Post by Roxy Cotton on Dec 17, 2018 16:18:04 GMT -5
Malibu – Saturday Morning, November 4th
A black screen, followed by fingers racing across a keyboard.
A bright window appears, with music playing in the background. Roxy Cotton sits on the edge of her bed in a purple chemise, all lace and satin against her bronzed California skin. The closing words of Nova Sinclair’s LAW promotional video (TM Sarah Lacklan) also hover in the air as Roxy listens intently.
As Nova’s soliloquy draws to a close, a pink bubble grows larger and larger from Roxy’s mouth until finally, using the filed tip of a perfectly manicured fingernail, Roxy bursts it and then deftly pulls the shattered remnants back into her mouth with her dexterous tongue.
“Aw…”
Roxy giggles, reaching for her cell phone and shutting off the music before dropping it back onto the sheets beside her.
“Isn’t little Nova cute?”
She smiles rows of brilliant white veneers before dancing her fingers over her laptop keyboard once again, presumably shutting down the feed from Nova’s upload.
“Seriously, isn’t she, like, just adorable and filling your heart with fuzziness and giving your belly that warm feeling like you just ate a bunch of mashed potatoes or something? She’s just SO SWEET, right guys? Don’t you want to just, oh I don’t know, grab her and hug her and squeeze her tight until she feels better?
No.
No no no no NO.
I’m so sick of dumb bitches and their sob stories, you know? We all have them. Nobody cares. This isn’t Oprah, we aren’t here to help you work through your daddy issues or talk about your widdle FEELINGS. We get paid to beat the shit out of each other for the enjoyment of millions of fans, and honestly, baby, in Cincinnati this weekend I might even do the work for half price. Not because I have a charitable spirit or whatever the fuck, but because I just feel like people should get what they pay for, you know? Like, sure, they get to see their fab Chaos Champion, which, let’s be honest, is already worth the full ticket price… but then they have to suffer through me trying to drag a good fight out of Nova Sinclair? They have to sit on their hands and watch some outclassed wannabe get thrown around from pillar to post by the greatest Chaos Champion in LAW history? This isn’t competition, it’s a slaughter. I honestly don’t know what the front office in LAW was thinking? Did Nova piss someone off backstage? Did she blow the wrong booker? Did her flat chested nudes pop up on some 4chan forum? Who, exactly, did Nova Sinclair piss off so badly that she got booked not only in a match that she doesn’t have a prayer of winning, but against an opponent that’s leaving a trail of broken bodies in her wake? Did you know I got thank you cards from the ERs in Minneapolis and Chicago for sending them so much business? That’s not even counting what happened last night…”
Roxy traces a finger across the faint red line on her forehead.
“Little Nova is in over her head. She’s just another short chubby girl who found her mommy’s make up case and tried to dress up pretty like the girls on the magazine covers. Sorry to tell you, sweetie, but being a bombshell isn’t just a second coat of paint over your shitty cheekbones and. It isn’t waxing your upper lip more often or wearing three push-up bras to draw attention away from your face. Being a TEN and living the centerfold lifestyle is a way of being. It comes from the inside. At the end of the day when I kick off my heels and wash the cosmetics from my face I’m STILL a world class supermodel because it comes from within me. Stop trying to play dress up and get back in your fucking lane, little girl, because you don’t belong breathing the same fucking air as me, do you understand? I should charge you rent to even step in the ring with me, Nova, because everywhere I decide to be BELONGS TO ME. The red carpets, the spotlights, the paparazzi, they follow ME. I’ve done five different radio or television interviews promoting LAW as well as my many other business ventures this week alone, sugar, and guess what? Not a single one of them asked me about you. Not. A. Single. One.
You know what they wanted to talk about? They want to talk about how busy I am, how famous I am, how good I am, how pretty I am, how dangerous I am. They bring up Sad Sammy and how nobody thought I could beat her, but who has twenty pounds of gold around her waist, me or her? They talk about ‘how could I possibly do that to Kate Steele,’ but who has their name at the top of the ranks in LAW, me or her? They ask about how it feels to be so successful so quickly and how I feel about other newcomers like Eavan Maloney… but who is a champion? Me or her?”
