“Good grief, mom, calm down.” The blonde scrunches up her button nose playfully. “Sometimes you’re such a wet blanket.” She wiggles her index finger in front of my face. “No wonder you’re always wound up so tight.”
“Sariah,” I admonish her, knowing I won’t get through to her this time either. “I just worry, sunshine. I want you to stay safe.”
“I know, Aimee, and I appreciate it. But a bit of a vampiric fling won’t harm anyone. You’ll never know until you try it, just saying,” Sariah says in a dreamy voice.
I drop the argument just as we approach the gilded entrance of The Twinkling Meadow. Standing proud in the middle of a bustling square, the two-story townhouse is a sight to behold. The facade is painted a blush pink, with golden windows that seem to stare at you like a sultry lover, and a big wooden double door with intricate carvings. Above the threshold, the name of the establishment gleams in swirling letters, adorned with miniature depictions of naked, voluptuous women.
We round the corner to the side entrance, a common black-painted wooden door, reserved only for the pleasure hall’s personnel.
Nairn, a bulky, six foot two, fire-wielding, ginger-haired Elemental Fae, stands guard in front of the door, and he greets us with a broad grin.
“Good day, my ladies!” He winks at us while opening the door for us.
“Oh, teddy, you know damn well we’re no ladies!” Sariah says while we pass through the entrance into the bright corridor that leads to the changing rooms at the end. His laugh bounces off the walls, following us as we step into the main changing room.
The square room is painted bright purple, and chaos already reigns inside, as several boisterous girls are undressing, painting their bodies and faces in glitter in front of floor to ceiling vanity mirrors, and chatting. The sickly sweet fragrance of honeysuckle, vanilla and orange blossoms floats through the air, curling around me like a mother’s hand. Or at least, that’s how I imagine a mother’s embrace to feel. I wouldn’t know.
“Here, smell this.” A petite, brunette Water Fae pushes her wrist in my nose after spraying it generously from a golden bottle. The scent is spicy and seductive, with hints of cinnamon, cloves, and amber. “I bet this will drive the boys wild,” she continues, shaking the bottle a bit. “Want to borrow a few drops?”
“Thanks, Brea, but I’m good in the perfume department.” I smile as I continue on my way to my prep area. My alter ego has its own personality, look and scent, and I don’t stray from the script I’ve perfected over time. I have my very own little recipe for success, and it smells like a midsummer storm—warm, sweet, and just a tad dangerous.
All the other girls have dancing numbers woven around their specific powers. Brea creates a slight drizzle on stage, swaying her wet body in front of the patrons, even going so far sometimes as to let her summoned water pour down on her like rain. The Fire Faes dance around open fires that don’t burn them,driving the clients wild. I love Sariah’s number, and not because I might be biased. Being a Light Fae means she can summon a kaleidoscope of colors on stage, the refracted light breaking in a million colorful particles that give her an otherworldly glow.
Since I have no power to draw from, I had to find different ways to mesmerize the audience. I’m damn good at it, if the returning crowds are any sign.
Sariah leaves my side to chat with some of the other girls, as I take my place in front of a huge vanity mirror with my show name on it. It’s time to shed Aimee and become Celestia, one of the best exotic performers that Annerough has ever seen.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheekbones, neck, and decolletage are dusted in a pearlescent shimmer that catches the light, giving me an ethereal glow that seems like it’s coming from inside of me. A white leather top, adorned with thousands of tiny diamonds, pushes up my ample breasts, and a minuscule see-through veil skirt only covers my silver glittery thong.
My almond-shaped amber eyes blink from beneath the exaggerated silvery fake lashes I just added, and my rosy full lips pout playfully, creating a whole new persona staring back at me.
When I am Celestia, I can almost believe I am a stunning magical creature, like the other females rushing around me.
I weave my fingers through my chocolate brown waves that reach my waist, perfecting the curls one by one. I am objectively beautiful; I know that. But I can never fully enjoy my beauty, not when I know I share a face with my tormentor.
“Such a waste of a pretty face, weakling,”Aurora’s sickly sweet voice cuts through my memories. “You’re nothing but aweak, magicless excuse for a Fae. A disgrace to our family. A disgrace to me.”Her cruel laugh reverberates through my skull.“I should have absorbed you in our mother’s womb when I had the chance. Then I wouldn’t have had to see my perfection tainted by your puny ass every day.”
I suck in a sharp breath, trying to close back those corrosive thoughts in the mental box where I try to suppress them every single second of my life.
“You’re nothing. Nobody. A stain on the mud you walk upon. Filth. You deserve everything that is coming to you. Oh, and I’ll make sure it comes, bitch!”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I need to ground myself. I already feel the beginning of a panic attack rising through my bones, my scalp prickling as I tug harder on my strands, my stomach knotting impossibly tight.
One. Breathe in, breathe out.
I’m in the main changing room of The Twinkling Meadow.
Two. Breathe in, breathe out.
I’m surrounded by people I’ve known for five years now. I’m safe.
Three. Breathe in, breathe out.
She can’t get me here. She doesn’t know where I am. I ensured that when I ran away from home, from that life, on our eighteenth birthday.
Four. Breathe in, brea…
“Aimee, you’re on in five. Get ready, girl!” one of the other performers says from the doorway. I finish exhaling slowly and steel myself against the fucked-up memories.
