Voyeur by Candace Wondrak

 

Chapter One – Zoey

 

 

The Dollhouse wasn’t where I thought I’d end up. If you would’ve sat me down a year ago, when I graduated high school, and asked me what I planned on doing with the rest of my life, I would’ve told you my grand plan.

Go to college, get a degree, have fun until adult life comes swooping down, bringing countless responsibilities with it. Wasn’t that the plan of every kid fresh out of high school these days? My ambitions were never great, partly because of my family. They had connections, you see, and they had money. Money which I refused to touch now on principle.

Oh, I was certain my parents wanted me to come home, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, not after walking in and seeing my then-boyfriend balls-deep in my little sister.

Running away was probably an overreaction; what I should’ve done was find a baseball bat, or even grab a knife from the kitchen, and make sure that bastard could never get his dick up again.

Couldn’t get a cock up when you didn’t have one.

I never liked the money, anyway. The power, the prestige… it never wooed me like it did my parents or even my friends. I’d known from an early age I didn’t belong with them, and what happened with my sister and Bryan was the icing on the inedible cake, the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

So here I was, the first night at my new job, at the fucking Dollhouse. A woman who lived in the same apartment building as me, Crystal—though I had no idea whether that was her real name or not—had told me her place of work was always hiring. I needed the money. I had been able to secure a small studio apartment by myself with the money I had stashed away, but I’d cut up my debit card, tossed out my cell phone and bought one of those cheap ones from the dollar store to replace it. I wanted nothing to do with my old life, but money was necessary to keep a roof over my head.

A few days ago, Crystal had given me a number to call, and so I did. Foolishly, I might add, before I knew what the Dollhouse was. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I already had the job, and Crystal was telling me that with my looks, I’d walk away with hundreds in tips every night.

Hundreds in tips every night could pay my rent within a few days, not to mention food for the month in just a few more. If I kept at it, I could save up, figure out what the hell to do with my life.

Or I could just spend the money on useless shit and never move out of that dingy, shitty apartment. We’ll have to wait and see what I’ll do.

The Dollhouse was a type of establishment that would force my parents to keel over and die if they knew their eldest daughter was working at it. All neon lights and booze, coupled with a stage and a pole. Yeah, it’s that kind of club. A strip club.

Technically, since I wasn’t twenty-one yet, I couldn’t serve the patrons their alcohol, but I could still take their orders and clean up, make nice to them, flirt with them while trying to ignore their erections. You know, the usual stuff.

The Dollhouse wasn’t my kind of place, but no place really was. One thing that made it a bit more bearable was the fact that it was currently run by a woman, Autumn. Somewhere in her forties with obviously dyed black hair, I found her kind of abrasive, but Crystal swore up and down she’d grow on me. I doubted it, but I guess we’ll see.

It was dark when I arrived for my first shift. I had to walk from the apartment building since I knew my parents would just be able to track one of their cars if I took one when I ran. That night, when I’d decided to leave everything behind, I rode on a bus for the first time.

And also my last time, ew.

I rode on a bus, I rented a cheap motel, dyed my hair to a color my parents would absolutely hate with their entire being, and went to a skeevy tattoo parlor and got loaded up. If pink hair and tattoos didn’t tell my parents to metaphorically fuck off, I didn’t know what would.

My mother and my father had known Bryan and Willow were together behind my back. How fucked up was that?

Ugh, no, I wasn’t going to think of them tonight.

Crystal’s shift had already started by the time I got to the Dollhouse. Music pumped through the speakers hanging on the walls, the lights dim as I entered. I headed to the side, through a door that said Employees Only. A small row of lockers where we could put our belongings during our shifts sat along one wall.

I chose a locker at the end, shrugging off my jacket and stuffing it inside, along with my phone. I wore shorts and a low-cut, spaghetti-strap top. The other servers wore less, but I was hoping since it was my first night, they would cut me some slack.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have a nice body. I did. My parents were always on about eating healthy and taking care of the temple God gave you—and then they went and hid the fact that my boyfriend was banging my seventeen-year-old sister. Yeah, they had their priorities twisted, didn’t they?

