A/N-  Hey guys! Welcome to my story. 😊I'm currently in the process of rewriting, editing and changing some elements of the original plot, but I will update regularly.

Thanks for reading, enjoy!
Beth xx

My Little Secret.

Prologue-

"Meow. Here Puss Puss."

I cringe. And when I say cringe I mean more recoil, in repulsion. The vomit I can feel, rising from the pit of my stomach is about to spew uncontrollably from within me, like a volcano ready to erupt. Having previously felt a sharp tug on the synthetic tail that swung between my legs, I had spun around rapidly to see who the culprit was.

A balding, middle-aged man stands before me. Well, he's not exactly managing to keep himself upright, no, to put it correctly he's hanging from the stairwell bannister, like the lobotomised gibbon he is.

In the hand that isn't welded to the glossy mahogany wood, is a tall wide glass with, judging from his current state, what I can only guess to be a concoction of strong alcohol.

His seedy eyes burrow into mine like any second now he will be able to strip what little clothes I'm wearing from my body with his telekinesis mind power. From his unkempt beard, particles of vomit cling, that unbeknownst to him are gradually rolling down his chin to land in his drink with a disgusting 'plop 'sound.

What a charmer.

All of a sudden I'm feeling rather uneasy clad in just black leather, a halter-neck top and matching mini Ra-Ra skirt. I shift awkwardly from one foot to the other, distributing my weight in case I have to 'do a runner.' I'm thankful that my legs are shielded by a pair of fluffy black leg warmers, that, after much deliberation, the boss had been considerate enough to let me wear. Even if he had only agreed as I'm a newbie to the job.

Otherwise, I am all but naked.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" I enquire as sweetly as possible, through gritted teeth.

Gripping the tail between my fingers, I swing it absently. Maybe I'll be able to use it as a weapon if needed. If I get that desperate. Failing that I'll just use the six-inch heels I'm wearing...

"Don't you mean what can I do for you Pussy-cat?"

Even in his drunken stupor, he manages to put emphasis on the 'I'...Impressive. Finally, he releases his hold on the bannister and clambers awkwardly over to where I'm standing, stopping far too close for my liking. I smell, and regrettably feel his foul, alcohol and vomit soaked breath on my face and, again I sense the bile rising in my throat. To be honest, I'm just amazed that he can stand unaided at this point. Above most things.

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable I avert my eyes, in hopes that the man will shift his unwanted attention to one of the other girls, or better still, leave the venue entirely.

Unfortunately for me, I'm proven wrong.

Like a starving lion, his paw-like hand reaches out and snakes around my waist, forcing me up against his, surprisingly rigid body. Considering the guy has drunk as much as he has, I'm still finding myself amazed at his undeniable strength.

His jagged and filthy fingernails dig into the soft skin of my midriff, causing me to release a gasp. I shove my hands hard against his chest, desperately trying to pry myself from him, and the vilest ghoulish laugh leaves his mouth in victory. "I love it when you girls put up a fight."

I glance around me in every direction, quickly realising there's no one in view to save me from the brute, but I have to do something to get out of this sticky situation. Without a second thought for the damage it will cause, I lift my knee-high above my chest and plunge my foot down onto his shoe, the pointed heel of my black stilettos piercing cleanly through the thick black leather.

His anguish scream is music to my ears, and it causes him to immediately release his hold on me. With my hands still firmly on his chest, I thrust backwards with all my strength, causing him to fall in a clump on the floor, clutching onto his perforated foot. In haste I lunge away from the figure on the floor, having been in enough situations like this to know never to stay within reach.

"Kitty!"

A sigh of sheer relief floods over me when I hear the deep familiar tone, and shortly after I take comfort in Ivan's dominant presence next to me.

"Get him the hell out of here!" Ivan booms, as one of his employees, haul the guy up from the floor. "You do not lay your hands on my girls! You're banned!"

Another suited employee takes his place at the injured man's side, and together they proceed to carry him off in the direction of the exit.

"Kitty. Are you OK?" Ivan places a strong hand on my bare arm, and my instant reaction makes me shudder under his touch.

My eyes widen, alert, and I'm panting hard, struggling to release a steady breath. I kick off my heels, that feel restricting on my feet and stare in horror at the blood on the heel.

"Come with me upstairs Kitty, I need to talk to you anyway."

