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Yet to that point, there had been no girl on girl performance. She and Brandi had actually gotten together just before they left the hotel for work, shortly after they got high on another dose of heroin. Neither of them were ready for a repeat with each other so soon, and the play partners they were excited about being with proved elusive.
That was because Brie and Okoye weren't even there. According to DJ, they'd changed their shift, adding a day at the end of the week. They told him before they left the night before that with things going so well at the club, they needed to start looking for a more permanent place to live. There would be places they could research, even though they wouldn't be able to make an official visit until Tuesday, which was one of their regular days off. With Monday being Memorial Day, they needed to make a decision of which day to take off. They chose Sunday, thinking they'd make more money on a holiday.
Christina raced to the dressing area when she found out, checking the printed weekly schedule. A new one was up, showing they indeed weren't on it for the night. But she was relieved they were the next night, because they were supposed to be getting together as a foursome after work. She was really looking forward to it. So was Brandi.
With them not there, and none of the other girls stepping up to pair off together, or one of them wanting to perform with either her or Brandi, the great mood she was in when they got there was altered.
She became withdrawn, the weight of what she was dealing with falling on her shoulders. She'd already fucked two men, the cum of the second one slowly oozing from her pussy. She'd done more cocaine than intended with both, two lines each instead of one. It was a result of her night not going as she'd hoped. That and the awful experience she'd had the night before in her escort gig. The night of lesbian love with a older novice was the hardest thing she'd done it Vegas. That included the raunchy sex with the heavy set twins, Alice and Marvin. At least they were into it.
The sixty-ish silver haired beauty was nervous, which was to be expected. She'd never been with a woman before, and she was suddenly in bed with two. It became clear very quickly that it was actually the husband's fantasy, as he sat in a dark corner and masturbated to the action on the king-sized bed. She and Brandi made the best of it, and by the second hour, they actually got the wife to relax and enjoy herself. While she wasn't comfortable at eating another woman, she tried it with Brandi. And she did unleash several thunderous climaxes from the oral talents of the two paid professionals, as they were thinking of themselves.
That didn't make up for it being a horrible experience, however. The only saving grace was Brandi, who'd lived up to her promise and raped Christina's pussy with a strap-on when they returned to their room. That is if you could be raped when you're willingly encouraging the person assailing your cunt to go harder and faster. In reality it was a rough, intense fuck that lasted for over an hour. And it still wasn't enough. She craved what she'd done the night before with the four professional football players. She'd become spoiled by their cocks and athleticism.
The same went for the men she'd just been with back to back in the VIP room. She was off her game. She'd been really good to that point of picking out well-endowed men to fill her fantasies and well as her pussy. Yet somehow she'd misjudged both of them. That was part of the problem with the cocaine. She always snorted it off an erection. It was how she'd done it with the owners, and she saw no reason to change. It worked for her. But with the men that she'd convinced to join her being average at best, she also messed up in how much coke to use. Her tried and true system was thrown off, and she ended up having to do a second line both times to sell them on doing enough to satisfy the rules of the club.
For the first time since that first time with the Mangini brothers during her and Brandi's audition, she was feeling the impact of taking too much cocaine. The moderation she'd been able to practice the previous few days was blown up. Too much too quickly had her teetering. She wasn't in danger, but the combination of the coke with the heroin had her feeling way off kilter.
As the dancer on stage finished her set and walked off to applause, DJ the DJ changed the lighting. The bright spots were turned off, the stage lit with hues of blue and purple. It created an aura that matched her mood. So did the music she'd asked him to play.
The opening was haunting. It was supposed to be. After all, it was a song about a performer that was pretending to be someone they weren't inside, all to live up to the hype of an image their fans had of them. It was a composition written by Elizabeth Grant, who had begun begun her career saying her first name was Lizzy. But it was as Lana Del Rey that she exploded on the music scene in fame and popularity.