Autumn pushed out of her office deeper in the backroom, nearly giving me a heart attack. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, her dark eyes narrowing at me. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d show up,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as she walked to my side. She wore a tight suit and heels beneath her pants.

All I could do was smile, because I really didn’t feel like getting into detail about why I needed money right now. My regular paycheck would be two weeks behind, but the tips I got I could keep immediately.

She glanced in my still-open locker. “Tell me you brought something else to wear.”

I looked down at myself. I wore strappy sandals, shorts, and a shirt. The dress code wasn’t something we got into detail with during the interview—basically, Autumn had taken a single look at me and told me I was hired. My face was too pretty to pass up.

Autumn spoke, “Take off your shirt, at least. I hope you’re wearing a nice bra.”

“But—” Not sure why I started to argue.

“This is a strip club, honey, not a bar. Men come here and pay to see pretty girls like you either up on that pole or serving them food and drinks as they daydream about cheating on their wives,” she spoke matter-of-factly. “Take off the shirt, and switch into these.” She bent over, tugging up her pant legs as she slid off her black heels.

Autumn handed me her heels, and I saw we wore the same size shoe. Great. Couldn’t fight with my boss on day one, so I had to do it.

Holding in a sigh, I set the heels down in the locker and bent to unzip my strappy sandals. Not sure I should be barefoot on this floor, but whatever. I went to trade my shoes with her, but she shook her head.

“I have extras in my office,” Autumn spoke, frowning. “A lot of you girls try to get away with stuff, especially in your first week. Don’t worry, you’ll learn what’s expected of you soon enough.” Since she wasn’t turning around and leaving, I figured that meant she was waiting to see me strip.

My fingers went to the bottom hemline of my shirt, grabbing it and pulling it over my head, exposing my black bra and the giant tattoo on my side.

My new boss nodded once, the frown on her face finally disappearing. “Oh, yeah. They’re going to love you. Now finish up here and get out there. Crystal should be almost done on the pole. You can shadow her for the night.” Saying nothing more, she spun on her bare feet and walked away, disappearing into her office, her door only labeled Manager.

This time, I let the sigh out as I reached for the heels and slid them on before closing my locker. It wasn’t like I’d never walked in heels before; it’s more like I didn’t want to spend the next six hours in them. I didn’t have a choice, sadly.

I walked to the door, glancing down at myself to make sure everything was still tucked neatly away—didn’t want any accidental nip slips—and then I walked out into the Dollhouse.

The place wasn’t too large; the main stage sat front and center, the bar on the left. There were a few more private seating areas on each side of the main stage behind the chairs circling it. Men of all ages sat around, drinking, eating, and laughing at each other while they ogled the other workers as they walked by. Most of them, though, stared at the beautiful blonde woman currently wrapping her legs around the main pole.

Crystal was only a few years older than me, but when she wore tons of makeup, she easily looked like she was thirty. Double-Ds for tits, a flat stomach anyone would be jealous of, and calf muscles that could probably pop your head right off your neck if used properly.

I stood off to the side, my intent to wait until Crystal was done and a different girl was up on that pole. Eventually, I’d have to go up there, too. Give these patrons a show. Not yet, though. Right now, I still had to learn the ropes.

Someone grabbed my arm, and I turned to meet the eyes of another woman. Her tits were out, though they weren’t nearly as large as Crystal’s or even mine, and she wore some kind of lacy thing over her lower stomach and lady bits.

Oh, yeah. My parents would have an aneurysm if they knew I was working here. Maybe it was too spiteful, too vindictive, but I kind of wished they would.

“You’re the new girl, right?” the woman asked. Though she held onto my arm, she carried a small tray in her other. Her eyes were a bright green, done up by dark, smoky makeup. Diamond studs rested in her ears, her hair short.

