Ellory

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Gender: Female
Age: 27
Sign: Taurus
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November 26, 2023

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12/01/2023 12:45 PM 

Dame Orleans (Part 1)
Category: Stories

Trash littered the sidewalk, and the tapping of stiletto heels echoed along the concrete as Orleans carefully made her way down the small, dark alleyway behind the club. It was a big night, and excitement thrummed in her veins at the prospect of the owner of one of the biggest burlesque clubs in the South actually seeing her perform. She was dressed to kill.  Sheer stockings encased tantalizingly thick thighs, and were  topped with alluring scraps of lace encircling her silken flesh. Beneath the loosely tied beige trenchcoat she wore a black satin corset costume dripping in rhinestones to highlight her assets to perfection.  Dark chestnut hair gleamed like fire beneath the orange glow from the street lamp glaring down above the employee entry door, and a soft smile curved her lips as though she knew a secret that nobody else knew.

Though her nerves were frayed, she didn't show it. She wanted to put on her best show yet. It was this train of thought distracting her when suddenly, she was jerked out of her reveries when a strong hand gripped her arm, and roughly pulled her  back away from the door. His voice, thick with that cajun accent she'd once found so charming, now sent a shudder of repulsion down her spine. 

"Why didn't you call me back, woman?" The sound of his voice caused a  thread of irritation to wind its way through Orleans when she whipped her head around to look her boyfriend in the eye with a scathing glare.

 She shook her head before replying. "I told you I had rehearsals all week. That man from Candy's Cabaret down in N'awlins is gonna be here tonight. I was going to call you on my way home."

He tightened his fingers around her arm in a vice grip, digging viciously into tender flesh, his face twisting with anger. "You tellin' me you been too busy to call me or see me cause you wanna shake ya ass for some queer f***er?" He scoffed, disgust evident in his eyes. "Like this guy would ever want a fat ass like you dancin' in his club." 

It was like an awakening. Their entire relationship had been one long cycle of abuse. He'd always had a problem with jealousy, and it had only gotten worse since she'd started working at the club. He was constantly accusing her of sleeping around, or having relationships with her coworkers, but Orleans had done her best to keep things from escalating. She often went to work wearing dark sunglasses, and caked on stage makeup to hide the bruises, and after several times of her boyfriend being escorted out of the club for causing a scene, management had banned him from coming to any more performances. But, she couldn't deny the truth anymore. She hadn't really loved him since the first time he hit her. She was just too afraid of being alone.

"You're drunk." Her voice was a low whisper as she stared up at him, tightly leashed anger seething out of her pores. "You need to leave before you get yourself into trouble. I don't have time to deal with your sh*t right now."

"Oh, so you don't have time for me, but ya got time for some guy you ain't never even met, and who prolly don't give a damn about what you do or how good you dance." He shoved her, sending her tumbling back into the wall of the building. He advanced, grabbing her throat with one hand, the other wrapping around the handle of the pocket knife he'd retrieved from his jacket.

Orleans wrenched her arm free of René's grip, eyes flashing with that famous Cajun temper of hers. "Best run on back to your whore and tell'er you're all hers now. Go f*** yourself with a porcupine you limp d*ck bitch," Orleans pulled the .45 tucked discreetly into the thigh holster beneath her coat faster than he could blink. The smile she wore dripped with venom, "Come back around me again," she pointed the gun at his groin, jaw clenched as she ground out, "and you'll be squatting to piss for the rest of your sorry life." His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish, but he didn't have a chance to speak before the door flew open, and Orleans was greeted by the sight of the owner, and her best friend, standing there.

"Oh hell naw!"

René's eyes widened as he stared up at the 6'5" wall of muscle looming in the door way. The owner told her friend to get Orleans inside and waited for them disappear before he stepped closer to René, leaning down until their faces were inches apart.

"Don't you come back around here," he said quietly, "or you gon' find yo'self in a world a' hurt. Now git!"

The last thing he saw was the man's fist before everything went black. 