Christina loved her as an artist, even though her catalog was rather dark. She wondered if being rather close in age had something to do with the connection she felt to her. They were nothing alike, and yet they were. The song she'd chosen for her set proved that. The quiet, almost calming voice belied the fiery message of the lyrics. The first words sang as a whisper in the background of the track were lost on those waiting for her to take the stage. But not to Christina. They had specific meaning.
L.A., L.A, L.A., L.A
The soft call out to Los Angeles was imperceptible to those that were unfamiliar with the song, which was probably all of them but her. But it was home. She was a stranger in a strange town. She was a performer, like Lana, about to walk on stage for her adoring audience. In her case it was the men that lusted after her, wanting nothing but to leer at her, and perhaps fuck her; if not for real, certainly in their minds. Was the life of a sexy, sexual music star that much different from a sexual, sexy stripper that turned tricks on the side?
She had to admit, the song had taken on an all too personal meaning to her. It was her life.
She'd asked DJ not to introduce her. She wanted to feel the moment. To feel the lyrics move her. She didn't have a plan, other than to react to the rhythms created by the bass and drumbeat.
In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel living in the garden of evil
Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed
Shining like a fiery beacon
It was the perfect stanza to create a memorable entrance. She walked out slowly, and found herself lip synching along. It called to her. Much like how Sasha had interpreted a song to create the persona of Venus Butterfly, she was capturing the essence of Gods & Monsters, transforming it into her personal theme song. She was the living embodiment of someone alive, but feeling dead inside. She was slipping into the abyss, knowing the lifestyle she envisioned was an illusion that might be unattainable. Was it a mirage in the desert, much like Las Vegas was to many itself?
She wanted to be a hotwife. She still did. And while the sexual adventures she'd experienced were mostly incredible, the one the night before told her she'd gone down the wrong path. If every lifestyle-affirming gangbang with professional athletes was followed by an uninspired performance with a woman that was simply humoring the sexual bent of her misguided husband, what was the point. She was happier with one day a week with Gerard back in LA. She was happier with a husband excited to share the experience with her. She was happier with what they did with Sandra and Mandy the weekend they came over. She was happier when she was just doing THC... or drinking a glass of wine. Now she was one step shy of being a porn star on the ladder she'd been climbing. Hell, she was technically an amateur variety already, having a porn page dedicated to her exploits on a popular website. That ladder she was on was taking her farther and farther away from what she really wanted with each rung she stood upon.
Moving to the end of the stage, she concentrated more on mouthing the lyrics than working the pole. Shedding her outfit while swaying to the beat, she kept going.
You got that medicine I need
Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly
Put your hands on my waist, do it softly
Me and God, we don't get along, so now I sing
Christina made it a point to change the last word of that stanza, from 'sing' to 'fuck'. She even enunciated it clearly in her actual voice to get her point across. She was a different kind of performer than Lana, but a performer nonetheless. It was telling to her that the lyrics spelled out about not getting along with her Diety. Christina's long battle with Catholicism and her mother regarding religious beliefs involving sex had been a catalyst to put her where she was that very moment. She didn't get along with her mother's vision of God... she wanted to fuck instead.
She was beaten weekly with a switch as an adolescent as a misguided deterrent to having sex, and that only made her want it more. As she moved seductively, there were men, dozens of them, watching her from the shadows. All of them were potential sexual partners. Several of them would become one before her shift was over. So much for religious persecution. She was indeed an angel currently living in the garden of evil. And her alleged friend Brandi might just be the devil in disguise.
No one's gonna take my soul away
I'm living like Jim Morrison
Headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel sprees, sprees and I'm singing
"Fuck yeah, give it to me, this is Heaven, what I truly want"
It's innocence lost, innocence lost
The chorus, which would change slightly throughout, was damn near autobiographical. Even the line about heading towards a fucked up holiday was spot on. Memorial Day was literally hours away. She'd be spending it not with her family by their pool, hosting a neighborhood party like the year before, and the year before that. She was going to be doing motel sprees of drugs and sex, wanting someone to give it to her. That was as close to heaven as she'd get. Yet the devil didn't want her soul. The loss of innocence was real.
