This is the final edited and proof read version of the first chapter of “CORRUPTED” which is coming out on the 12th of January 2013. I hope you enjoy reading it and please share your opinions. If you would like to find out more visit my website http://www.corruptedbook.com
CHAPTER ONE
“Don’t worry love; the first times always awkward, like your first shag. And I’ve got plenty of money for you to practice.”
The man who had just introduced himself as Terry sat before me; arms spread across the back of the red velvet and gold chair, his flabby torso spilling between the arm and the seat. His sweat patches were clearly exposed by his chosen stance and a tuft of grey chest hair brimmed from his white shirt; which he unbuttoned as if to signal his day of work was now done and it was time for him to kick back.
Unbeknownst to the people who associated with him in his day-to-day London rat-race existence, consisting of executive boardroom meetings and rub-shoulder, lick-arse lunches, Terry didn’t choose to unwind in the stereotypical pint of lager, evening news kind of way one would expect he would favour at first glance. No, Terry preferred unwinding with a less conventional method, one which would shock and offend his colleagues and family in equal measure if ever brought to light; by watching a girl undressing and paying her for the pleasure. He shot me an impatient look, as if to say get the fuck on with it, and hesitantly I proceeded to dance.
Sandwiched between his ample thighs, my towering heels swayed beneath me worryingly. I was used to wearing heels but in these monstrosities it felt as if I were on a pair of stilts; my ankles were one awkward movement away from snapping. The copious amounts of champagne I had consumed had left me feeling flushed and only slightly bolstered my confidence, which had taken a remarkable nose dive since I had set foot in Centrefolds earlier that evening and seen the vast array of exotic beauty surrounding me. Big breasts the size of melons with egos to match, acrylic nails, fake tan, and hair extensions; I felt plain in comparison to the audacious glamour of the other girls, but whoever this man was, he obviously wasn’t looking for the archetypal playboy bunny type as I was the complete opposite.
He had approached while I had been sat on a bar stool watching dissolutely as every customer who walked through the door was quickly swept away by a throng of beautiful ladies. I was wondering whether I had made a mistake in coming to this alien world where I wasn’t the centre of attention for a change, when he had disturbed me from my thoughts.
“Are you new love?” he asked, propping up the bar the way most alcoholic middle-aged men did, in a bid not to lose any precious drinking time walking from a table to being served.
“Yes, is it that obvious?” I laughed and took another deep gulp from the drink I had just bought myself, and couldn’t afford on my student loan allowance.
“I can tell a newbie when I see one,” he said. “So what’s your name?”
I paused momentarily as I struggled to remember what the house mum had christened me earlier that evening. “Pearl,” I answered, flicking my black hair off my face in an attempt to look seductive.
“So are you into pearl necklaces?” He laughed then; a dirty roar which displayed some silver crowns in the back of his teeth, and I resisted the urge to spring away from him and crawl under a rock to hide. It took a moment for me to register what he was implying. “I can definitely tell you’re new,” he said. “You’ve obviously not been corrupted yet. So will you give me the pleasure of having your first dance?” He spoke as if we were at a debutante ball not a strip club, and I nodded. I could hardly say no you’re not my type could I?
I followed him through a sea of gorgeous, scantily clad women in various states of undress, dancing for a selection of delighted looking business men. Effortlessly they teased and seduced the customers before them, many of whom looked like they were about to combust with desire, mesmerised by the pure unadulterated sex appeal possessed by the women on display. They seemed so in control, every movement they made exhibiting the power they held over their customers. In comparison I felt like a car crash waiting to happen.
I took a deep breath, in the hope that the motion would alleviate my inferiority complex and absolute terror. Did I really want to go through with this? I knew now was the time to back out if I didn’t.
We approached a secluded circular table at the back of the room; before I’d had the chance to make a decision either way we had reached our destination and my first customer had made himself comfortable for the show.
He tucked a twenty pound note into my garter and it suddenly seemed like a rather abysmal amount of money to take all my clothes off, for a man I would usually cross the street to avoid on a dark night. Still though, it was only for three minutes, and seeing the large wads of cash on many of the girl’s garters was enough of an encouragement. Being a struggling student was losing its appeal; it was only to help me get through the final year of uni. Then I could move on to fulfil my real ambitions.