I nodded.

“Great,” she said, handing me the tray. “Go over to Jamie and tell her that table three wants another round. I have to pee so fucking bad.” And then, before I could ask her who the hell Jamie even was, the woman hurried away.

Looking around, I spotted a few other women working the tables. Who the hell was Jaime? I never got an introduction to anyone else here. They kind of just threw me out here and expected me to know everything automatically? Autumn had told me to wait for Crystal’s dance to be done, but the last thing I wanted was to annoy a coworker on the first day. Making enemies here was not smart, not when I was desperate.

Me, desperate for money. Not a thought I ever thought I’d have, but here I was.

My eyes landed on the bartender, a dark-skinned woman who was busy mixing up some drinks. Was she Jamie? I honestly had no idea, but another round for table three meant more booze, and that was the bartender’s job.

I headed over to her, waiting until she turned around to speak. A rather tall woman, she wore what looked to be a bathing suit top and a pair of shorts. The door to the kitchen was a short ways down, where the food was cooked. Nothing too fancy, from what I’d seen. Bar food, basically.

See? I wasn’t the only one wearing shorts. Although, I guess you could say, Jamie was stuck behind the counter all night. She wasn’t the one serving anyone drinks or food. What did it matter if her ass was covered?

“Jamie?” I asked, causing the woman to stop and turn to look at me.

“Fresh meat,” she said, grinning. Her hair was thick and curly, her eyes so dark they were near black. “Yeah, I’m Jamie. What’s yours? I see Autumn didn’t hold a meeting to introduce us all. Typical of her, throwing you straight to the wolves.”

She might’ve thrown me straight to the wolves, but I went willingly. What did that say about me?

“I’m Zoey,” I said, setting the tray on the counter. Not many of the stools near the bar were full; most of the men were either at their own tables or watching Crystal swing her body around and bend it every which way. “I’m not sure who, but someone said she had to pee and that table three wants another round.”

Jamie chuckled. “That’s a table Ruby’s taking care of.” She set down the mixer she was currently using, leaning over the counter to look hard at me. “Have you thought about your stage name, hun? Most girls around here use them, for obvious reasons.”

Crystal and Ruby… yeah, I could see it. “What about Jamie?” I asked. That didn’t sound like a fake name to me.

“It’s my middle name,” she said. “If you want advice, Zoey, pick a name and stick with it. There will be creeps who’ll come up in here, who will zero in on you and decide you’re their new favorite. Everybody wants to take a stripper home.”

Probably good advice, something I should heed. But, then again, what the hell did I care? Maybe if I used my real name it would somehow get back to mommy and daddy. The real question was if I was spiteful enough to put myself in danger when it came to creepers just to stick it to my parents.

The answer to that was always yes. So much yes, it bordered on unhealthy.

“Thanks for the advice,” I said, tossing a glance over my shoulder to see that Crystal was finishing up her dance. Men threw money on the stage for her, and she bent over, letting them stuff some of the bills into the string of her thong.

Jamie spoke, “I’ll get those drinks for you.”

I thought about saying I wasn’t twenty-one yet, so legally I couldn’t serve it, but I kept my mouth shut. If the boss found me and yelled at me, I’d shrug it off, tell her I forgot or something. I didn’t want to single myself out here, because it looked like every other worker here was serving.

Crystal appeared by my side, lightly touching my back as she said, “Let me go put this stuff in my locker, and then I’ll be right out.” She was in the process of pulling out her tips, having already collected everything off the stage. With a wink, she was gone.

My eyes roamed the place. So many men. Most of them were middle-aged, though I did spot a few younger and a few older. My parents had always kept me away from the dark side of things, so this was new to me.

It was new to me, and strangely, though I thought I’d hate flouncing my body around for men to gawk at, I didn’t hate it. Granted, I hadn’t gotten up on that stage yet, hadn’t even served any customers yet, but I knew I wouldn’t.

