Campfire Story

The Creep In the Front Row - Thriller
--This story is open for another 369 entries
--This story is open
Nov 04, 2009 09:41 AM Introduction
dsr started with:
The whiskey was working its way through her veins as quickly as Jamaica had promised. She was starting to feel the creep of warmness crawling across her buttery, honey complexioned skin. It tip toed over her legs and up her thighs, taking residence in the small triangle shaped cove between them. 
    "What you waiting fo, gal. Git that ass on the stage!" Mr. Broadway hissed this into her ear, using all of his deep Louisiana accent, and giving her an ample tap on the behind as she pushed past the curtains. She reasoned that at least he had not squeezed it, or it would have sent her into a fit of memories, all staring her antagonizing step-father and his frightening red-blooded stare. 'I need the money', she told herself. It had been a frequent self reminder in the days since the eviction warning notice on her apartment door. The thoughts rushed in and out of her like a splash of cool water as she came into the realization that she was under a harsh spotlight and nearly a hundred eyes were probing her with maximum interest.
She felt stuck at first, but then noticed that her hips were swinging sensually to the music on impulse. Perhaps it was the liquor, or the familiarity of the juke mix that was crashing down all around her. It was a popular club song that was always played at the parties she had gone to in highschool and she was used to shaking her ass to it. She reasoned with herself again, 'Back then I used to jiggle my goodies just for fun, at least now I'm getting payed for it.' And jiggle her goodies she did. Dropping down into the chinese split that Jamaica had taught her in her first days of training at the club. She slid from her interthighs onto her knees and continued popping her back and sending a vibration through her butt. A small jolt of joy cracked into her flesh like a whip and she gyrated harder. The crowd seemed to be enjoying the show. Dollar bills were cascading in like waywards raindrops and she danced in it. Moving towards the pole, she turned her behind towards the crowd and leaned down to give them a full view as well as to swipe up some of the cash. She counted them as she picked them up. 'This one is rent, this is for the gas bill, this is electricity, and this is a new pair of shoes!' God damn, no wonder these girls never seemed to want to stop.
She took a long stare at the chrome pole in the middle of the stage, wishing she were experienced enough to take a ride on it. The girls said that doing that earned them the "big faces". Instead, she began to unhook the bra she was wearing. She swung her ass around a bit and bent towards the crowd, sort of a strategic play to see if there were true spenders in the crowd. Most of the men weren't like the dirty, nasty ones everyone had described to frequent the strip clubs. A lot were members of a wedding party, here for a bachelor event. Some looked like this was freedom from the monotonous work day, but one, just one face frightened her. She had to turn around to hide her surprise. There was a man, and she didn't know how long he'd been there, staring at her in a strange way. He wasn't wagging his tongue at her like some of the others or even holding out a dollar bill and screaming for her to "take it off!" He was just sitting there, with his legs crossed, smiling at her. The eery grin made her blood boil and her goosebumps prickle. Here was a weirdo. The sort of human being she had been warned to avoid. She couldn't help it, she gave one more split, scooped up her money like a class A gold digger and hurried off stage.
She ran past Mr. Broadway who frowned under his country pimp fedora and held a cigar laced with weed. "Now where the fuck you thank you going, gal!"
Jamaica strutted forward, her big thighs fighting against eachother for personal space.
"Where you going, Honey?" She asked her, gripping her by the arms.
"I got my money so I'm gone." She commented, pulling away from Jamaica and making her way towards the old cheerleading duffel bag that she kept her street clothes in. She hurried to slip the bra off and pull on a cotton tee shirt.
"What happened? One of them dudes pull on you?" She asked,adjusting her little Pocohantas outfit and flipping her back length weave ponytail.
"No, there was this man. A really weird man. I just, I can't explain. I shouldn't have done this. I really appreciate the help but I've got my rent money so I'm just gonna go."
"But you have a group dance with Stefani and Peach. Do you know how much money their show always pulls in? They'll show you the ropes and take good care of you."
"Look, Macy. I'm done." She said, calling her friend by the name she'd first told her in the Financial Aid office at SFU. "Call me when you're off and we'll go out and get some food, k?"
"Are you sure?" Macy layed her hands on her friend's shoulders.
"I'm sure. See you later, girl. Don't worry bout me."

The night was frigid as she stepped out the back door of the club and wrapped her trenchcoat tighter around her waist. She was still wearing heels and they clicked noisily on the pavement. It reminded her of a scene in a horror film. Late night, darkened street, a lone girl walking home; the shadow of tall figure walking behind her. She soon realised that this was a reality as the glow of a streetlight fell around the darkened outline of a husky man. She sped up, a bit frightened, but empowered by the busy intersection only minutes ahead. She contemplated breaking into a full run but decided that this would only provoke whoever was following her.
"Hey, hey wait!" The voice of a man shouted.

Jan 16, 2010 12:41 PM Entry #1
StephersG wrote:
Walking faster, she berated herself for not getting a taxi to take her home. Sure it would have cost money, but at least she wouldn't be dead in the morning. His voice continued to follow her as she started into a job. Another few corners and she would be home. Please go away Mister.
'Hey....wait.' His voice both gruff and hard came at her like a thunder bolt, making her run that little bit faster. The heels of her shoes got stuck in the paving stone and she went arse over tit. Swearing under her breath, she recovered items from her spilled bag with lightening speed. A pair of rich tailored shoes came to a stop next to her and the wearer bent to help her retrieve her items. She looked up into his face, knowing that he was the one who had followed her and recognised him as the wierd man from the club. Frowning, she grabbed her bag, stood up and walked past him.
'You forgot this.'
Turning to his voice, she saw he had her mobile phone in his hand. Holding it out to her as if he were some sort of saviour. She snatched the phone roughly and continued with her charging walk home.
'I mean you no harm...'
The man was now matching her pace and was walking next to her. Pulling her collar higher around her neck, she ignored his tries at conversation.
'Please...I saw you in the club. You were the best performer I have seen in ages and I wanted to offer you a job.'
This made her stop and look at him face on. If she hadn't have been so wierded out by him earlier on, she would have noticed that he had a very handsome face. His dark hair framed his tanned complextion and settled above his dark eyes. She felt herself blushing helplessly and took a few moments to look at his thick, kissable lips. What was wrong with her? She was being followed by some wierd stranger and she was fantasising about his lips being on hers. She needed help.
'Thanks for the offer, but I don't need you're help. And i dont appreciate being followed. It is late and I am a young woman on my own. You scared the bejesus out of me.'
He smiled deeply at her and she felt her heart race that little bit faster, but it was nothing to do with fear.
'What is your name?'
'Molly....what is yours?'
Molly shook her head at herself. Was she actually flirting with her stalker?
'Molly, my name is Trent Millers and I run a very high class dancing club. We are currently on the look out for new talent and you are exactly what the club needs. Young, fresh and new to the dancing game. Nobody wants the battered hookers anymore, guys want fresh young blood. And you, baby, are exactly where the punters will be pushing there money at.'
'I am sorry, but i only needed a little bit of dosh for my rent, I have left that gig now. Its not for me.'
His eyes met hers and she pictured looking into them as his body lay on top of hers. Stop it girl! Molly could feel her heart rate getting higher and her eyes followed his hand as he reached into his pocket to pull out a business card.
'Here is my number, if you change your mind, you will never have to worry about the rent again. Some of our top earning girls take home over a grand a night. Think about it hunny and get in touch.'
His warm hands slipped the card into hers and he walked away, leaving her pondering his offer.