Runaway

Posted on Wed Jul 14th, 2021 @ 8:00am by Tamar Todd & Family

Mission: The Factions
Location: Las Vegas/Sapphires
Timeline: Present

Mary Ellen hurried off the bus and down the alley to the employee entrance to Sapphires. She checked her phone. She was running a bit late. The hunger sat low and unsatisfied in her belly. It was still manageable, but it was getting to dangerous levels.

“Emmy, you’re late,” Chad said, slapping Mary Ellen’s ass as she passed. She glared at the backstage manager. “You wanna touch me, you pay like everyone else,” “Emmy” demanded.

“Oo, feisty tonight! The customers will love ya,” Chad laughed.

Mary Ellen shook her head and reached up, pulling the ponytail out of her hair and shaking her red-blonde locks free, running her manicured fingers through it as she entered the green room.

“Hey, Em,” Candy greeted. Mary Ellen doubted that was her real name. She didn’t know most of the girls by their real names. Her own name, Emmy Shaw, was fake, but not a stage name like theirs, just her initials and her mother’s maiden name.

Emmy Shaw opened her locker and tossed her backpack inside, then peeled off her top, revealing a lacy but functional bra beneath. She definitely fell into the “barely legal” category, and in fact, only a fake ID provided by Esperanza Roman made the teenager legal.

Emmy listened to the chatter around her, mostly girls talking about making rent or tuition, or something for their baby. Emmy was lucky in that regard. At fifteen, she hadn’t even finished high school, and Esperanza was subsidizing a loft apartment in a safe neighborhood. It wasn’t large, and it cost Emmy an appropriate amount of money based on what she was making at the club, but if it wasn’t for Ms. Roman, Emmy would be living in a lot less desirable neighborhood, if not on the street.

Stripping naked, the teenager grabbed some perfume spray and spritzed it over herself. Esper was providing the job, too, much to Emmy’s relief, and more importantly, wasn’t telling her sister Tamar where Mary Ellen had run off to. That was most important. Tamar just didn’t understand why Mary Ellen had to leave. Emmy couldn’t take the stares and the whispering after what she had done to Coach Joe. So while everyone else attended Coach’s funeral, Mary Ellen talked her way onto a bus to Las Vegas

It hadn’t taken Ms. Roman long to track her down, though. And she understood. So she made an offer. She would at least make Mary Ellen’s plan safe. And so the apartment building and the job at Sapphires -- both owned by Roman Enterprises -- were made available. Emmy just wished she had a car, but then again, she didn’t even have a real drivers license.

“You’re on in fifteen, Emmy,” Chad said. He always liked any excuse to come into the back and leer at the girls.

“I’ll be ready,” Emmy said, spritzing on some body glitter. Then she pulled out her costume. It was basically modified from her Drake Academy school uniform. The patrons really liked her naughty schoolgirl vibe, so Emmy played to her strengths. After dressing in the too-short skirt with easy panty visibility and the low cut top tied up to reveal her flat belly, Emmy sat down at the hair and makeup counter. She brushed her hair into pigtails and then started on her makeup. Once she was ready, she still had five minutes for some quick stretches before her song started.

Don’t Slow Down by UltraBaroque, a girl band with a J-Pop sound, pumped into the club, and Emmy flounced innocently out onto stage. She took a deep breath, inhaling the energy of the room. Small motes of light seemed to pop around her as the sexual energy in the room hit her body. The body glitter was just an excuse to explain this minor manifestation of her powers. She felt the hunger in her belly ease a bit as she hit the pole and started her dance.

The room grew quiet, entranced, as Mary Ellen’s pheromones captured their attention. Even the cocktail waitresses paused in their rounds as their bodies responded to Emmy. She let her pheromones flow. At this distance, they would be relatively harmless, enough to keep their attention focused on her, make their blood heat up with hormones, and loosen their inhibitions.

When the dance was finished, Emmy gathered up her clothes and the dollar bills from the stage, thanking the stage side patrons profusely with blown kisses and little shakes of her pert breasts as she collected their dollar bills.

Chad was waiting backstage with his tablet. As his hand raised to slap Emmy’s bare ass, she glared at him. “Stick your head in the toilet, Chad,” she said, pushing a little power into her voice. “Oh, and leave that.” She took the tablet from him as Chad headed for the bathroom.

The other girls in the back blinked. “Damn, girl! What do you have over that perv to make him actually listen to you?” Jewel asked.

Emmy just grinned. “I just have a way with people,” she said, as Chad emerged from the bathroom with wet hair dripping over his shirt. The other girls gave him a wide berth.

Emmy counted her tips and entered them into the tablet, then set aside the required house cut and handed it to Chad, who took the tablet back. Then she put on her costume again, fixed her hair and makeup and added a bit more scented body spray, and headed out to the front.

Ramon was waiting for her. He was the club manager. In his forties, just starting to silver at the temples of his black hair, he was tall, with lean, tight muscles. A retired cop on a full pension, he was a Golden Gloves winner. While the club had other bouncers, Ramon often took care of trouble himself. Being a former cop also made Sapphires the preferred gentleman’s club for the Las Vegas police, and one of the few Roman Enterprise businesses that didn’t have an in-house drug dealer.

