Chapter 3 - Cassandra's viewpoint:
990 Words
The last minute before going up on stage, I checked my costume to make sure everything was in place.
My white outfit, sheer and delicate, was cute and sexy, though it left little to the imagination, revealing a skimpy white bikini underneath.
As I moved towards the stage, I scanned the crowd, and then strutted sexily on to the stage. The sight was overwhelming – a gaggle of gawping men occupying the seats gazing at me with their lustful, lurid, and leering faces. I felt a knot in my stomach, but pushed it aside.
Time to do my job. I swayed slowly, letting the rhythm of the music take over. My body followed the beat, every movement deliberate and fluid.
A few men dropped bills into the “church” collection box passed around by one of the “priestesses”—almost reverently, as if paying homage to a God, or rather Goddess – me the “s*x Goddess”. Some tossed crumpled notes onto the altar (stage), their adoration palpable.
As I untied my robe, one man stood out among the crowd. His wolf gaze was intense, traveling from my face and along the contours of my body, focusing on those feminine parts of me, almost as if he wanted to consume my very flesh raw.
I quickly looked away, trying to shake off the strange feeling that seemed to wash over me, like I was caught in a moment I couldn't control.
“f**k, what’s going on?” I whispered to myself, unsure of the turmoil stirring inside me.
Hooting and hollering, the mens’ chants grew louder.
“Take it off! Take it off!” the salivating men shouted as if they wanted to devour every single morsel of my succulent virgin flesh.
I kept my composure, swaying to the music, and slowly tugged at the strings of my bikini top, letting the scrap of material fall away, fully exposing my luscious breasts and their pink, pert n*****s that seemed to point at them in accusation – saying,
“Is this how you treat your mother, daughter, sister and wife – shame on you! These n*****s gave you life when you were a baby snot-nosed boy – now you just mock them like upstarts!”.
I massaged my breasts while dancing and ran my fingers between my legs, stroking the triangle of my bikini bottom. The men became more impatient.
A few men shouted impatiently, urging me to do more. There was a small hesitation, but I kept my back turned, untying the strings of my bikini bottom. With a quick spin, I turned back to face the crowd, now fully exposed except for the mask.
The man who had been gazing at me intently with a ravenous gaze was still there, his expression unreadable, but something about him seemed different.
He wasn’t like the others—his gaze held a certain depth that intrigued me, touching something deep inside me – perhaps a promise of “deep” adoration.
In other words, this must be the man Mamu told me about, I thought, trying to focus. He had an almost boyish charm, yet there was a masculine air to him, like a mix of Channing Tatum and Nick Bateman. I knew that type: a mix of strength and softness that often caught women’s attention.
The music eventually faded, and I quickly grabbed my robe from the floor, covering myself again. I hurriedly gathered my things, feeling both relief and confusion, and made my way back to the dressing room.
---
“Well done, sweetheart!” Mamu’s voice startled me as I was getting ready to leave.
“Mr. Larrazabal wanted you to come to his table for a chat,” she said with a wink. But before she could continue, I shook my head firmly, signaling my refusal.
“No, thank you,” I said quickly.
“No worries,” Mamu replied,
“I told him you were unavailable, and offered him some of the other girls, but he declined.”
I sighed in relief, but the feeling from earlier—the strange connection with that man—lingered in the back of my mind. Part of the contract I had signed with the club was to keep my identity hidden, which was a protective measure for both myself and my family.
“Still... he wanted me to give you this,” Mamu added, handing me a small piece of paper. I took it from her, but didn’t read it immediately.
Once Mamu left, I looked at the note. It was brief but left a strange tingle inside me that seemed to wander along the inside of my thighs to the very core of me:
“Cassie,
Truly, your mystifying presence fascinates me even more... I hope to see you again soon.
Alessandro”
***
I slid the note into my bag, but before I could leave the make-up room, I saw Trixie coming with her bitchy friends.
“Uhh-uh, I don’t give a damn f**k about you – you bratty little b***h. No, not this time or ever,” I spouted, and then was silent – waiting for the coming onslaught.
But then Trixie's father, Boss J, entered the room, his presence commanding attention.
"Hmmm, ahem," he cleared his throat, stroking his distinguished grey beard.
“Cassie, my daughter,” he glanced at Trixie,
“has something to say to you.”
Trixie shifted uncomfortably.
“Umm… I just wanted to say... I’m sorry. For what happened.” Her voice was low, and she couldn’t quite meet my eyes as she spoke.
I blinked, taken aback by the apology. I wasn’t expecting this.
I softened. “No need to apologize,” I said, realizing the situation wasn’t entirely her fault.
“It’s my fault too.”
We shared a brief, awkward hug, and then they left, the tension lifting from the room.
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