Roxy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to calm herself. When she opens her eyes wide again, they seem to be staring far away. Her hands shake slightly while she smiles vacantly and talks in a near whisper.
“Nova… I’m going to tell you a secret. I haven’t said anything about it to anybody, not even Vinnie… but ever since I won this Chaos Championship, ever since I felt the life drain out of Samantha Tolson out in the cold Minneapolis night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about hurting people. When her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp in my hands, it was… it was…”
Roxy’s own eyes roll back as her purple shaded eyelids flutter closed. She bites her lower lip, shuddering and letting out a low moan.
“It was like the best sex I ever had, baby. It was waves and waves of pleasure washing over me, sending shivers down my spine and making my toes curl while I put that basic bitch in the hospital. I never felt anything like that before, Nova, but I knew it was something I was going to need again and again. Something I wasn’t going to be able to go long without. That’s the sort of fix that once it’s in you, once it’s flowing through your veins, you need it more and more… harder and bigger and faster and deeper… until it’s all the way inside of you, and it’s a part of who you are. For me… when I broke open Kate Steele and saw her blood running out onto the mat, it was like the first sip of water for a man who’d been lost in the desert. It was a hunger, a thirst, a palpable NEED to hurt her and break her and humiliate her with my own bare hands.”
Roxy opens her eyes again, and a droplet of blood forms slowly on the puffed lower lip as she pulls her teeth away.
“So this weekend, Nova… you get to be my next hit of the sweet stuff. You get to be a little key bump to keep me straight until I get to Night of Glory and get what I really need by pulling Kate Steele’s hair out by the roots and having her carried out on a stretcher. I want her, Nova, and I want her bad… I want her skin to burst open in front of me like a hot dog that’s been in the microwave for too long… I want her blood to run like raindrops on a window pane… I want her bones to crack like thunder… but for now, I’m settling for you. Aren’t you lucky? Aren’t you honored? For once, for ONCE, you get to matter just a little bit, Miss Sinclair. Because the violence that I am going to unleash on you in Cincinnati is going to be the air in my lungs. I’m going to breathe in the pain I inflict on you and hold it inside so it keeps me afloat until Night of Glory.
Thanks for that, babe…”
Roxy’s cell phone flashes to life next to her on the bed, with a burst of Britney Spears and Lady Gaga mashed up to signify an incoming text. She smiles as she looks down at the phone screen, and as the droplet of blood on her lip starts to trickle down, she slowly slides her tongue out and around, spreading it on her lips like gloss.
“Looks like I’ve got to cut this short, kiddo. I’ll be back later on, but this jet setter and go getter has to make an appearance on a big red boat. Ta ta.”
Roxy presses her mouth to her hand and blows a kiss to the webcam screen, imprinting a bloody smooch on her fingertips. When she sees the crimson kiss, her eyes glaze over for another moment before she shakes it off and closes the laptop screen.
BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR
Inside the dark club, pink and purple lights strobe on and off, illuminating the smallest traces of dust and pet hair on anyone who enters. Luckily, the clientele of one of Los Angeles’ most happening adult scenes – Love On The Rox – are the type to never leave the house without double and triple checking themselves for any indiscretion, and are potentially keeping the lint brush industry afloat on their own.
Scattered throughout the main lounge, several raised platforms are surrounded by men in blazers and ties. Each platform has a silver pole rising high into the arched ceiling, and each pole has a writhing, nubile woman dancing to the music wearing garters and heels and not much else.
Girls in pasties and G-strings carry platters holding shots and cocktails, wandering from one group of men to another, crisscrossing in front of the main stage where, currently, three fully nude women are performing a gymnastic and erotic simulation of a Sapphic threesome, convincing enough to keep the air conditioner working overtime and the chairs at the foot of the raised stage scooted as close as humanly possible to the action.