Girls were another matter. Ramon handled the private bookings for the girls, whether on books or extracurricular, for a cut, of course. Unfortunately, Ramon also must have been tipped off by Esperanza. He took a nasal spray to dull his senses against Mary Ellen’s pheromones, and he was very strong-willed, making it harder to subtly use her voice on him. Oh, she could make it work, but he’d know, and he’d told her in no uncertain terms that if she ever did, he’d put her ass on the street, Esperanza or no Esperanza.

Ramon handed Emmy a tablet. “Booked three private dances,” he said.

“No extracurriculares?” Emmy asked, disappointed. She needed one. “I must be slipping.”

“No,” Ramon said, face darkening. He was the only one at the club that knew her real age. Allowing her to strip was one thing, but pimping out an underage girl was something the ex-cop couldn’t stomach, even if it was voluntary.

“Damn it, Ramon!” Emmy cursed. “It’s been three weeks since my last one. I’m getting hungry,” she said. While Ramon wasn’t a mutant, she knew Esper had briefed him on Emmy’s...condition.

“Sorry, kid,” Ramon said with a shrug.

Emmy scowled. She needed to feed. She glanced around the well-populated club. She knew Esper only wanted her working her extracurriculars at Sapphire, where she was within call of large, muscular, and intimidating men should she get in trouble, but if Ramon wasn’t going to set them up, she would have to do it herself, away from the club. She didn’t need protection.

Emmy caught several interested eyes and marked them. She grabbed a few of her business cards from the display at the door with her name and number on them and gave them to a cocktail waitress to pass around the room.

By the time Emmy was finished with her private lap dances and checked her work phone, she had a handful of messages from interested clients. She picked one and texted back her rates, then set up a time to pick her up outside the club after her shift. She had to dance twice more tonight, but she was off at ten.

At ten, in tight short shorts and a backless blouse held in place by thin spaghetti straps, the teenager walked over to a red Tesla Roadster convertible and leaned down, smiling brightly at the person within.

“Marguerite?” Emmy asked the older beauty behind the wheel.

“Please. Call me Maggie,” the woman said with a slight French accent. She leaned over and opened the door.

Emmy slid into the seat and put her bag on the floor between her legs before fastening the seat belt. “I’m Emmy,” she introduced herself to the cougar.

Maggie took Emmy’s hand and kissed it. “You are beautiful,” she said.

Emmy blushed. She had seen the woman sitting off to the side, one of the few in the club.

“Do you come to the club often?” Emmy asked as they took off down the Las Vegas Strip.

“A couple times a year,” Maggie said. “I live in Montreal.”

“I hear it’s a nice city,” Emmy said, letting her hand rest on Maggie’s on the gear shift.

They didn’t have far to go to one of the city’s luxury hotels. In the elevator to the penthouse, Emmy made her first move, stepping up to Maggie on her tiptoes and kissing the older woman deeply, letting her pheromones heat Maggie’s blood.

They stumbled into the penthouse with the cougar already pulling off Emmy’s clothes. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

***

Mary Ellen stirred as dawn shone through the bedroom windows. She smiled and stretched, luxuriating in the silk sheets, pushing her fingers into her red-blonde hair. She felt alive! Strong! The hunger in her belly was gone -- for now. It always came back.

Emmy rolled over to look at the naked older woman beside her. She bit her lip and carefully put her ear next to Maggie’s mouth and two fingers to her throat, searching for a pulse. She gave a relieved sigh. Still alive. If Emmy had waited much longer to feed, there would have been a good chance that the LVPD would have a mysterious dead body on their hands, and Emmy would have to call Esper to clean up her mess. Luckily, it had only happened once in the six months Mary Ellen had been in Vegas, still getting used to how long she could go without feeding.

Emmy slipped from the bed and went out to the bar, fixing herself a mimosa. The teenager stood naked in the window overlooking the Strip and watched the sun rise. It would be hours before Maggie woke up. She might even sleep all day. And she would probably feel like she’d run a marathon. But fatigued was better than dead.

Emmy took her time enjoying the luxury apartment. She took a shower, washed the glitter from her body, and wrapped herself in a fluffy robe. She ordered a huge breakfast from room service -- her hunger was different than needing actual food. While she could survive on just the sexual energy she absorbed, it made her reserves dwindle faster. The teen still got naturally hungry, though she didn’t seem to put on weight. As she sipped her coffee, she watched a movie on the wall-sized television.

Finally, Emmy returned to the bedroom. She took the wad of cash from the bedside table meant to pay for her services and got dressed in the spare clothes she had in her bag, clean undergarments, some regular cut off jeans, and a tank top and lightweight overshirt to keep off the sun. Looking more truly like a teenager now, Mary Ellen put her red-blonde hair up in a ponytail and slipped on a baseball cap and some sunglasses before leaving the hotel and catching the bus back to her small loft apartment.

FIN

Mary Ellen Todd/Emmy Shaw
Runaway teen

Chad Jones
Backroom manager and lech

Ramon Salvatore
Manager of Sapphires

Marguerite “Maggie” l’Ange
Montreal businesswoman