Diane: Club Vanilla, CyberCafe, and Coming Clean

It was hot in the club. The air conditioner was barely chugging along and I honestly felt like a lobster in a pot.   When I finished buffing the bar top and putting the last of the glasses away, I looked up to see Vanilla just ending her shift.

It is amazing how much of a “normal woman” she looks like when she is not dressed to the nines in her club attire. A pair of sweatpants with the word “Princess” across the back in curly pink lettering and a long sleeved  t-shirt and she looked like any other mom in this town, except of course, for the fact that she is a knockout.   I would hate her if I didn’t like her so much already.

I asked her to go to the CyberCafe and grab some coffee with me. Thomas was up to his tricks again, not letting her see Lily for the evening. I could see the worry in her face and it really bothered me.

The manager waved to us as we entered the Café, I nodded in return. Vanilla took her customary spot in the very back by the window as I ordered a cup of coffee for me and a Chai latte for her.

“You know, when I first met you I never would have imagined that you do what you do for a living,” I told her, as I took the seat across from her.  She nodded in agreement.

“It wasn’t something I chose for myself”

“What happened? Why did you get involved with the club?”

I could see her measuring me up mentally, probably trying to decide if I was worthy of her trust.  I obviously passed muster because she started talking.

“About eight years ago, I was broke, desperate, and seriously considering becoming a hooker when I ran into Thomas outside Club Vanilla one afternoon.  I hadn’t seen him in over five years.  I must have looked a mess because he hustled me inside the Club.  He told me to clean myself up while he got me some food…”

She paused for a moment taking a sip of her Chai Latte.

 “Gosh Diane, he was so gorgeous and sweet beyond words to me that day.  I fell in love with him all over again.  Anyways, Thomas was the Manager of the Club back then.  When I told him I needed a job he hired me on the spot.  He said there was no way in hell he was letting me be a hooker.   And that’s the day that I began my illustrious career as a Stripper.”

“Does anything ever feel…off about that place to you?”

 “You mean besides the fact that Thomas is banging most of the Strippers and Bartenders?”

I simply nodded as I watched a fleeting wave of pain cross over her face.  Vanilla had obviously loved Thomas at one point.  I wondered if it was hard for her to see him flaunting all his girls in her face every day.

“I think a lot of odd things go on at the Club.  I’ve learned the hard way to keep my mouth shut.”

“I don’t mean to overstep my bounds here, but I can’t help but notice some of the new recruits seem kind of young. Do you think Thomas knows?”

“I hope not!  And yes, I’ve noticed that too…like Sophie.  When that lady showed up the other day with her picture I thought I was going to vomit.  I’m scared to ask Thomas what happened to Sophie.”

“Has he ever hurt you? Or threatened to hurt you?”

I watched as she self-consciously tugged her long shirt sleeves farther down her arms.  Without looking me in the eye she nodded quickly.  I wanted to kill Thomas at that moment.

“If I tell you something, will you keep it just between us, no matter what?”

She nodded again.

“I am not who you think I am. I’m here to cover a story about the underground lifestyle of strip clubs and the abuse women suffer at the hands of men like…Thomas.”

I think I knocked her speechless because she just sat there staring at me not saying a single word…

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Another great episode by Diane Winters (aka Ionia Martin).  Check out Ionia here and here
Who is Sophie?  Who is Thomas?

Diane Winters: Pole Dancing, Sophie, and Suspicions

Working in a bar is not my idea of a good time. I have cleaned up more puke and other vile substances than a janitor at a dog kennel since taking this pathetic job. There is not a part of me that has not been ogled by one customer or another and even the boss, Thomas. Somehow just saying his name makes me feel a wave of nausea.

There has been some excitement at the club recently though. I think I might finally be onto something that could really be a big story. In fact, I think I might have landed myself an even bigger story than I had first imagined.

You know what is hilarious? The way that most people automatically assume that if you are an exotic dancer that you can pole dance. I am here to tell you different. I just watched Vanilla training a new girl (her name is Sophie) to use the pole. First off, Vanilla looked up how to do it on-line and used a YouTube video as her training aide. Secondly, even she, although used to being on the stage, looked almost as uncomfortable as the girl, or at least for the first few minutes. Perhaps changing the tempo of the song was what helped.

Thomas watching her every move made my nausea return full force. He didn’t look at her like he was impressed. He looked at her like he owned her. There is something sinister in the way he refers to her and their daughter as “his girls.” It isn’t pride as one would expect, it is darker than that, as if he is speaking about objects rather than people.

Sophie looked at Vanilla with astonishment, as though she had never seen anything like what she had just witnessed. I couldn’t help myself, I found it rather funny, knowing how Vanilla feels about the pole in general.

As I was buffing the bar to a shine and watching them, Vanilla looked over at me with a strange mixture of emotions on her face. I asked her through my expression what was going on. She looked back at Sophie and then said something to the girl that was too low for me to understand. I moved closer to them, as close as I could get with the bar top in the way.

