Chapter Two - Black Cats - Part One

Everyone says that you can never get another chance at a first impression. I found Black Cats to be the exception to this rule. You had to give it a few moments before you could actually see what hid behind the mass of sexual aroma, grinding and wolf whistles.

You had to stop and see it for what it really was.

Crystal chandeliers, red, black, and gold drapes, the booths that where covered in a deep blood red velvet.

Roman inspired pillars that supported the roof, painted black to go with the rest of the décor, a mirrored walled behind the bar and the mirrored ceiling made the chandeliers more elegant as they copied and mimicked the gleaming lights, making everything seem bigger than it really was.

It was every thing that a burlesque club should be.

Vintage class with a dark streak.

It mirrored most people really, trying to hide something that was dangerous, sadistic and fun.

Unfortunately not many people could look any further than the girls on stage, I couldn’t blame them though; I even found it hard to drag my eyes away from some of the outfits that appeared on the tactfully lighted stage.

Although my reason wasn’t even in the same ballpark, that most people couldn’t take their eyes off them, my reason was more like ‘oh fuck how the hell am I going to keep my tits in that!’ or ‘dear god this G-string is so far up my ass that I can taste it in my throat’ just little things like that.

No big deal…

Yeah right.

I keep a supply of creams, powder and assorted painkillers in my dressing room; to try and stop the chaffing that occurred from even looking at the things. Yet I still slipped myself into the slutty outfits, Hollywood taped my boobs onto strips of material, which where just wide enough to cover my nipples and slid my dainty feet into stilettos and walked onto that stage.

I could see how it was hard to divert your attention to the hidden beauty when there was so much skin to view. 

This was a place where the creatures of the night hid during the day trying to shield their faces from the truth; this is where lost souls came to play. Once the nasty light of day that made the world and all its problems so bright and real, this was the place that darkened them again, placed them back into the closets, and boxes in everyone’s mind from where they emerged.

I had to love it though, after all it was where I worked, it was where I was able to be me, there were no secrets here, well none other than the one that I had carried for most of my life, that secret was something that I kept secret for a reason, it protected not only me, but everyone that walked the streets of the deadbeat city.

Chapter One - Final Part - Tango In The Dark

I was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling, and uneasy feeling.

I cant put my finger on it, but I know something was wrong; it felt like the world had died while I was waiting for the out of service elevator.

It was a feeling that made you feel like you where twelve years old again, almost like you were playing hide and seek in the dark, crouching inside a dark closet, just waiting for someone to open the doors and scare the crap out of you.

It was a feeling that consumed you, made you pray for daylight. Yet it was somewhat enticing, like it wanted you to go looking for that monster that you thought was hiding under your bed, following you no matter where you went, the monster that was lurking in the shadows that you told you self couldn’t be real by the light of day, but came out once the sun went down. It was intense and dominating, it was the tango feeling.

Doing the tango in the dark. That’s the only way I can think to put it.

The feeling of being completely dominated, that sexual lust that cant be fulfilled, the naughty thoughts that race through your mind as you dart and whip your body around a dance floor to that seductively controlling music. Causing every nerve in your body to go numb, as you finally give into the dark seduction that is that tango.

This feeling had finally taken over my entire being. Lingering with me, taunting me, until I finally walked through the glimmering, lighted doors of Black Cats.

At some point, during my confusingly silent walk towards the club, somewhere in that silent darkness that has surrounded me from the very moment that I set foot outside my apartment building and began walking down the footpaths of Maple Street. I had lost some form of self-control and for a small moment was dominated by the darkness.

Chapter One - Part Five - Tango In The Dark

There wasn’t much the mayor could do about it now anyway, of course other than continue to pretend it wasn’t a problem. It had always worked for him, so that’s what he did, ignored it.

It wasn’t really my problem anyway; I had gotten use to the smell.

Not being able to afford continuous refills for the deodorizer, forced me to just sucked it up and learned to live with the stench.

I stood on the corner of Maple Street and 6th Ave, looking in either direction I saw nothing; I started to get a tad curious. Was there something on that I was missing out on?  Regardless I crossed the street, my heels clicking on the asphalt, it was so dead around here that someone six blocks away could hear the echo of my shoes.

Once across the road I turned back towards my building. What a dump. I envied the thought of a normal life, with pretty guest towels and brunch with girlfriends.

Slowly I turned back and continued to walk towards Black Cats.