In the land of Gods and Monsters
I was an angel looking to get fucked hard
Like a groupie incognito, posing as a real singer
Life imitates art
You got that medicine I need
Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart, please
I don't really wanna know what's good for me
God's dead, I said, "Baby, that's alright with me"
She'd taken off all her clothes, and was sitting at the end of the stage with her knees up and legs spread wide. Her feet were on that railing, her heels hooked on it to keep her steady. Her left hand was on the floor. Her right was playing with her pussy. She was masturbating as she lip synched.
She loved the line about looking to get fucked hard. She lived for that feeling, and she knew men right in front of her might be able to give her what she wanted. But also poignant was her posing. The idea of a gropie being thought of as a singer, was her. She was a modest hotwife that was pretending to be a stripper and hooker. Life did indeed imitate art. Her porn page spoke to that phenomenon; amateur porn could be lucrative porn. Women around the world were creating Onlyfan pages and webcam accounts with PayPal portals, or some such option for payment.
Then there were the explicit lyrics about drugs. Shooting up straight to the heart wasn't some poetic imagery. She was living that feeling at that very moment, the heroin pumping through her system faster as her pulse rate quickened. And she'd been on it for days. She knew she was hooked, like Lana must have been to write of that experience. She doubted it was fiction, because it was all sung with such conviction. That included not wanting to deal with whether what she was doing was good for her or not. God indeed was dead in the world she was living in. Lana's world was the very same as Christina's.
No one's gonna take my soul away
I'm living like Jim Morrison
Headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel sprees, sprees and I'm singing
"Fuck yeah, give it to me, this is Heaven, what I truly want"
It's innocence lost, innocence lost
Christina doubled down on rubbing her clit, trying against all odds to time her orgasm. That is if she could even have one under the circumstances. She was prepared to fake it for effect, but she was hopeful that wouldn't be necessary. She wanted it to be as authentic as possible.
When you talk, it's like a movie and you're making me crazy
'Cause life imitates art
If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?
You tell me life isn't that hard
No one's gonna take my soul away
I'm living like Jim Morrison
Headed towards a fucked up holiday
Motel sprees, sprees and I'm singing
"Fuck yeah, give it to me, this is Heaven, what I truly want"
It's innocence lost, innocence lost
She shivered as she 'sang' the part about getting prettier. The horror story Brandi had shared about the perils of heroin, and having to fuck a dealer to pay for it with pussy haunted her. Especially the line she'd said in that motel bathroom that was burned into her brain. "What the hell. You used to be pretty." It was a nightmare she was now living. Yet somehow she was supposed to believe that life wasn't that hard. Sarcasm was sometimes difficult to interpret in lyrical form.
She actually came when she got to the end, the performance within so personal and powerful that she squirted when she sang with the lyrics.
"Fuck yeah, give it to me, this is Heaven, what I truly want.
It's innocence lost, innocence lost."
Collapsing onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, into the bluish purple haze. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly from the rush, the heroin doing it's thing to add an electric element to what she was experiencing. She could actually feel the applause. It was loud and genuine. There was whistling and cheering. Looking up, she saw many of the men standing; a real ovation. She blushed and waved, before blowing a kiss.
"GIVE IT UP FOR THE AMAZING VENUS!"
She bowed, then grabbed her things and went out the back. Brandi was waiting for her, and they shared a hug.
"How the fuck am I supposed to follow that!? You were... wow. I can't even describe how powerful that was."
"Thanks," she said bashfully.
"Seriously. It's not like you practice that. How?"
"I told you. I'm inspired by this life," she lied. But Brandi bought it.
"You must be. I'm going to look like an amateur after that."
"You'll be fine. You're the sexiest woman I've ever met. All you have to do is walk out there naked and they'll forget all about me."
"Yeah, right. I'm up. Wish me luck."
"You don't need it. Break a cunt!"
"Funny."