Elsewhere, seated next to an elevated DJ booth, Roxy Cotton sits at a prismatic round table, counting stacks of bills as her fiancé sits beside her, writing notes with a stylus onto a tablet screen.
“Babe, this is a great night! We’re raking it in!”
Roxy continues counting, peeling off twenties and fifties into neat piles on the table top in front of her. She quietly counts along with each one as her curvaceous form jiggles inside of her form fitting sequined mini dress.
“… four thousand eighty… five thousand. I know, babe. Business has really started popping since I started making the rounds and promoting personally. Not that you weren’t doing enough, Vin, but two of us putting the brand out there doubles the exposure.”
“I love when you start talking about exposure…”
Vinnie was always a goof like that. Roxy had always been the more business minded and ambitious of the two, at least when it came to growing as a company. Vinnie’s in ring career had brought them as far as it could once he hung up his tights and moved into the board room, and they could live forever just on what he provided the two of them… but Roxy had always wanted to build an empire. When Vinnie put up the money to buy her very own club, it was the first step. Now she was leading the charge in front of the LAW cameras and on the LFL field, representing the brand every step of the way.
“You’re so cute sometimes, Vinnie… but seriously, the club is at capacity almost every night now. I had to hire on ten new dancers just to keep them from passing out due to exhaustion! The VIP rooms have a waiting list, for fuck’s sake!”
Vinnie smiles wide, his flaxen hair matching the shade of Roxy’s own nearly perfectly. He adjusts his hot pink bandanna and the lapels of his pink velvet smoking jacket before scribbling a new total into his spreadsheet.
“That’s because you’re awesome at what you do! I would have never thought of the avenues you’ve come up with to put our name out there, dude! The LFL was a huge move! I mean I wish the team were doing better…”
Roxy slams down a hand full of bills, spilling them over. The ice in their drinks rattles against the glasses.
“That’s not my FAULT, Vinnie… I told you that already. Coach Mindy is a cunt and has a personal vendetta against me. I don’t understand why Sarah can’t see it, but I know Kenzi will get through to her eventually. Until then, I guess I’ll just keep sandbagging on the field to make Mindy look even worse. If we don’t win a game, they’ll have to fire the coach, right?”
“Whoa, babe, you can’t just sabotage the games that way… peoples’ livelihoods are at stake, man! Can you imagine if you had a dancer who was intentionally trying to make you look bad?”
Roxy levels her steely gaze across the floor, to where a slender brunette is awkwardly wriggling her thonged backside into the lap of a bored-looking businessman.
“You mean like her? Look at her. This is what I was worried about, Vinnie, hiring a bunch of girls all at once made us slip on our standards. That anorexic bitch should be working at some Culver City jack shack, not MY club. She dances like a deer trying to ice skate!”
Vinnie nearly chokes on the sip of vodka he’s sucked up through his slim straw. He coughs and sputters a bit, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then gathers up the bills Roxy’d scattered with her outburst into a neat pile once more.
“Babe! Here, my bad, sorry about that… don’t get the money mixed up and have to start over.”
But Roxy is no longer paying attention to anything her fiancé is saying. She’s continued to fixate on the Rhythmless grinding that the brunette is perpetrating on her less and less willing customer. Finally, after the girl turns her ankle and falls backward into the man’s lap, eliciting a pained grunt, Roxy stands up and heads over.
“That’s enough… stop, stop, stop, STOP!”
Roxy’s heels click against the reflective tile floor as she storms over, her hands waving over her head in exasperation. When she gets to where the unfortunate lapdance is taking place, she stands with her arms crossed in front of the doe-eyed dancer and taps her foot for attention.
“Ahem.”
“Y-yes? Something wrong Missus Cotton?”
“It’s Miss. And yes, there’s, like, EVERY fucking thing wrong. What are you doing to this guy… uh… what’s your name?”
The petite dancer stands up, leaving the man behind her to look relieved and smooth out the thighs of his slacks with his hands.