I nod in confirmation and allow him to lead me up the red-carpeted staircase, my bare feet enjoying the softness beneath them, after my long shift. I'd be lying if I was to say I wasn't aware of the number of eyes on my back as we ascend higher.

Approaching a wooden door on the small upper level, Ivan produces a small silver key, which he turns in the rusty lock. The door groans in response to being opened and he gestures with his hand for me to enter the room

I slump down, feeling defeated, on a red leather chair that sits behind Ivan's temporary desk. He places himself on the chair on the opposite side.

Is it me or is everything at this place made of leather?

Either that or covered in animal print.

That does make sense though, with a name like 'On Safari'. I wasn't so sure at first, but I must admit I'm warming to the theme of the club. Each of the women working here has their own animal identity. Victoria Vixen and Rogue Raven happen to be my personal favourites. When I had revealed my name to Ivan during the interview process, he had practically handed the job to me on a plate, based on my name alone.

"So," he begins. "That kind of thing really doesn't happen very often."

Well, that's reassuring to hear, isn't it?

"But you did seem pretty shook up. Are you going to be alright?"

I nod cautiously in return.

"Wonderful!" He claps his hands together, rubbing his palms as though nothing ever happened. "So we need to discuss your debut Sweetie. If you remember, we talked about it at the interview."

" I remember," I reply solemnly

How could I forget it, I've been dreading it every day since he told me. The debut was a solo performance that must be done by each of the performance team, after a four-week period of working at the club. Ivan basically uses it as a way of testing his employee's confidence, to check if we suit the role, and it's an excellent way to increase publicity apparently, to get ourselves known throughout the club.

I had heard from Victoria that Raven had covered herself in whipped cream and chocolate sauce. It's sort of like an initiation into the club. I've heard they do similar things when you go to University.

"Have you had a think about what you want to do for yours?"

I glance back at Ivan.

Ivan is an adult, but youthful, in his early thirties I'd guess, with short electric blue hair that sticks up in spikes all over his head. It reminds me of a hedgehog. Currently, his biceps are attempting to burst out of his short-sleeved fitted shirt, and it's difficult to find an area of his skin that isn't inked with tattoos. I find myself gazing at the ornate lettering of one, in particular, located on his left arm. It reads 'Raven.'

"Kitty?" He beckons waving a hand in my face to get my attention.

I shake myself out of my trance

"Can I sing?" The words are out of my mouth before my brain has even had the chance to contemplate how stupid the sentence sounds.

"Sing?" He quips, eyebrows raised, peering up at me under his lashes

I nod in confirmation and watch anxiously as he bites his bottom lip in contemplation.

"Raven turned herself into a human dessert. Victoria put on a burlesque show, and you," he raises a finger at me at this point. "Want to sing?"

I stare down at my hands that are twitching nervously in my lap. It sounds tame, in comparison to what the other girls had done, but there is no way in hell I would have the confidence to do something so risqué. Finally, after what seems like an eternity,  I hear the distinct creak of his chair, and he leans back to rub his stubbly chin with the end of a ball-point pen.

"One condition" he replies, his voice so sharp and to the point it makes me jump.

He's watching me out of the corner of his dark eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips

"I get to pick your outfit."

I gulp, "Sure" I agree, forcing a smile onto my lips

It doesn't sound like I have a choice.

Ivan chews his pen for a moment longer, lost in thought, then rises to his feet behind the desk

"Fantastic, Princess, now that's sorted we need to arrange for you to take part in the team photoshoot."

At this point, I also stand out of courtesy. There's a significant difference between our heights, especially as I'm not wearing any shoes and I suddenly feel rather small.

"I'll call you when I've arranged it until then you're a free woman," he smiles and gives me a wink.

I nod for the final time tonight and flee the room almost immediately. Running, as best as I can on bare feet, down the stairs to the changing rooms. In one speedy motion, I remove my 'uniform' and am grateful once I've changed back into my own clothes.

I exit the building and head out into the chill night. It's a lovely clear evening, and I can see the stars for miles. A small smile creeps onto my face as I leap into my beat-up old hatchback, waiting patiently for me where I left it in the car park. The engine kicks into life and I shove my fingers in front of the heater, desperate for the warmth.

Can I do this?

With a heavy sigh, I carefully drive out towards the exit and down the long empty road

Once again, I don't have a choice.