed to move before the nausea returned.

Walking back into the VIP lounge was torture. The music was a physical weight, pulsing in rhythm with the sights I couldn't unsee.

My gaze flickered toward the glass before I could stop myself.

The Healer was still buried under a writhing knot of limbs, a choreographed orgy that made my skin crawl.

I suddenly felt like burning the building down.

I snatched my clutch off the velvet booth and as I turned to leave, Talia stopped. Her gaze fixed on the stage with an expression I couldn't read.

“You guys go ahead,” she said finally, her voice oddly strained. “I’m staying.”

Roxy stopped mid-step.

“You’re staying?” I repeated slowly.

Talia crossed her arms.

“I’ll confront him when he gets off stage.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“He needs to know we saw him,” she said, still staring forward. “He can’t just pretend none of this happened.”

Roxy paused, her head tilting to the side. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Talia. “You want to stay? Alone? Here?” her eyes darted to the stage.

“I can handle Dave,” Talia replied, her voice eerily calm. “He won’t harm me. I just... I need to say it to his face.”

“Whatever,” Roxy huffed, though she didn't look convinced. She grabbed my arm. “We’ve got moves to make. Let’s go, Sienna.”

—

The hotel room felt like a crime scene. Nothing had changed and somehow, that made everything worse.

The bed was still neatly made, the champagne was still chilling in its silver bucket. Rose petals were still scattered across the duvet in what once looked romantic but just looked embarrassing now.

“Wait a damn minute,” I pressed my fingers against my temple.

Roxy glanced over.

“What?”

“He did all this,” I gestured at the room, “and went to professionally shake ass in a dungeon.”

Roxy burst out laughing.

I joined her for half a second, but it came out wrong—harsh and ragged. It sounded more like disgust than humor.

I finally broke down. No sound escaped my lips, just tears slipping down as I stood there, staring at the room as the truth sank in deeper… I was an ignorant pawn in his twisted game.

Rox stood beside me rubbing my back, “Oh dear, you don't deserve this… no one does.”

She led me to a chair on the balcony, pressing me down into it. Without a word she spun and ran for the toilet, returning moments later with a box of tissues.

“I'm sorry you had to go through this.” She handed me a tissue.

"You do know you're no good at consoling people, right?" I accepted the tissue.

"And you look horrible with tears and mascara streaming down your face." She twisted her nose in disgust.

"s**t!" I totally forgot. "Was it bad when we left the club?"

She shrugged. "You looked too distraught to care."

"f**k you!"

"Love you too. Wash your face while I pack your bags." She moved to the closet muttering under her breath,

“Thank goodness you didn't pack your whole life to Las Vegas.”

I rolled my eyes, a small smile on my face as I walked into the bathroom. When my face had no mascara left on it, I dabbed it dry.

My eyes caught sight of my brush right next to Dave's. I snatched mine with the speed of lightning, a dangerous thought formed in my mind as I picked up his brush and dipped it in the toilet, holding it there for sometime.

His smile flashed before my eyes… rot in hell son of a b***h.

Walking out, I stopped at the vanity, my eyes falling on the engagement ring sitting in its velvet box. Three carats of perfect, glittering deception.

“Don’t even think about keeping it,” Roxy said, appearing in the doorway.

“I’m not keeping it,” I whispered. “I’m using it.”

My bags were handed over to a chauffeur while we carried on with our night. I don't know how she can afford that.

Roxy directed the driver to a high end pawn shop on the strip– the kind of place where people traded their legacies for one more night at the tables.

It was surrounded with cold glass and reeked of expensive cigars and quiet desperation.

I slid the ring across the counter without saying a word.

The man behind the glass barely blinked.

He inspected it carefully before sliding over a thick stack of cash. And just like that three years was reduced to paper.

Roxy snatched the money before I could even touch it.

“Great,” she announced. “Let’s go.”

The boutique she took me to didn't have a name on the door, just a neon purple sign in the shape of a serpent. Ten minutes later, I stood in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in years.

The dress was barely there–a liquid-silver mesh that clung to my body like a second skin, ending dangerously high on my thighs. On my feet were six-inch stilettos that looked like glass.

I ran a hand over the fabric slowly. My chest tightened unexpectedly. God I missed this.

I used to dress like this to perform before Dave's casual disapproval disguised as concern.

“You know I hate the way men stare at you when you perform”.

“I just think you’re too good for that kind of attention

At the time, it had sounded protective. Possessive, maybe. But still flattering in that toxic way women romanticize.

“You look lethal,” Roxy whispered, her reflection appearing behind mine in deep red lace.

—-

The Obsidian was a different breed of club. Where Dave’s place felt desperate and loud, this felt elite. It was all black marble, deep purple neon, and a silence that felt heavier than the music.

Roxy dragged me through another suspicious hidden entrance.

“What is your obsession with secret doors?” I muttered.

She grinned. “Main character behavior.”

“Hey, Lilith.” Roxy called out as soon as we got into a room packed with women slick with sweat and barely covered in lace.

“Welcome Roxy,” a woman in red 7 inch heels and bright red lipstick hugged her. “She agreed to perform?”

“Yes. Girl… that's Madame Lilith, she manages things around here.”

“Its nice to finally meet you,” she extended her hand. “ I hear you're a very good dancer?”

“Used to be.” I shook the outstretched hand.

“There’s no such thing… you're up next.”

As we stood in the wings of the stage, the familiar scent of grip-chalk and metal hit me. Two poles rose toward the ceiling, draped between them were the aerial silks I’d spent years mastering.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Rox,” I whispered.

Rox pinned me with a look. “You’ve done this routine a thousand times. The equipment is the same. Your love for dance is the same. Forget the room, just focus on the silk and how the music flows through you.”

"I won't do this without you, Rox," I whispered, my breath hitching as I looked at the equipment. "We do the duo routine or I'm out."

"I'm right here," Roxy countered, her focus absolute.

“You aren't Sienna right now,” Roxy said, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at her. “Sienna is back in that alley. You’re whoever you want to be. And you aren't doing it alone.”

She leaned in closer. "Now, pick a stage name. Something that sounds like the end of the world.”

I looked at the silver mesh reflecting the purple light. I thought of the shadows, the secrets.

“Vesper” The word felt like a secret on my tongue. “...you?”

“Rebel,” she grinned, checking her reflection one last time.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, “Tonight, a rare debut. Two angels, fallen from grace. Welcome... Rebel and Vesper.”

The crowd erupted and just like that everything became too real.

My stomach dropped so violently I nearly folded in half.

No, no, no.

This was a terrible idea. Why did I agree to this? Why was I here?

The music got louder and my breathing went shallow.

“Rox…” My voice came out embarrassingly small.

She turned instantly.

I shook my head before she could even speak.

My chest tightened.

My knees felt weak.

I took a small step back… then another.

“I can’t do this.”