“Bambi. You named me yourself, like, just yesterday when you hired me!”
Roxy smirks.
“Right… and now I remember why. Bitch, you grind like you just dropped out of a horse’s ass and are learning to walk for the first time. You have all the rhythm of Helen Keller. What’s the matter with you? Are you epileptic or just high?”
The man seated behind Bambi bursts out into a laugh and tries to cover it up, but Bambi and Rox both turn toward him anyway. Bambi’s face reddens and she starts to fume, especially when she turns back to Roxy and sees the smirk widening on her face.
“Listen up, gramma, I’ve never had any problem milking these cows for the 18 months since I started downtown. If you think you’re all that then hop on there and show me.”
Roxy nearly guffaws right in the girl’s face as she presses her palm against her glitter-adorned cleavage in mock exasperation.
“Gramma? Bitch how old are you?”
“I’m 19.”
“Oh, wow, well, I’m 24… I have WAY more experience than you do, and if I wanted to I’d have this loser popping off into his pants in less than one song. But I don’t have to dance anymore, girl, I’m an entrepreneur. I hired you and I can fire you. This is MY club, and if I say you dance like shit it’s because you fucking do.”
“Whatever! Just back the fuck off and let me make my money!”
Bambi nearly shouts in Roxy’s face, backing the bombshell up half a step. The teen dancer then lowers herself back into the lap of the businessman, leaning back against his chest and wrapping her arms up and behind, around his neck, and she rotates her hips and moves her skinny ass in circles across his khaki crotch.
After about thirty seconds the music stops and Bambi’s hips do as well, but she arches her neck back enough to get her lips close to her mark’s ear.
“You want another, baby? Or maybe you want to go upstairs?”
“Uh…”
“No, he doesn’t want another, Bambi, because that was fucking terrible. Look at his pants. They’re flat and dry. No one wants a bony ass that feels like two elbows rubbing up against their dick. God I should have never brought you in…”
Again Bambi pops up, this time getting nose to nose with Roxy and practically spitting while she snaps venom out of her mouth.
“BITCH! You are fucking with my hustle right now, I don’t care if you own this place or not, you don’t interfere with my income!”
A small crowd has started to gather and Roxy looks down at the customer who seems to be feeling the heat of embarrassment from all the attention.
“Sir… sir I’m so sorry for the lackluster performance from my FORMER employee here. I’ll comp all your drinks for tonight. I don’t like any customers to go home unhappy. Anything you need, you just let me know, okay baby?”
She smiles, and the man smiles back. Emboldened, he leans forward and reaches up, grabbing Roxy’s wrist just as she starts to turn away and back to the dancer to say her piece.
“Well, now that you mentioned it… I did kind of like Bambi’s idea. Her lap dance definitely wasn’t worth the fifty bucks I dropped on it.”
Bambi scowls as Roxy beams and nods in agreement.
“But if it’s your responsibility to send me home happy… I don’t need a free drinks. I’d rather you make up for it by taking her place personally.”
Now it’s Roxy’s turn to flush a deeper shade of red in the cheeks. She tries to laugh it off as a joke but it’s quickly apparent that the man is dead serious. And then Bambi cocks her head and laughs right in Roxy’s face.
“Now’s your chance to prove me wrong, granny. Grind it like you did when Obama was in his first term.”
Roxy looks ready to erupt in anger but she holds onto her religion as the crowd deepens around them. Some of the spectators are clearly cheering for her to put her money where her mouth is, and she eventually sees no other way out without losing face.
“Fuck it.”
Roxy reaches down to the hem of her skirt and peels it up and off over her head, revealing a purple set of skimpy lace panties and matching bra. She stands in front of the customer, whose jaw has gone slack as he looks her up and down, hovering over various parts of her exceptional body. As she tosses the dress roughly into Bambi’s hands she looks up at the DJ booth.
“Raheem… play something from my playlist.”
The DJ nods and presses a few buttons, and the sound system starts to throb with undulating bass rhythms as Roxy slithers into the man’s lap effortlessly. She moves to the music, arching her back and pressing her flesh against him in perfect time to the song as he starts to gasp.