Bryan didn’t appreciate what he had when he had it; at least I knew these guys would. They’d want to see me strip, want to see me prance around naked, my tits hanging out for everyone to see. They’d want to get my number and take me home, fuck me until their dicks couldn’t take it anymore.

Maybe with a thought like that, I was never really a good girl after all.

Crystal returned, free of stray wads of cash. A bit of sweat lined her forehead, and she gave me a smile. We spent the next hour or so between tables, and I watched her. How she interacted with the patrons, how she responded to the men who had greedy, grasping hands, hands that only wanted to get a hold of her round ass. Some of them she was playful with, the regulars, I assumed, while others she dodged.

I learned she did a lot of cocking her hips, and she had a habit of pushing her tits together to make their already impressive size look even larger. All tricks I’d have to learn, Crystal told me, if I wanted to take home decent tips every night.

When it was our break time, we went outside in the back of the Dollhouse. The night air was cool, the moon hanging high above us. I shivered in my bra, but Crystal seemed fine.

“You’ll learn which ones to stay away from,” she said, “and which ones are harmless. Autumn doesn’t like us going home with them, but if you want to, you can. If you need the money, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Prostitution. She was talking about prostitution, wasn’t she?

“Have you ever…” I trailed off.

She laughed. “You saw the big black doors behind the stage, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well, there’s a party room back there, reserved for our most high-paying customer. All rules are off back there.” Crystal’s blue eyes twinkled in the fluorescent light. “When Roman tells you to do something, you don’t say no.”

Roman? What kind of a name was Roman?

“He’s usually here on Friday nights,” she went on. “I wonder what’s holding him up?”

Hmm. I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of that or not. So, some rich guy came to the Dollhouse so much, he had his own room where he could basically have sex with any of the workers?

I knew what I should think: it was wrong, illegal, all that stuff. And yet, as I stood there, counting down the minutes until our short break was over, I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d do, if this Roman guy approached me to go fuck him in the back.

As much as I hated to admit it, I’d only been with Bryan. It wasn’t that I didn’t like sex—I loved it, when it was done right—I was just, you know, faithful. Fuck that. Fuck relationships. Fuck everything.

We went back inside, and the night wore on.

 

An older gentleman got handsy with me after I brought him his beer. Crystal stood back and watched, letting me take the lead. “You’re new here, ain’t cha?” he asked, grinning as he reached for me.

I could pull back; the man didn’t move that fast. I’d put him in his late fifties, maybe. But I didn’t; I stood there, let him run his hand on the curve of my ass as I said, “I am.”

“I could tell,” he said, eyeing me up like a piece of meat. “I’d remember that pink hair… and that tattoo. Why don’t you be my personal waitress for the night?”

“It’s my first night,” I told him. “I have other tables to take care of.” That hand was still on my ass, still rubbing small circles on my left cheek, like he’d already decided I belonged to him.

Right. A little old for me, sorry.

After finally escaping his hold, I informed Crystal, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

The bathroom was only a single stall for the women’s; the men’s was bigger, from what I could see. Probably because there were never many women here, save for us workers. When the door closed behind me, I flicked the lock. I moved before the sink, leaning both hands on it. The small restroom was clean enough; I did not envy the person whose job it was to clean the men’s. I bet there was piss everywhere, maybe even some crusty jizz.

The front pads of my feet hurt from the heels, but I kept them on as I met my reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at me was hardly recognizable. The hair, the tattoos… I bet if my parents walked by me on the street, they wouldn’t recognize me.

As if my parents would ever stoop to walking on a sidewalk, but you get my drift.

My eyes were a light blue. I always thought they were pretty. Hell, I always thought all of me was pretty. I had the long legs that went on for days, the flat stomach a lot of girls dreamed about, the perfect round tits that were big enough a man could hold them in his hands but not big enough to spill out. My lips were full, my nose small and dainty.