Sharp cawing rang in  René's ears, drawing him back into consciousness.He cracked his eyes open  glancing over to a dumpster that was half hidden in the shadows, perched on top was a crow, peering down at him with strange white eyes. He groaned, rose to his feet and headed back to his truck fuming and scowling darkly. As he turned the corner he ran smack dab into someone he that he didn't have the good sense to be afraid of. The boy didn't know a predator when it looked him right in the eye.  Dressed in dark clothes, and his black hair swept across his forehead, eerie blue eyes glared down at René menacingly. 

"The f*** you lookin' at," he spat, posturing to make himself seem taller, and intimidating. When the man said nothing, René scoffed, and moved to walk around the man, but the man's hand shot out, slamming into René's chest, and sent him flying into the dumpster at the end of the alleyway like a little ragdoll. Stunned, the breath left his body in a rush, agonized screams trapped inside. A few ribs were definitely broken. René sputtered, trying and failing to pick himself up off the filthy ground. The crow called out from his spot on top of the dumpster, and flew over to land on the violent stranger's shoulder where it rested and watched René with a glint of hunger in his horrifyingly milky eyes. He towered over René, silent malice rolling from him in palpable waves as he reached down and grabbed René by his short brown hair. Ever so slowly he picked René up off of the ground until he was standing in front of him, the fingers cruelly gripped in his hair the only thing that kept him on his feet. With a quick wrench and just the barest  hint of a smirk, the man exposed René's throat. His lips curled back, revealing twin fangs, and true terror struck the cajun's heart. He sunk his teeth into René's neck, the sounds he made as he ripped through muscle and sinew were grisly. Hot dark blood bubbled and poured out of the wound. He clamped down harder, immersing himself within the gargling screams René made until his fangs scraped against bone. With a soft growl of frustration, he gripped René's head, gave a little twist and ripped it from his body like a child pulling the head off of a Barbie doll. In a matter of seconds, he'd cleaned himself off, tossed the head at the crow's feet, and winked at the creature before he, too, went inside the club. 

**************************

The next half hour flew by in blur of frantic activity backstage. Girls were running in every direction, squeezing into skimpy costumes, and swiping on makeup till she felt dizzy in the foggy cloud of hairspray and perfume. Chaos reigned all around her while Orleans took her place behind the heavy burgundy curtains just before  the lights dimmed, and shrouded the stage in pitch black darkness. 

The curtains drew back slowly, music pulsing across the club, seductive strains of the song Lucifer filled the club. It wasn't her usual sort of song; she'd never danced to such a slow one before. But tonight was different. A single light flared to life, illuminating her outrageously curvy silhouette as the announcer's voice vibrated throughout the audience.

"Welcome to the stage, the most anticipated dame of the evening. The luscious Orleans Sabattier!" The stage lit up simultaneously with her name being announced, and she dropped her hip low to the side, pushing out her chest and arching her back to accentuate her  curves.

I want him to meet his maker
I used to be a lover, but now I'm a hater
My passion to succeed is watching him bleed

Lyrics laced heavily with dark passion and sensuality belted over the speakers, and she tossed her head back, sending a glorious cascade of glossy curls flying behind her in a display of ultra femininity. 

Onice upon a time I was a fool
Too cool for school
Gangsta cruel

Her hands drifted seductively over her body, from the slender column of her throat roaming down over the velvety flesh of her décolletage, sliding to wrap around her cinched waist before skimming the wide flare of her hips, ending at the top of thick, silky thighs. Her movements were reminiscent of a woman in the throes of passion, painted with the grace of a classically trained dancer. Her hips slowly rolled and dipped to the beat, then picked up in intensity to match the tempo of the music as it began to pick up. 

Captivated. The audience belonged to her in that moment, their eyes following every single roll and dip of her body.

A single spotlight hit her as she spun, and a low murmur swept across the crowd.

'Holy sh*t. That's her.'

'That's the one that the boss wants.'