She moans with him. Breathes with him. Her heartbeat matches his as she presses harder and harder against him, melting into his lap and pulsing against him faster and faster until his fingers dig into the meat of her hips and his eyes screw tightly closed. An arduous groan escapes his lips as Roxy comes to a stop, breathing deeply and flushed through her chest. The song has barely played for a full minute when she climbs off of him, giggling.
“Sorry baby. You need a towel?”
“I… I uh, I should go…”
The man practically jumps out of the seat, covering his crotch with his hands as he sprints for the exit. Roxy laughs and soaks up some applause from other patrons and dancers in the room, but when she turns back to face Bambi she’s met with a drink splashed right into her face.
“Bitch. Fuck this place anyway, I’m going back downtown.”
Bambi drops Roxy’s dress and stomps on it before turning away and heading for the lockers, but Roxy starts to shake with rage and lets out a primordial growl before hurling herself after the smaller dancer, grabbing two fists full of her dark hair and slamming her face first into a nearby table. Bambi screeches and tries to swing catfight slaps back toward Roxy, but Roxy slams her forehead right into Bambi’s nose, flattening it and causing a geyser of blood to erupt from her nostrils.
“You want a little chaos, huh cunt?”
Roxy snarls through gritted teeth as she drags Bambi up and lifts her over her head in a suplex position, then drops her head first through the glass table in a falcon arrow. The table explodes, sending glass shrapnel all around. A large piece nicks Roxy on the forehead and draws a small rivulet of blood, which Roxy runs her fingers through after standing back up and surveying the damage. Her eyes have a faraway look to them, a thousand yard stare as she looks down at the destruction. Bambi hasn’t moved an inch as she lay bleeding in the remnants of the table. All eyes are on Roxy as she looks around from one horrified face to another, including Vinnie, who’s run up from the table beside the DJ booth.
“Holy shit dude, what the fuck did you do? We gotta call an ambulance for this chick…”
Roxy’s eyes continue to stare into some unseen distance as she starts to smile in a perverse sneer, then giggle slightly, then start laughing loudly. She nearly doubles herself over with laughter as she looks at the blood on her fingers and the black hairs tangled around them. Her cackles echo through the otherwise completely silent club where the customers and dancers begin to look uneasy, several of them from behind cell phone cameras recording the event.
“Babe, you’ve got to chill. We’re going to be on TMZ.”
“FUCK her!”
Roxy shouts in an ear piercing shriek.
“Fuck this skanky CUNT, she didn’t deserve to even be under the same roof as me. Cut her a fucking check for her medical shit and give everyone here a free round. TWO free rounds. Drinks are on the fucking house tonight, and everyone here got to see a preview of the next LAW main event. How does everybody feel?”
Slowly but surely, the mood starts to shift into an uneasy comfort. The dancers clap for Roxy and it catches on soon enough, with everyone eventually joining in. Vinnie’s hands stay at his sides though, clearly concerned for the repercussions the scene may have caused.
“Roxy, this is bad, seriously… that girl could sue… we could-”
But he’s silenced by Roxy’s bloody finger pressed against his lips, leaving a red imprint across them.
“Shhhh.”
Roxy leans in and kisses him passionately, smearing lipstick and blood across both of their mouths. She reaches between his legs and squeezes him, then whispers into his ear in a breathy sigh.
“Take me home. I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted you so bad.”
Vinnie looks down at her with incredulity, but the way he’s swollen in her grip is a severe enough situation for him to get moving. He grabs her hand and reaches down, gathering up the mini dress from the floor and heading for the front doors with Roxy in tow.
“You heard her, dude! Drinks on the house for the next thirty minutes! Thanks for coming!”
The pair head out into the Hollywood night as the party continues inside the club.
