The Enchanted Rooms
By Gemma Paul
She twists and turns, crouches down with knees out wide as she glides her hands along the bare flesh of her inner thighs and moves them towards her red lace covered private area. She watches as their eyes widen with anticipation and little tents in their trousers begin to form, and by little, she really does mean little. Everything about these seven men in front of her are little, except for their wallets. Seven little perverts with seven little peckers, who help her keep a roof over her head by giving her a job. The seven brothers run the ‘Enchanted Rooms’, a series of strip clubs up and down the West Coast that hire pretty young girls to dance for leering, grubby little men, just like them. The brothers tend to favour the club she works in, the one just off Hollywood Boulevard, the place that once was only seen in her dreams, dreams where she was a young starlet performing to a camera alongside handsome leading men, not taking her clothes off them.
The spotlight illuminates her as she moves with grace to the gyrating beat pumping out of the surround sound speakers. She moves alone, no other girls sharing her stage, they like her alone, just for them. The brothers favour the one they’ve nicknamed Snow; her skin is white as snow one of them remarked one day as his fat little hand stroked its way down her bare thigh. It took everything within her not to punch his lights out, if she had, she probably would have been on the streets by now, shrinking into oblivion with hunger. She learnt from a young age when to pick her battles. They touch here and there, nothing intimate, she won’t allow that; they weren’t happy about it, but she stood her ground. And got a hold of a little dirt, a nice bargaining chip to keep them at bay. The good thing about the filthy rich, is that they’re smothered in dirt if you dare to look for it.
Out of the corner of her eye she sees the door to the private room open and a figure slithers in. Charming looks over at her and edges towards the side of the stage throwing a nod in her direction, his subtle way of asking are you ok? The tall, handsome man with the strongest chiselled jawline she has ever seen is one of the club’s bouncers. She calls him Charming after a not-so-charming comment he made towards her one day; she threatened to tear his bollocks off with her bare hands and he fell in love with the porcelain beauty with skin as white as snow and raven black hair who had the mouth of a sailor.
She flashes him a wink as she bends her body in half sending her perk buttocks up into the air, her red thong not doing much to keep her modesty intact, but they’ve seen it all by now, much to her chagrin. Snow turns back around facing the brothers as her hands move behind her back to undo the matching red lace bra that houses her breasts. As it drops, she watches them, the seven little perverts and their seven little tents; bile rising up in her throat as it does every time. She moves again to the beat thumping in the background, the beat which matches the thumping of her heart. Charming moves again, she can’t see where, if she looks for him, they’ll notice, but she hopes he won’t leave, not now her chest is bare to their hungry eyes.
Her eyes move around the small room as she dances, taking note of Dribbler, the one on the far left who is named for the excessive saliva he expels when excited, just like now. She sees a long strand of drool drop from his lip and hang down towards his chin like a stringy piece of cheese. The bile is back, hanging around in the base of her throat. Next to him is the one she calls Grunter, due to the low grunting sound he emits the moment she starts to dance, a sound she has learnt to tune out. Sleazy sits in the next chair over, he’s one of the better brothers, not quite as gross as the others, but a sleazebag all the same. At the other end of the semi-circle, the far right, sits the worst of them all, the most depraved and the one she avoids looking at, at all costs; the one she calls Jerks-a-lot. The moment she’s down to her underwear he has his hand down his pants yanking away, vomit has been known to settle in her mouth on more than one occasion. Next to him is Woodpecker, who has a permanent trouser tent and always walks away with a little wet stain on the front of his pants. Then there’s Porkchop, the fattest of the brothers who resembles a chubby little hog with his rounded red cheeks and this disturbing little oinking laugh that he does when she performs her more risqué moves. The last brother, the one who always sits in the middle, the seat directly in front of her is Kong. He’s the biggest of the brothers with these hair-covered knuckles that she’s seen him use to bash in the skulls of people who owe them money. He’s the one to watch out for, the more dangerous of the seven.
Snow twirls catching sight of Porkchop rising out of his seat and inching his way towards her on his little piggy-like toes with the bounce of an excited child who’s just been given a new toy to play with.
“I want,” he squeals as his fat little body clambers up onto the stage and his chubby fingers reach towards her breasts.
Snow stops dancing and backs away.
“No, that’s not how this goes,” she says in a voice that ends up shakier than she had intended. Jerks-a-lot rises from his seat, the hand in his pants quickening much to her disgust, as he too heads closer towards the stage.
Where are you when I need you Charming? she thinks as she watches all but Kong rise from their seats and surge towards her.
Panic sets in as her back hits the wall behind her and she notices she’s trapped.
“We have an agreement,” she says with her hands held up in front of her, “I have the…”
She’s interrupted from her train of thought and speech as something wet and warm splatters onto her face and chest. Her eyes close momentarily against the onslaught before opening to see a wide eyed Porkchop’s head floating in the air, before crashing down to the ground landing on top of his chubby little dead body with a small thump.
Snow stares, shock on her face as Charming stands where Porkchop was, sword in his hand. She briefly wonders where on earth he got a sword from, but this isn’t the time or place as all hell breaks loose around them. Kong rises out of his seat with a ferocious roar, nothing like she has ever heard before. Charming throws a small knife her way, she watches as it flies through the air towards her outstretched hand. She grabs it and thrusts it into the soft fleshy neck of Sleezy who grabs her arm. Blood spurts out violently, covering her chest with red, as he clutches his neck, sinking heavily down onto his knees as the life pours out of him.
Next, she takes out Dribbler, who lunges towards her, with a jab to the heart. Jerks-a-lot and Woodpecker she takes out simultaneously, as she swipes the knife to her right slicing deep long cuts into their throats causing blood to cascade out of them like a broken fountain. Charming looks on with a smile as Snow turns from as white as snow to as red as blood, quite literally.
What a sight, he thinks as she stands there in nothing but her lacy red thong and covered in blood.
Snow takes down the last of the six who converged on her, Grunter, without missing a beat, or even moving her eyes away from the baby blues of Charming. He steps aside as Kong comes up behind him, his beastly fists raised ready to take out her the Prince who saved her this night. She flicks her wrist and sends the knife soaring through the air. She hears a loud thud as Kong falls to the ground, the knife embedded deep into his throat, but she doesn’t look, she can’t tear her eyes away from him, from her Charming.
They move towards each other like magnets drawn together by a powerful unseen force, their lips locking in a heated kiss as she throws her arms around his neck and plants her nearly naked body up against his black suited form.
He pulls away pushing her out to arm’s length to take in the blood-covered beauty before him.
“Thank you,” she whispers with lust in her eyes.
“You’re welcome, my queen,” he responds as he drops to his knees before her planting his lips on her toned stomach, “my red queen.”
The news soon spread, of the Queen as she became known and her Charming, the new owners of the Enchanted Rooms. Young, failed starlets flocked to her door begging to be given a safe space to work, protected from the men who would otherwise use and abuse them. Snow became one you didn’t want to cross. To many she became known by the moniker The Evil Queen. To others the Queen of Hearts. And if you ever did dare to cross her, or to touch one of her girls she would cover herself in your blood while ripping the heart from your body and adding it to her collection. She started her ruling with 7 jars filled with 7 little hearts of seven little perverts; but now she has 27, each one sitting proudly on display behind the bar in the Enchanted Room that sits round the corner from Hollywood Boulevard.