Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

Book 2 Chapter 4

The bright, white light from the flashlight casts an unforgiving glare on the bathroom mirror, highlighting every imperfection and flaw on my face. I smack my concealer against my hand, trying to get the last remaining dregs from the bottle that is well past its use-by date, desperately trying to remove the tired lines of my face into the sultry allure expected at the club; I don't think I have managed to pull it off though because I look more salty than sultry

My resting bitch face is strong tonight, and my mood after today 1s worsening it

Thankfully, I have a masquerade mask that will cover the top half of my face, which is a blessing and a curse; the damn thing itches my face but also covers up my not-so-subtle facialConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

expressions

Tonight's mask is particularly elaborate a delicate, half-face creation that veils my identity while accentuating my eyes. I apply dark red lipstick, and I can taste the waxy residue on my lips. The bitter flavor reminds me of the fake facade I am trying to create

I turn my attention to my hair, gathering it into a high ponytail that cascades down my back in loose waves. As I secure it with an elastic band, I pull a few strands loose to frame my face, hoping to soften the harsh lines. A quick spritz of hairspray ensures it will stay in place throughout the night. Finally satisfied, I flick the flashlight off, not wanting to waste the batteries; I turn to leave before remembering my mask. I almost leave without it, catching sight of its silver gleam at the last second on the cluttered counter

With one last look in the mirror, I grab the skimpiest pieces of lingerie I own, layering them under an unassuming coat. I slip the lacy black bra over my head, the delicate fabric barely covering my modesty and leaving little to the imagination. The matching thong follows, its thin straps digging into my skin as I adjust it into place. Each piece feels like a reminder of the life I'm trapped in, a life I despise

As I tighten the straps on my garter, a wave of shame washes over me. If anyone from my day-to-day life ever found out about my secret, I know they'd look at me with disgust. But tonight, like every other night, I just hope I can make a decent number of tips, but being a weekday, probably not

I can't risk working weekends there, I know I will run into someone I know. That strip is flooded on weekends, and I would die from

humiliation at the thought of shaking my ass at someone I went to school with. Pulling a dress on, I quickly slip a long coat on and grab my handbag. As I head out the door, I remind myself to breathe deeply, a simple yet effective technique I've learned to manage my anxiety

Most importantly, I've mastered the art of compartmentalization, mentally separating my two worlds to survive the double life I lead

Leaving my rundown mansion, the reality of my circumstances hits me again-my car, still stranded, forces me to the bus stop. The bus ride to work is a mix of dread and acceptance. The dim interior lights flicker intermittently, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the other passengers. I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact, and plug in my earphones, letting the music drown out the murmurs and the hum of the engine

As the bus jolts forward, I glance nervously at my phone, its screen displaying a mere 5% battery life. The bus 1s supposed to arrive ten minutes before my shift, but the traffic ahead suggests otherwise. Panic bubbles within me; my boss has zero tolerance for lateness-last time, he garnished my tips, making an already tough night even harder after I was dragged off the stage by a rowdy drunk patron. So the thought of my phone dying before I can charge it at work amplifies my anxiety, as well as reminding me of the electricity bill I also need to pay if I want the power back on

As the bus inches closer to my stop, my heart races with each passing second. The pit in my stomach grows deeper, knowing I'm already ten minutes late. When the bus finally halts, I kick off my heels, clutch them in one hand, and sprint the last block, my feet pounding the pavement. My boss is going to lose it since I am

the opening act tonight

The club looms ahead. Its garish lights come into view. I slip through the back alley, pulling the mask from my handbag at the same time. I knock on the heavy door. I slip the mask on, tying the laces around my ponytail to ensure it doesn't come off

"You're late!" Steve, the bouncer, snaps as the heavy door, muffling the thump of the bass from inside, opens

"Is he in?" I ask, trying to catch my breath

"Yeah, he's in," Steve replies, his expression grim. "And he's in a horrid mood. You better brace yourself."

Great, that's just what I need. I step inside, feeling like I'm stepping into another world