Two blocks down, just three to go.

Even though I was now about two hours late, I would never run through these streets, you always became the target of a mugger if you ran anywhere around here. I don’t know what it was, guess they must have seen it as a challenge; either that or they thought you where already scared so they might as well make you shit your pants.

Thus I walked. Although I did always have one hand in my pocket, clutching onto my pepper spray.

Can’t be too careful.

Besides at this time of the night my boss would be either so high that he will think I’m early, or he will be so drunk that he has passed out in his office. So there was really no reason to hurry.

I continued my agonizingly boring walk towards Black Cats, with each step bringing me closer and closer to running a can opener across my wrists.

It wasn’t that I hated working or anything; it was just that tonight I just cannot be bothered.

My heels were still the only noise in the streets, clicking with each step, and echoing through every dark alleyway and through the dead and silent streets that surrounded me.

It wasn’t right, it was just impossibly quiet; there wasn’t even the sound of stray cats in the alleys fighting over a sewer rat, there was nothing.

Struggling to think of anything other than the fact that there was no noise anywhere around me, I crossed the street, without even bothering to look and see if there was any traffic.

My heart began to race.

Chapter One - Part Four - Tango In the Dark

It was oddly quiet for a Friday night.

I know that I live in the slums I’m not delusional, I wasn’t one to try and make it sound hipper than what it was, there where no clubs in a four block radius and the closest thing to a supermarket that we had around here was the local jewelry hocker called Spencer, that sometimes wanted to sell you a ‘Folex’ watch, but most of the time just wanted to flash you.

We did however have a large prostitution ring that usually patrolled the sidewalks around here, like meter maids in New York. Which usually attracted a large crowd of addicts looking for a quick way to get their rocks off. They didn’t discriminate either; everyone was welcome to use their services, meth addicts, potheads, dealers, buyers, lesbians, threesomes and groups, all where welcome as long as you had cash.

I looked around and nothing, I couldn’t even see Spencer trying to creep around in the shadows, attempting to perform his famous flaccid cock and run act.

It was just simply the darkness and the odd summer night breeze.

Looks like I’m in for a real busy night tonight.

Rolling my eyes I headed in the direction of Black Cats, which was about five blocks away, which was just far enough from here to still be considered in the ‘good part’ of town.

No matter where you said you where in this city, it was still all the bad part of town, everyone knew it, but still they tried to disguise the odors of garbage and filth with the automatic deodorizers. They had them set to spray every five minutes, rather than every half an hour like people in other, non rat infested, non putrid cities did.  The only difference between us and them was that whiles those people used them to make their apartments and white picked fence houses smell pretty, we needed it to actually refrain ourselves from cutting off our noses.

It wasn’t always that bad, it wasn’t until the city had nowhere else to dump their garbage, so they started using the subway tunnels.

I can see where they thought that would be a good idea. The subways had been abandoned for over fifteen years, so why not stuff the cities crap back underneath it?

It was a good plan in the beginning, everyone was happy that they didn’t decide to create another dump just outside the city and it worked for a few months, until the smell started to come up from the manholes and drains in the streets.

At first people rioted outside the mayors office, screaming into megaphones with lame chants like ‘No more underground dumping’ some went even so far as to suggest the endangerment of the moles that lived in the underground tunnels.

Really? That’s what your worried about? The moles? Clearly you need to sort your priorities out dickhead. 

Eventually after about a month or so with no action from the mayor, they gave up and went on living their sad little lives.

Chapter One - Part Three - Tango In the Dark

The noise from my shoes echoed through the empty hallway, bouncing off every wall, every plastic pot plant and every tacky hall table that cluttered the long run to the stairs.

At this point I couldn’t care less how much noise I made, I had to get to work, I can’t get fired from yet another job, I have rent to pay.

This hall seemed to go on forever, everything in it was the same no matter what corner I turned or what direction I looked, it was almost like being in one of those old movies where they pretend to be driving and you are totally fool until you see the same building go past them for the fifth time.

Finally I could see the stair doors. Usually these types of doors are alarmed or have a little metal plaque screwed to the door saying ‘Fire escape only, please use the elevator’ but living in a rundown building with a crack addict as a land lord, no one could care less how you got out of the building, all that mattered was that you paid your two hundred pounds a fought night in rent, which supported our loving land lords crack addiction.