She'd never done this before, the whole losing her in the spotlight thing, and the feeling was intoxicating. Her movements became bolder, more provocative as the spotlight followed her. Then she caught sight of him and rest of the club fell away, leaving only the music, this stranger, and her dance. 

Hazel eyes flashed golden as they riveted to the most beautiful set of bright blue eyes she'd ever seen, and she sashayed over to the piano. A distinct shimmy of her hips in time to the beat of the music pounding over the stage, and a slow smile gracing the curve of full, plump lips as she crawled atop the piano. Swinging her hips in a circular motion and flinging her thick dark hair over her shoulders. Lost in the music and his eyes, she slid slowly off the top of the piano and dipped and whirled her way down the stairs that led into the audience. 

A graceful pirouette positioned her with her back against the man with the enigmatic eyes. His scent invaded her senses, her arms drifted upward over her head to allow her fingertips to graze his jaw as she slid herself down the length of his body. He sucked in a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling against her back, and she turned her head, pressing her cheek against his.

She was lost in him, and her world narrowed until there was nothing but the music, his scent, his eyes. She pressed firmly against him, shaking her hips along in perfect rhythm, and whirled to face him. His body felt like cold steel beneath her touch. With her hand on his shoulder, caressing the muscles, she threw her head back, her spine curved impossibly backward, her breasts pushed out and up, her long, glossy dark curls skimmed the floor behind her.

And he was watching her.

Her hands drifted from her thighs, her palms skimming upward over her stomach, gliding up her ribs and coming to a stop at the curve of her breasts. She could feel his gaze searing into her skin as she ran her fingers lightly over her body.

His scent. The music. Him.

His hands on her waist chased away all thoughts of René and his insults. All thoughts and gnawing worry over the club owner from New Orleans fled her mind in an instant. Her body was no longer hers. She was his. And he was hers. She was his dancer.

And she wanted him. 

His eyes never left her as she spun away from him, and made her way back to the stage. 

The music slowed and softened. The lights dimmed and the audience faded into nothingness as the last few chords of the music sounded.

It was over.

Barely able to breathe, she dropped into a low bow. Rising, Orleans winked a sparkling yellow-green eye at him, and took off for the dressing room in the back in a hurry. René's scathing remarks were coming back to her, and it made her terribly uncomfortable. She left him standing there staring after her from his table as she walked off stage. 

'What did I do? That's never happened to me before,' she thought frantically. 

'Why would he look at me like that?' 

"Good job, Orleans," a girl shouted at her as she rushed through the crowd of half-naked dancers in various states of undress.

Orleans gave her a thumbs up and rushed into the dressing room, grabbing her coat.

She was in such a hurry, and still thinking the mysterious man with the enigmatic blue eyes, that she missed the fact that her bag was still sitting in the dressing room. 


_Her scent... He found it utterly intoxicating. She smelled like sunshine and magic, and he felt high on it. Subconsciously, his tongue swept over the elongated canines that had begun to protrude of their own volition. 

'Why does he want her so bad?' 

For a second, he thought the men at the back of the room were discussing him, but that notion was quickly dispelled when one of the others answered in a low voice. 

'You don't want to know. It's best not to ask too many questions. The boss doesn't like it when we ask too many questions.' 

When he didn't hear another response,  he left the club wandering past the crow- the severed head mysteriously vanished now- and melted into the shadows, standing byguard outside to keep a watchful eye on the girl. But not to protect her. To ensure no one else touched her. She is his._


She wondered if he'd lingered after the show as she headed toward the front of the club. Who was she kidding? He probably wasn't even out there anymore. 

Orleans was a confident woman, embracing of the curves that so many other women felt ashamed of, but she knew there were still people out there like René, that loved to tear someone down. 

Hazel eyes gleamed a smoky golden shade as they darted over the dim, smoky room, searching for those striking blue eyes of his. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach when she realized she was probably right, he'd probably left as soon as the song was over. Disappointment flooded through her, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips as she headed to the front exit.
 

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