"HERE'S THE WOMAN YOU'VE ALL BEEN FUCKING IN YOUR HEADS. THE BEAUTIFUL... BRANDI!"
As she stepped out into the bright lights, Christina watched. "God, I can't wait to get away from the clutches of that cunt! I really hope she breaks it!"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunday Evening, May 25th -- DAY 10
Ashley and Kalinda were at the motel. Not thier's. They were with Billy and Gerard. When they were all together at the strip club the night before, Gerard had made a rather innocent comment to Kalinda while he was fucking her. He'd said he hoped the cocaine he'd taken would clear out of his system by the next night so he could think clearly when they executed their plan.
That had them all thinking about the importance of the mission, and the ramifications of what could happen if they were impaired by drugs. That was the catalyst for Kalinda changing plans. She and Ashley went to DJ with a story, telling him they needed the next night off, but they'd make it up by signing up for another night the next week. He was excited because they'd been a big hit, and it looked like they were going to be making a long term commitment to dance there.
With that done, they called Billy when they left the club, telling him they were going to sleep off the night, and they'd meet up with them the next day. It actually made a lot more sense, what with them going with a different plan than the original, and with Gerard being a part of it now. They needed to go over their roles, and how they thought things might play out. They needed to have contingencies and protocols to follow. They'd have one shot at it. If it looked bad before it was put in play, they'd abort and go with the second best option the following night. But if they actually started this one, they'd need to see it through to the end no matter what. The idea of running through various scenarios ahead of time, and doing it sober, was a good one. Gerard didn't take any credit for it, but they all knew better.
"You've already helped," Ashley said, reinforcing the team concept they were trying keep to building upon.
"I still feel like an outsider," he calmly admitted.
"You weren't last night when you were inside me," she winked.
"Ha! That was fun. Would have been better without the coke, though."
"I agree. That's why you saying we needed to be off that shit tonight was so important. Kal and I were in too deep to see that."
"She's right, G. I didn't even pick up on it," Billy agreed.
"Okay, okay. I'll take a little credit. But only because I'm the only one that had apparently not done anything like that before."
"Hard to believe you've never even smoked pot," Kalinda replied. "Well, I guess it's not. I keep forgetting your background."
"I thought I'd forgotten it to. This experience is dragging it all back to the surface," he sighed.
"I'm sure that's not true. You created a charity to help recovering drug addicts on her memory. That's one of the things that proved to us that you weren't the monster. Still, I'm sorry about us having to get involved in doing cocaine. I mean, you didn't have to come to the club, but Ashley and I didn't have a choice."
"I didn't leave you one. I let the bitch bring Christina here. I should have stopped it. The only thing that matters is getting the kids their mother back. After that, we'll see where the dust settles."
Kakinda leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're a good man, Gerard Allen. We're going to prove that in just a few hours. Now, let's go over our roles one more time. The more we walk this through, the better we'll be able to handle whatever unforeseen issues come our way."
"I think the biggest thing is how we extract Christina without Brandi knowing. Especially if they ignore the blindfold request," Ashley said.
"They didn't ignore it with Christina when the roles were reversed the first night they escorted. She had those special contacts in."
Billy nodded, but said, "Yes. However, we don't know when she put them in."
Gerard offered some insight. "She wore them there. All the way to the room."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know Brandi. With her, it's all about control. I don't know if she forced the issue with the clients, or if it was just luck. I've looked at how they've set up the menu. They would have had to request a Domme and submissive, and it spells out who's who. But Brandi would have made her wear them right when they left their room on the way to the appointment."
"Again, how can you be sure of that?"
"She'd want her to not see them men. Who they are. How many. How big they're cocks are. She would want all of those details to be a mystery."
Ashley drew upon her experience as a submissive, which they were all aware of, including Gerard. They'd spent almost an hour going over their personal and sexual background so they could read each other. And also to make sure the right person was in the right role. She and Kalinda had even dropped their stage personas for a moment, needing to touch on their true core.