“I’m…umm…I’m 18,” Sophie stammered.

Vanilla’s gaze caught mine again but this time we were on the same wavelength.

The next thing I knew Vanilla was yanking Thomas away from his phone call, her eyes burning with fury. “Thomas! We have a problem!” She said to him.

He didn’t look particularly concerned.

“There is no way in Hell that Sophie is 18!” She said to him under her breath.

At first he looked as though he might strike her, but then the quick flash of anger was replaced by an unnatural, arrogant calm. He walked away from her with a disinterested sigh. “I’ll take care of it.”

He was lucky he didn’t lay a hand on her. I had come to care about her in a short amount of time, and her daughter for that matter. I would have had a jagged beer bottle with his name all over it, the asshole.

I looked at Vanilla again, and she appeared rather stunned. If she only knew the other things I suspected. Things were definitely starting to heat up. It wouldn’t be long before the truth was out, whatever the truth was.

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Who is Sophie?  Who is Thomas?  Thank you Diane Winters (aka Ionia Martin) for writing this Guest Character post.  For more of Ionia check her out here and here.

Vanilla: Pole Dancing, Sophie, and Suspicions

I looked at the pole to the right of the main stage. Then my eyes wandered to the young girl looking at me as if I walked on water. And I wondered again, why the heck Thomas had asked me to teach the newcomer how to pole dance. He knew that I could barely make it through my own pole routine much less try to teach a “newbie” a routine of her own.

With a mental shake I focused on the task at hand. I was, if nothing else, determined to help the young girl. I had extensively prepared for my teaching session with Sophie. Albeit, not by actually using the pole for any of my research – I simply Googled pole dancing. And voilà I was Vanilla the pole dance expert. I walked over to my computer while gesturing for Sophie to take her place by the pole.

Looking over at the bar I saw Diane shaking her head with a huge grin. I gave her the evil eye. She and Kieran were enjoying watching me fumble through this whole pole ordeal way too much! If they weren’t careful I might make Thomas have them both up on this stage pole dancing. The thought of that retribution made me chuckle. Of course, I’d never do that, but the thought of those two swinging from a pole was quite humorous.

I pressed “play” on the YouTube video. Walking up the stairs of the stage I took my position beside Sophie telling her to grab the pole with one hand. I figured if she was going to have to gyrate around like crazy I should at least suffer with her, right?

The poor girl had no rhythm whatsoever…I mean none! I told her to watch how I moved my hips in circles and then did full body rolls. Her body just wouldn’t cooperate. I could see that the tears were threatening to fall so I decided to try a different approach. I yelled for some slow dancing music. I told Sophie to take a seat at one of the tables. She looked very young as she stared at me with her brown doe eyes. Too young…

The lights dimmed. I closed my eyes slowly breathing in through my nose. The music seeped into the pores of my body filling me from the inside out. I let my body move of its own volition curving to the notes. The song caressed me, embracing me, as I allowed it to gracefully move me across the stage.

I knew the moment he started to watch me. In days gone by his gaze used to excite me. His love had enthralled me back then. Now, having those blue eyes of his on me made my skin crawl. I wondered what happened to the boy I had fallen in love with when we were fifteen. I stopped dancing. Thomas’s eyes met mine as my eyelashes fluttered open. The wall of his coldness dropped back in place as he glared at me.

I turned to smile at Sophie. She looked somewhat star-struck as if she’d never seen anyone dance that way. It was then that I realized that she was more than just naïve. A sick feeling kicked me in my gut. I cast a worried look over at Diane. She caught my glance and raised an eyebrow in question.

I motioned Sophie to join me. I took a hard look at her pretty face. Underneath the caked on makeup was an extremely young face that revealed childish innocence. I inhaled deeply, fear stirring in my heart.

“Sweetie, how old are you?”

“I’m…umm…I’m 18.”

Diane’s eyes were riveted to our conversation. My worried gaze caught Diane’s gaze again. I hurried over to Thomas interrupting his phone call.

“Thomas, we have a problem.” He just looked at me. “There is no way in hell that Sophie is 18!” I spit out through clenched teeth.

He stared at me then walked away saying over his shoulder, “I’ll take care of it…”

 

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Who is Sophie?  Who is Diane?  Who is Kieran?

Diane Winters: Club, Bartenders, and Scotch

“You can do this,” I repeated to myself again as I stood in front of the double doors that led into the strip club.

The door handles felt cool to the touch and I paused for a moment with my hands on them as I listened to a commotion of raised voices and breaking glass coming from inside the shabby looking building.

I had a brief, reaffirming discussion with myself and threw my head back, straightened myself to my full height and nearly fell over in the new, uncomfortable stiletto heels I was just learning to walk in. My skirt seemed to have a mind of its own, creeping up as I pulled the door open and did my best to appear normal and not as nervous as I felt. I missed my slacks and flats.

