Love in an Lapdance(Story)

[Mel?]

Edit: LOL. Love in a Lapdance. Like the song. Not "AN"

This is the start of a story I wrote a little over a year ago. It was supposed to be about a huge war that involved people that gained powers with the use of technology and those that were naturals. Sort of like a take on mutants. The main characters get to narrate the story.
Seeing it again kind of makes me want to continue it.
Prologue : Lysander


THE CITY IS AT WAR
PLAYTIME FOR THE YOUNG AND RICH
IGNORE ME IF YOU SEE ME
CAUSE I JUST DON'T GIVE A SHIT
- COBRA STARSHIP



In this world, it is inevitable to escape death, even with the technology that genetically alters specially selected human’s DNA—I included—and grants them powers of unspeakable strength, speed, magic, destruction, and of course, death. The successful cases get the privilege of being in the secret army for their select country. In this case, it would be France. They fight to the death for their country as supposed payment for the powers they have acquired through experimentation.

Originally, France’s top scientists were searching for the cure to the ever increasing cancers. They decided to study and manipulate DNA with chemicals to see if they could produce humans with immunity to cancer. What they found was something much more spectacular than that—they found out how to chemically alter the DNA inside a person’s body. They did several experiments on this, wherein many of the volunteers developed unstable powers: the ability to grow out fingernails and hair, extra limbs, changes in body mass and the change of the melanin level in the skin. Ultimately, this was a great success, for many countries had many amputees. The technology to manipulate the DNA was released to the entire world because of the United Nations’ laws.


Soon, everyone had the materials necessary to do this type of work. The thing is that the humans wanted more than just being able to restore a lost limb, for they had big dreams—to be able to increase intelligence, strength, and even gain flight. I think America is where the most people volunteered to be guinea pigs, though. In America were people that seemed to be fearless: ones willing to die to gain more intelligence, and the just plain hopeless that had no direction in life. Nonetheless, the successful volunteers were placed in facilities and tested for several months before being released back into the country. No one dared to think of turning these studies into something much more than that—war weapons.

That’s where my father came in, a famous scientist in France, Rene Prane’ was assigned to develop this idea further, which he did with great success. His first completed experiment, Andre Forrester had a range of 50 feet with his telekinetic powers. Throughout further experimentation and ultimately greed, he was able to grant Andre a range of 2 miles, but Andre died right after the range test, due to brain aneurisms. With another ten years of experimentation, they were able to correct this problem.


My father went on to have another 503 more successful experiments, but I, number 505 was his most successful. I used to be called Lysander Prane’, but now I’m called by my codename, ‘Clear’. It’s a simple name, and resembles my power more than anyone could imagine. I have the ability to turn not only myself but other objects or people around me invisible for however long I wish. Even more, I can make things disappear like a magician, you would say. I touch it, it disappears into a ‘vault’. When I decide I want it to reappear again, I focus, and it does. That’s the simple explanation for what happens, for I cannot nor do I wish to recall the theoretical explanation for the phenomena.

In 5 years, with over 100 secret assassination kills, I was appointed the leader of France’s secret army, my army. There are 250 live members that are still in the army, as the other 750 successful experiments are in the reserve. As of now, my country has appointed my army to conquer the world, starting with the greatest sphere of influence: America. That is why we are getting close to war with them, and I trust that winning the war will only be a matter of time, for their technology is less superior compared to ours.









Chapter 1: Celeste

TAKE THIS PINK RIBBON OFF MY EYES
I'M EXPOSED
AND IT'S NO BIG SURPRISE
DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW
EXACTLY WHERE I STAND???
-NO DOUBT


I was wiping my make-up off from the show when someone opened the door. It was one of the guys who performed with me on a regular basis. I was about to get angry when he did that because he didn’t knock, but then I reminded myself that this was the dressing room, and that all the performers got ready in here. He was pretty cute, and always liked to mock my moves on stage when I did my performances. His name hadn’t come to me, yet. He had this really dark black hair and these icy blue eyes. It was as if all his emotion were put into those eyes of his. You could tell how he was feeling just by looking into them. It was as if they were a portal to his inner self, his true self, something that didn’t let him hide anything from anybody. I don’t know if it’d be considered a strength or a weakness, either way, it was rather intriguing.