Even with the pink hair and tattoos, I looked like an imposter. A girl trying to be someone she wasn’t, a stranger to herself.

But what good was the old me? What good did the old Zoey do for me? All she had was money and a boyfriend who fucked her baby sister behind her back. She had nothing. The old Zoey, I decided, was dead. This job, this place, it was me starting new. A rebirth, me being someone else.

I could do this. I could live on my own and be alone, hook up with anyone I wanted. Go home with anyone I wanted.

It was sad, but I had a really terrible thought then: so what if I ended up dead by going home with a stranger? So what? The world would still turn, and the people in it would still be fuck-ups. I didn’t have a death wish, but I could see how it might be enticing to some, the finality of it all, the warm blackness of the end.

I couldn’t say how long I stood there, losing myself in my thoughts, but it was a while. Longer than a pee break should be. I needed to pull myself together, act normal, not let the dark thoughts in my head ruin this job for me; I needed the money too much. So, eventually I did the only thing I could: I pushed off the sink and went to the toilet, taking care of business.

Once my hands were washed and I wiped them off, I stepped out, into the dark, sexy world that was the Dollhouse.

Still didn’t know why it was called that. Maybe whoever named it expected its workers to be like dolls for the male patrons? Who the hell knew.

I headed to the bar, searching for Crystal. I saw a blonde head here or there, but not hers, not with her long, thick hair. I’d seen Crystal so much since I moved into my new place, I could pick her out of a crowd anywhere. Nope. A lot of scantily-clad and half-naked women, but no Crystal. The short-haired girl who’d asked me to refill table three was now dancing on the pole, very limber. Ruby, Jamie said her name was.

My eyes spotted the black, windowless door around the stage, and I felt my stomach harden. No way… Was she back there with that Roman guy? I mean, what the hell were the odds of that? And, more importantly, was it wrong to be curious?

No. You know what? I didn’t care if it was wrong. Cheating was wrong, and Bryan went ahead and did it anyways. Being here, working here, I’d let my inner freak flag fly and enjoy the hell out of the ride.

I leaned against the bar counter, catching Jamie’s attention. “Where’s Crystal? I don’t see her out here.”

Jamie didn’t look too pleased to tell me what she said next. “She went in the back with our star customer.” She rolled her eyes. “The things you can get away with if you have money… don’t get me wrong, I ain’t blaming any of the girls that go back there, but that man radiates danger to me, and I swear, sometimes he comes in with blood on his suit.”

Okay, now I was intrigued. Who the hell was this Roman guy? A hitman? Someone in the mob or mafia?

Were those things even real, or were they just in the movies?

I let my gaze travel to the black door in the back of the Dollhouse, past the strobing lights and drooling men. “I’m supposed to be shadowing her,” I said, my curiosity slowly getting the better of me.

I wanted to go back there and see it for myself.

“Well, it’s up to you, hun, if you want to see what happens in the back. I’m sure you’d be fine shadowing one of the other girls, too.”

That much was true, but I didn’t want to shadow anyone else. I wanted to see this Roman guy, see what the big deal was. Anyone with that much money, who may or may not come here with a bit of blood on his clothes, couldn’t be the drop-dead gorgeous type.

Pushing off the counter, I wove through the tables, ignoring any patrons who tried to get me to refill their drinks. I stopped before the black, padded door, my hand on the knob. What if it was locked? What if I couldn’t get in? As the metal knob’s coldness seeped into my hand, I leaned in, trying to hear what was going on in the room.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t, either because the room was soundproofed, or because the rest of the Dollhouse was so freaking loud.

Walking in this room might be a mistake, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know what the hell was going on with this Roman guy, and why Crystal told me to be wary of the customers but she could go and disappear with him. All patrons of the Dollhouse weren’t the same, clearly.

No, you know what? Whatever I was about to step into, I didn’t care.

The hard truth was… I didn’t care about anything anymore.