I walked through the door making it about two feet inside the club before I almost got run over by an angry woman swearing and muttering to herself as she stuffed a wad of cash into her bra.  The woman roughly shoved a bottle of liquor at me.  It’s a good think I’ve got quick reflexes or that bottle would have crashed to the floor.

The first person that looked up at me was Vanilla. She looked much different than when I had seen her last. The pretty girl with the smeared raccoon-eye-mascara and the thrift store jacket was now a knock out, dressed in a shimmery, sequined outfit that would have made a diamond dim in comparison. Still underneath he glitter and makeup, there was something sad about her demeanor.

She recognized me immediately, but I gave her a barely imperceptible shake of the head to warn her not to let on. She returned the gesture with a slight nod. Good, I liked people that got subtle.

I stood in the same spot for a little while, not trusting myself to casually saunter into an unknown place with the new heels. The music was loud, and I could feel the vibration in my legs.

“Are you lost?” A man said, approaching me.  He extended his hand.  I was surprised at such a civilized gesture.  I started to extend my hand to shake his, but instead he took the bottle of what appeared to be some expensive liquor out of my other hand.

“I was hoping you might be hiring?” I said.

He looked me up and down in the creepy kind of way some guys do. “Have you ever worked as a bartender before?”

“I’m a quick learner,” I said, way more confidently than I felt.

He walked around me in a complete circle, eying every inch of me. “I’ll just bet you are, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, but thankfully he didn’t see. One of the girls to the left of me giggled and clamped her own hand over her mouth.

“Get this damn bar cleaned up,” he said. “We open in 30 minutes.”

“At least I’m not a stripper,” I said under my breath when his back was turned.

“Yet,” Vanilla said as I took the broom from her.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Don’t think you won’t have to wiggle your ass. That always comes next,” She said, leaning into my ear so that only I could hear.

I looked up at the two women practicing their act on the stage. I’m sure my expression must have been comical, but my intentions were anything but.

Diane Winters shakes her ass for no one.

 

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Written by Diane Winters (aka Ionia Martin)!  Check out her other websites here and here

Diane Winters: CyberCafe

I should have gone to church today.

I swear God, I had every intention of going to church today. There is this cute little chapel right down the street from the hotel I’m staying at. Pretty building, with an actual bell tower at the top and striking red doors. I pulled up in front of the chapel and prayed that God would give me enough strength to enter. My legs went numb. The thought of entering a church again was much easier than the act itself. I put the gear shift back into drive and headed off down the street, reminding myself that my father was long years dead, that he couldn’t hurt me anymore and that it wasn’t the church’s fault in the first place. “A church is just a building,” I thought out loud.

I drove down the street until I saw traffic cones blocking the road ahead of me. Was there no Starbuck’s Coffee anywhere in this section of the city? Glancing around I saw a gas station, a paycheck advance place and a CyberCafe. I shrugged and pulled into a parking space. What the hell, it didn’t look like my usual kind of hang out, but coffee was coffee and something I desperately needed.

So far the news story that I had been sent to this hellhole to cover had turned up nothing. My boss was breathing down my neck via emails and phone calls at a more urgent pace every day. I kept promising him if he gave me enough time, this would be the one. This would be the news story that put us above the other stations. I knew if things went right, the story would be huge and would mean I went from being Diane Winters, the geeky newswoman who could barely find a job in local television in my home town to Diane Winters News anchor for a major network. Some might call my mission a vendetta. I call it a quest for success.

The cafe was nearly empty when I entered. I looked around for a few moments, wondering if this could be a regular cafe as well or if I had to pay for a computer. I was on a strict budget, and we didn’t have any of these things in Wensford, Ohio.

Toward the back of the cafe a guy who looked to be in his late teens was busing a table and in the far right corner was a woman who appeared to be having an intense conversation on her cell phone. Just as I paid for a to go coffee and a sickly-sweet looking roll, the woman burst out into tears. The manager of the cafe shrugged at me, as if to say “I just work here.” I rolled my eyes at him and walked over to the woman.

She was pretty, even with her tear streaked face and mascara. I pulled a napkin from a container behind her and offered it, extending my hand slowly toward her as one would a frightened animal. She glanced up at me, guarded at first. I gestured at the chair across from her and she nodded.

I don’t usually approach people randomly. Even as a reporter I am not as social as I should be. If I don’t think they have anything to add to my story, I don’t bother. Another lesson learned. Sometimes miracles happen in the most unexpected places.

Thirty minutes later I was once again on the phone with my boss. “You can’t be serious,” I said to him.

“If you want to keep your job and have a way home I am,” He replied.

“I don’t have the slightest idea how. I can’t even dance.”

“Wiggle your ass around and collect dollar bills to shove in your panties. You don’t exactly have to go to Harvard.”

“Prick.”

Great. My big chance at a story and I end up becoming a stripper. It was going to be a long week.

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A big “Thank You” to Ionia Martin for her character Diane Winters!  Check out her other websites here and here