His body structure was of an athletic build, I suppose. Tall, somewhat lanky, but he had his muscles—I’ll give him that. And his abs, they were well-toned. But I guess it comes with territory. Being a dancer, you pretty much have to be physically fit, especially if you’re performing erotically and working for tips. And if you danced like he did, you’d look like that, too.

He was wearing a crimson vest with a diamond pattern on it, with nothing underneath, of course. The ladies who went to the bar always loved to see someone with a physique like that—their husbands probably had pot-bellies or something like that. He gets tipped almost as much as me.

“Want to go now?”

Who said that? I looked up from his abs to his face. It was him. His eyes showed confidence.

“What?” I said, confused. Go where? Did I say I wanted to go somewhere with him?

“Dinner at a restaurant, maybe?” He said, a slight smile coming across his face.

“Why?” I ask, still confused. It seems as though he knew something I didn’t know, but was supposed to. I looked at him again.

“Hmm…let me think. By the way you were staring at me, it seemed as though you wanted something from me, Miss. So I was thinking dinner, or we could just skip and head back to my apartment.” He grinned at his comment. At that moment, he probably thought he was the cleverest man in the world. Well, I had news for him, let me tell you.

I swallowed quickly, hoping he couldn’t see me blushing under all this make-up I was wiping off.

“Listen, buddy! I’m not that type of girl, alright? I don’t just go and have sex with a guy because of his body! Not everything is about sex! I want a guy with personality.” I say to him, and a rather impolite tone might I add, but I really wanted to get my point across.

He just looked at me. I couldn’t help but look into his eyes, his portal. He looked as if he was about to cry. Well, not really, but really, really pitiful. Man, I had a soft spot for guys like this. Maybe I will give him a chance. At least to get that sorry-ass look off of his face, really.

I smiled at him. “Don’t look so sad, I just had to let you know I’m not like that. I’ll go with you to dinner, though. Roy, was it?”

And then bam! He lit up. He seemed so happy that I would go out with him. It was still sort of pitiful I guess, but I kind of liked his enthusiasm. He seemed like a little boy just then, as if someone had given him his favorite comic book or something like that.

“Yeah, Roy’s the name. Roy King.” He held out a hand.
I took it and shook it softly. “Celeste Fey, delighted to meet you.”

For some reason, at that moment, I knew I wanted to be with him. Love at first sight? I don’t know. But something just clicked. Maybe it was his hand. I just felt so much warmth from it and it felt so inviting, it made me want to hug him tight then and there, but I resisted, ‘cause that would be weird, you know? I could also get the feeling that he wanted the same from me, but couldn’t do it either.


I guess Roy and I had something from the beginning now, looking back.

I think it’s time to bring you into the now, though. Roy takes me to dinner, we hit it off. We become closer and closer. I move in with him into his apartment. It’s been four months since then.

And just at this very moment he’s pacing around like Barbie on crack. Okay, not that bad, but he’s really nervous. He didn’t want me home today, but I insisted on staying. Why didn’t he want me here? He said someone important was coming and that I shouldn’t need to know about it. But come on! I’m his girlfriend, I should know about this. We were so close. I needed to know. I suspected maybe he had a kid and that the mother and the kid were visiting today? I don’t know, but it could be a possibility. That’s the thing, I didn’t know. I think it’s better to know that say….my brother was murdered in the war than not knowing what happened to him at all. Ignorance isn’t bliss.

When I got out of school, I went straight to work, without college. That’s when I got my first job, waitressing at this fancy sea-side restaurant called “Sicilian Seaside Restaurant”. Completely unoriginal, right? I thought so, too. But it paid well and the tips were great. In fact, I still work there. It’s my day job.