I had watched the other girls that night and began copying what I had seen, playing with the ties of my red lacy camisole, undoing each strap before finally easing it down my body, almost tripping over as the fabric got stuck on my stiletto. I struggled with the clasp of my bra, cursing inwardly as the hook got stuck, and noticed a smug look from a stunning blonde a few metres away as I did so. Meanwhile Terry seemed ignorant to my gracelessness, his eyes intently fixed on my body as I swayed near him, a serious expression on his face like he was studying a road map. He looked like he was afraid to blink, more than likely memorising every image for his own personal wank-bank, to store inside the deepest darkest corners of his brain for future use; probably for when he shagged his wife.
When the music finally came to an end I eagerly scrambled for my discarded garments on the floor, foolishly neglecting to realise that the whole point of the process was to get the customer to buy as many dances as possible. Still at least I had got the first dance out of the way now; it had been painful but quick, like ripping off a plaster.
“You forgot to take off your thong,” Terry said, laughing as I adjusted my dress. “Don’t worry though, we’ve all got to start somewhere love.” He ordered some champagne and I happily accepted a glass, drinking hungrily while he sat beside me, a grin on his face once more. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, cringing at my amateur performance and he leaned in closer. “So, what made you want to become a stripper then, a lovely girl like you? You strike me as being a bit innocent for this kind of malarkey.”
“The same reason most people do any kind of work,” I said. “Money.”
“Well I’m sure you’ll be earning a fortune before you know it.” He raised his glass as if my stumbling into the world of stripping was cause for celebration. “Here’s to you making a packet then. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I repeated, knocking my champagne flute against his.
“So how old are you anyway?”
“I’m twenty.”
“Twenty!” he said in disbelief. “Bloody hell, you’re the same age as my daughter! Usually I only get dances from the older girls. Still, there’s something special about you Pearl.”
“Thanks,” I said, unsure as to whether his admission was supposed to be a compliment. The uncomfortable revelation made my thoughts veer to that of my late father, and I shuddered at the thought of him knowing what I was doing. With his strict Japanese values he would have been deeply shocked if he could see me now, but then he wasn’t here anymore. The last time he saw me I was eighteen, innocent to the ways of the world. There was no one to protect me now, just a deep void that needed to be filled with distractions. Dancing was my main escape so I had figured working as a dancer would be an ideal job for me. Maybe I had been wrong?
“Well I feel honoured to have had your first dance. In a few months’ time when you’re one of the biggest earners here, I can say that I took your dancing virginity!”
Before I’d even had the opportunity to comment, a tall curvaceous brunette, with tumbling waves, and a long expensive-looking black dress, had perched herself on the arm of his chair. “Terry,” she breathed, as if the man next to her were a George Clooney lookalike. She shot me a look of superiority and scepticism. “My favourite customer,” she said, eyeing me with so much disdain that for a moment I felt like a piece of dirt caught under her perspex heel.
“Stacey, didn’t realise you were here. Just had a dance with Pearl, it’s her first night.” Terry looked startled if he had just been caught committing adultery, but judging by the gold signet ring around his fourth finger Stacey wasn’t the only woman he owed his misguided loyalties to.
“Hi Pearl,” she said, a smile plastered across her face more false than her breasts. “Oh well, now you’ve had your fun with a beginner, I think it’s about time a professional took over don’t you?”
“Sorry sweetheart,” Terry said to me, scarcely able to tear his eyes away from Stacey’s ample cleavage which she had cleverly directed in his eye line. “I’m going to have to go back to my stripper wife now. Here though, take the champagne, think of it as a christening present.”
“Ok then, thanks,” I said, feeling pretty put-out. I took the bottle and backed away, seating myself so I had a good view of the exotic world of red velvet, poles, and mirrors surrounding me. Five hundred pounds. If I don’t make at least five hundred pounds tonight then I won’t ever be coming back.
I knocked back my drink in an attempt to calm my nerves. With each glass I drank the night went quicker and my inhibitions decreased, until finally it got to three am and I had managed to accumulate quite a respectable wad of cash on my garter; eight hundred pounds in total, which meant that I had managed to take my clothes on and off about forty times all in all. No wonder strippers had such great bodies, the dressing and undressing alone probably burnt about a thousand calories, not to mention all the dancing and charming. I was exhausted and stumbled into a cab after handing in my money to collect on my next shift. As the car shuddered off into the crisp London night air I wondered how much of a cut they would take, and looked forward to holding the cold hard cash in my hand.
emmyyoshida 