I pulled the door open and started down the stairs, first taking them one at a time, but by the time I got down to the third floor I was almost jumping the entire flight at once, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do in six inch heals.

After a few close calls to a broken ankle, I decided to just run down the flights one stair at a time, although even this looked like I was one of those rhythm-less dorks playing on one of those dance machines at the arcade, looking down at my feat most of the time trying to make sure I didn’t fall flat on my ass.

Jitterbugging my way to the final stair into the lobby, I raced for the large wooden planks that where trying to pass off as the entrance to my posh abode.

Pushing these so called ‘doors’ was a mission in itself. Usually it took both hands and your feet firmly plated in one place.

I started the task of opening the doors when I herd something crack.

Both my hands retreated from the door and swiftly planted themselves on my lower back.

Oh, well there goes your back darl; you’re now a cripple, hello wheelchair.

Before I could even give my questioned injury a second thought the wooden board cracked again and came crashing to the ground.

It took me a minute to figure out what had just happened, when I finally realised that I had been standing with my mouth open for about three and a half minutes I turned and looked over to examine the door frame where the hinges for the wooden planks had been attached.

Rotted door frame. Well guess the trusting and reliable landlord opted once again, for a pound of crack rather than fixing the doors. Good to know my rent is going to god use. Rolling my eyes I quickly stepped over the fallen ‘door’ and ran out into the street.

Chapter One - Part Two - Tango In The Dark

Oh, I can just see it now, ‘come see bloody marry only fifty pounds’

God that’s a horrid thought, I don’t think I will bring that one up to the girls at work, not even as a joke.

I don’t usually think about random crap this often; it can’t be good for me.

Usually I only think about having a good fuck, which was rare now days and getting to work on time.

Crap! Apparently I cant even do that!

I looked over to the old grandfather clock that stood in the far corner of my messy studio apartment.

Quarter past twelve.

I was supposed to be at work a good hour ago!

That’s what I bloody get for thinking!

I grumbled to myself as I swiped my Prada Bag from the table.

Hope everything is in there.

Fuck it!

Cursing at no one in particular, I slammed the door to my apartment, fluffing my hair with nothing other than the friction of my fingers then spraying it with so much hair spray that it could have held my tits in place.

All this was attempted as I made my way to the elevator.

What is that noise?

I looked down.

Oh floor boards? There use to be carpet here.

Dakota, stop looking at the floor your already late get a move on!

Damn it!

I pulled my eyes away from the shiny floors; my paced walk now was turning into a slow jog.

My heels clicked louder and louder as my feet moved faster,

I would hate to sleeping while some bitch with heals ran through the wooden floored hallway. God that clunking is really loud.

I came to a halt at the elevator; in fact I nearly slammed face first into the door.

Fucking floors! What the hell?

I began to press the button repeatedly. I wasn’t the most patient of people and I hated how long elevators took to get where they needed to go.

Come to think of it I hated elevators altogether, usually I would take the stairwell, there was never any awkward hello’s or silences in the stairwell, and besides the thought of being in a box, going down, just freaked me out.

Well Dakota at lest you know your not a lesbian

After pressing the button about fifty times I noticed a small cardboard sign about a meter or so away from my black Versace shoes. Yes I’m a lady of leisure.

Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say!

I took a step towards the square of cardboard; slowly I bent down grabbing the corner of the sign and turned it over.

OUT OF ORDER

PLEASE USE THE STAIRS

SORRY FOR ANY INCONVIENENCE

Oh fuck me! Really! I mean really?

Turning my head to look in both directions of the hallway, just to make sure no one had herd my little outburst of frustration, I returned to my feet and began to run towards the stairwell door.

Chapter One - Part one - Tango In The Dark

Could not believe it, my first night off in two months and I was called into work to fill some sick bitches shift. I just can’t believe it!

My raging hands fought with my eyeliner pencil as I tried not to poke myself in the eye.

I couldn’t tell at this point if I had smeared my eyeliner, or if I was just so tired that I was starting to develop the traits of a panda, either way it wasn’t an attractive look.

Continuing to grumble to myself, I tried to think of something to do with my hair.

It wasn’t the easiest thing to tame, it was such a deep red that against my pale skin it looked like I had just murdered someone and dipped my hair in their blood. This was the cause of the stares I received when I went anywhere.

My mother must have screwed a punk emo man, who had died his hair blood red so often that it had become encased in his genetics.