Malibu – Saturday Night, November 4th – After A Day On The Red Queen
The webcam feed springs to life one more time. A noticeably intoxicated but happy Roxy Cotton is walking around her bedroom after firing up the laptop, stumbling to get out of her heels and carrying around an open bottle of red wine.
“Hey again babies! I couldn’t stay away…”
She trips slightly, but get the second shoe off of her foot before sitting heavily down on the end of the bed and taking a long swig on the bottle.
“I just wanted to say a couple more things about my newest friend, Little Supernova Sinclair. I wasn’t going to say anything, because so many people get their little panties in a bunch when I tell the truth… but baby girl, don’t you know? Don’t you realize the truth, honey? I asked around in the locker room and I did a little digging online, even though your stupid white knight of an ex-boyfriend blocked me on Facebook after I sent him that one link… but everyone tells me the same thing about you, sweetie. Oh, poor Nova! Her daddy died! She’s so sad! She’s so broken hearted!”
Roxy mimics crying, complete with raising a fist to her eye and rotating it back and forth with mewling, weeping sound effects. Then he laughs and drinks again before smiling back into the cam.
“Bitch! Your daddy isn’t dead, he fucking ran away! He changed his fucking name and moved to a place where no one would know he was the pathetic Nova Sinclair’s father. Somewhere he could go online and sign on to Craigslist for a handjob without finding ads with his daughter’s pictures in them. Maybe somewhere he can start a new life with a new wife that can blow him without pretending he’s a college-age girl.
Yeah, I heard that rumor too, babe, we all did. Your mom is a bull dyke. No hate or whatever, but for sure if I was a man married to that I’d fake my own death and hurry the hell out the door too. Fuck, I bet the geezer is already waist deep in my DMs as we speak… should I check? Do you want me to say hi when I find him in there or do you not want him to know that you know? Hmmm… should I throw him a pity fuck, Nova? Would you like that? I could suck some brothers and sisters for you right out of him, wouldn’t that be nice?”
Roxy throws her head back and claps her hands, spilling the wine on the bed as she laughs uproariously.
“Fuck no! I’d never put your daddy’s limp baby dick in my mouth, sweetie! Who in the world would want a mouth full of lazily swimming harelipped pollywogs with too many chromosomes? No. No honey, I only spread my legs for my A-lister of a husband and whatever toys we decide to play with together. And I won’t be ruining my life by shitting out some disappointment of a kid like yourself either. Your daddy just figured out a way out of your lezzy mom’s honey trap… good for him!
I’ll go ahead and dedicate my victory over you to all the sad house husbands out there that wish they had the guts to take their balls back from their frigid wives’ purses and make a run for it the way your father did, Nova. I’ll be an inspiration and a reminder that not every girl out there in the world is a knock-kneed buck toothed five on a scale to ten, and maybe give the poor fuckers something to jerk off to in the process. Wouldn’t that be something, Nova? Your daddy out there in hiding, using a fake name, pulling his pud to a Malibu Barbie doll kicking the shit out of his little girl? I bet it will turn him on to see you bleed almost as much as it will turn me on to do it.
I just hope that when he’s done and he dumps a disappointing little load into his palm that he flushes it down the toilet and rinses his hands off down the drain. We don’t want another toilet seat incident like the one that happened nine months before your birth, right Nova?
Hmmm… I like the sound of that. Toilet Seat Sinclair. Funny and clinically accurate all at the same time. ‘Toilet Seat Sinclair – The Girl Who Should Have Been Flushed!’ It’s got a nice ring to it, right baby? Rolls right off the tongue. Too bad you didn’t. Would have saved me the trouble of performing this late late late late LATE term abortion on your mother’s biggest regret tomorrow night in Cincy. Then maybe we could have charged full price for those tickets, since my opponent could have been someone people actually gave enough of a fuck to come and see.
Oh well. Too late now. Tomorrow night baby, even though the best of you went running down into your mommy’s ass crack, what’s left of you gets beaten into a coma by a bombshell. See you there, sweetie.
XOXO”
Roxy blows a kiss to the webcam and shuts it down for the night.
~END~