I have a night job, too. I guess I just need keep myself busy. This night job is the one where I met Roy. I got this job because I wanted a nightlife, so why not just dive in and work at the bar? Little did I know that I was to be no ordinary bargirl. At the bar Lucille’s, a show comes on every night with dancers that lip-synch all different types of songs. And that is what I was hired to do. At first, I was a bit surprised when I found out that this is what I had to do, but I wasn’t afraid to do it. I’m a natural dancer, I can really groove to the music, I dance as if there’s not a care in my world, and it shows. As for the lip synching, that was no problem for me. I even tried to make it look natural, but it’s pretty hard when you’re trying to make it look like you’re singing one of Celine Dion’s songs. Which I was able to do, accurately. The show wasn’t meant for perfection, but to entertain the guests, and late into the night I would dress into these real sexy clothes and start the real erotic stuff and dance with the other performers. The manager told us we have to look sexy while we’re doing this, but we always tried to make each other laugh when we were up there. Whether it be with doing some crude stuff, or stuff that didn’t look too sexy, we would have fun. That’s where I’d mess around with Roy. He’d always try to flirt with me on stage—grinding against me and staying close to me and all that, which I really didn’t mind because the tips were twice as much as my pay and he is a really, really good dancer.

In fact, looking back on it, I think I liked it, though I would always try to lead him to the transvestite, which was great because he would actually dance with the transvestite, and people would get kicks out of that.

Naturally, above the bar was the illegal whorehouse. I have too much dignity to be part of that, but the other performers would take whoever would pay them the most to go have a good time with a 40 year old virgin guy. I’m too good for that. This is why the dressing room was so empty when Roy first asked me out. Everyone else was being whores upstairs.


I look over at him. “Roy! Calm down, babe! It’ll be okay, okay?” I say, with a worried look on my face. Who in the world was coming that would make him so jittery?

Roy gulped and looked back at me with a nervous expression. Poor baby.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you would want to stay today. It’s your day off from both jobs, I’d thought you’d be out shopping with your friends or something like that.

“Aww, how sweet of you.” I say cutely and slightly sarcastically. “So who is it that’s com-“ I stopped in mid-sentence when the doorbell rang.

Roy took one last nervous glance at me before hurrying to get the door and open it.

I took a breath. He opened it wide. There stood two old people. Who were they?

And then it clicked.


They were his parents.

Oh, goody.


CHAPTER 2: Roy

JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE IN CONTROL,
JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT A HOLD,
JUST WHEN YOU GET ON A ROLL,
HERE IT GOES, HERE IT GOES, HERE IT GOES AGAIN
OH, HERE IT GOES AGAIN.
- OK GO



In a way, I was trying to save Celeste, really, I really was, but she’d have to face my parents sooner or later. Not that anything was real bad about them…it’s just that… my father’s a pastor of a church for Fuck’s sakes!

Father doesn’t really approve of his little boy “Running off and becoming a pole dancer caught in the clutches of the devil.” But he failed to recall the fact that increasingly often he’s run from Mom and I to the very thing he preaches against occasionally: Alcohol.
I really hate hypocrites, I really do, and my father’s no exception to this matter.

I remember, he was drunk one night and he smacked my mom across the face. I was only 8 then, peeking through the slightly open kitchen door. He yelled a few obscenities to her afterwards. Mom looked terrible, so full of tears. The next morning, the left side of her face was all black and blue. When I asked about it, she told me she had fallen off the bed in the night, and not to worry about it, that she’ll be fine. But I knew better than that.

Come to think of it, I guess that’s when I really started hating my old man. I started doing little things to piss him off, like drawing in my bible when he preached a sermon or refusing to volunteer for some church event, though, in the end it only resulted in me getting whipped quite a few times by him. Still, throughout my life I still pressed him.

At age 12, he caught me looking at a porn magazine my friend had given me.
At age 14, he caught me quite vigorously making out with the deacon’s daughter, who was just about my age.
At age 15, he caught me spray-painting profanities onto the brick wall on the side of a supermarket.
At age 16, he caught me while I was having a bit of fun with my current girlfriend in my room.
At age 17, he caught me shooting heroin in the basement with a few friends.
At age 18, he caught me in his secret liquor stash, and said nothing.
The next day, he kicked me out of the house.

And here he is now, standing at MY doorstep, with Mom. I decide to get out of the doorway to let them inside to meet Celeste and chat it up.

But I will not let them into my life again.