That’s the only way that I could have gotten this stupid hair colour. 

I guess I’ll never know what happened though, my mother wasn’t exactly what they would call mother of the year, she was about forty percent off a regular crack addict mother, so I guess you can just imagine the child hood I had. I left when I was sixteen, right about the hundredth time I rolled her onto her side to stop her from drowning in her own sick, I’m sure she wasn’t too fussed, she only had to feed herself then, more money for crack.

In the end I realised that I was more use to her as a drug mule than a daughter.

Finally I decided to try and fix my face rather than worry about my hair after all it always ended up a tangled rats nest anyway.

I just can’t believe this!

Way too many times has this happened to me, some bitch calls in sick and I get called in. Apparently they have no one else that could fill a shift.

I mean I need a night off; after all, my job isn’t easy. Swinging around on a pole all night, not what I would call a nine to five job.

By the end of the night your all sweaty and sticky, your hands are red raw from gripping a pole, which would have very questionable hygiene issues and it takes a good month of intense washing to remove the stench of cigar smoke from my hair.

Oh well it was a paying job, the first one that I had been able to keep in over four years, besides if I ever really wanted to take the night off all I had to do was say that I had gotten my period, that was pretty much the end of any conversation right there. There were never any questions after the word ‘period’ left my lips.

Must have been a male thing, ‘period’ just seemed to shut any guy up.

I cant really blame them either, I’m sure that the thought of blood trickling down their already unhygienic poles wasn’t what they had in mind when they opened ‘Black Cats’.

Personally I wouldn’t be using it as a sales pitch either.

‘Come see our girls as they bleed all over your laps’. Not something that I can see many people enjoying, although I have had some freaks come sit and watch me work before, so I mean maybe they could add that as a ‘special deal’.

Dancing WIth Demons - Just the Begging (Prologue)

Sometimes the simplest of things can turn out to cause catastrophes, a small shake of the earth, below the mighty ocean, can cause a city to be swallowed by raging waters and crashing waves. 

A tiny bite from an insect can cause the unaware victim to suffer endless amounts of pain.

Black clouds closing in on a deprived country town meeting its colder other half, only to clash and spiral downwards until touching the earth, continuing their raging battle of force and blustering anger until finely, running out of breath and retreating back to the skies, leaving nothing but rubble from where a town once stood.

Yet we still take these little things for granted, ignoring the smallest signs and warning that there could be something bigger brewing, signs that could have saved the lives of many brushed of like an annoying fly, just to return in swarms destroying everything in their path.  

So when you see these signs, will you ignore them as so many did? Or will you prepare yourself, for the final battle of your lives?

Dying was not an option for me, I have fort them all my life, hiding any trace that they had been there, destroying the evidence that pure evil had risen from beneath the very cracks of the city streets, all of us called our home.

Never getting any acknowledgement or thanks for the work I did by night, causing me to get fired from the work I did by day.

Yet something kept me here, almost pulled me back every time I tried to leave, whispering in my ear that not all hope was lost, that they can’t continue to rise for ever, but now I see, that whisper was the first sign that I ignored.

It gave me hope when I knew there wasn’t any.

This couldn’t have been anything other than the evil that oozed from the depths of the city, after millions of years learning to imitate man, learning how to walk, talk, sit, stand like a human; like a mirror image they copied every movement, every accent.

Waiting for our EGO to grow and mature, till we thought there was nothing more mighty on the earth than our selves.

Somehow one of these darkened maggots had crawled its way up from the ground, into my head and laid it deceitful eggs, just like it did for so many others; which slowly hatched into dark rays of false hope, that allowed me to think that we stood a fighting chance, that we could put them back into the ground, back into the darkness from which they swarmed.

Just like an army of ants, one came and then another, then another, where one died five would take its place, until they carried off their victims like rag dolls in a child’s hand.

In our sleep they slaughtered us, in our dreams they taunted us and in our ears they whispered the lies that we could survive.

All of this planning, all of this time spent just to turn their hunt into a sick and wicked game, in which they cheated and manipulated the rules. Fare play was not something that they practiced. 

Moving us like pawns in a fixed game of chess, just simply trying to find a way to pass the time until they lead us right into our untimely demise. Like lambs to the slaughter we follow one another, all unaware of what will become of our body’s.

Should it be simply that we let them take us?

Should it be that we surrender to the deaths they have planned for each of us?

Not in my lifetime.