Re: Songbird in an iron cage [rhetoric]Mature



prompt response: songbird in an iron cage
written by: rhetoric
word count: 635

comments:  I know the word count is off a little, but I honestly edited it down as much as I felt I could.  I figure it's less than fifty words over, and the fact that it's under 1,000 words is pretty impressive for me.  what?  I'm long-winded.  If it's a problem, I can try to re-edit it, but I'll probably just have to withdraw the submission.


Judah went to Satin Delicacies every night; a routine he had started more than two years ago.  He would clock out of work, change his clothes, grab a turkey and cheese sandwich on his way out of the door, and drive to the small, run-down old factory in the boonies outside of town.

The factory hadn't been remodelled much before being turned into an erotica club.  Wrought iron cages hung from the high ceilings, dangling above the customers that loitered all around the cavernous room.  Beautiful women were chained inside the cages, glistening with body glitter and sweat.  Done up like princesses without the dresses; stockings pulled up their thighs and lace stretched over supple skin.

The first time he had come to the old factory had been for his bachelors party.  He'd had no one to go out and celebrate with, until his co-worker had taken pity on him.  Mac had shown up at his doorstep at midnight, a wide, shit-eating grin on his face, with a dozen of his own friends in tow. 

They'd outnumbered him in votes and before he realized it, they were dragging him into Satin Delicacies.

In cage number four, in the far corner, he finally spotted her.  Luscious red curls hanging down in front of her, shielding pieces of her creamy flesh from onlookers.  Her olive green eyes pale and empty.  They'd drugged her again.  Tonight would be different, he reminded himself.

Tonight, things were going to change. 

He made his way into the dank back area and knocked on the metal door.  A hulking man in a black t-shirt two sizes too small opened the door.  "Where's your pass?"  His voice was  scratchy and ragged.

Judah held up a laminated VIP pass and the man stepped aside.  The back room had been remodelled to a surprising extent; the walls were crimson and the couches were all worn brown leather.  Glass tables were set up around the room; on all of them were a variety of drugs.  The coffee table in front of the couch had six medium-sized square plates, a frosted blue porcelain, and each plate held a differently colored pill.  On one of the side tables was a matching tray, about fifteen inches long and four inches wide, that held a pyramid of rolled joints.  There was a small bar set up against the far left wall.  Candles were littered all over the room, casting strange shadows.

It had taken Judah 740 days to pay for the VIP pass.  The waiting list alone was over a year long.

The second security guard was a man he recognized.  He waved him over.  "Judah!  I thought it was you coming in tonight.  Congratulations, my friend," he said, his smile warm and relaxed.

The first guard shut the door and turned to them.  "You need to pat him down, Louis," he warned.

Louis looked from his fellow guard to Judah and shook his head.  "Don't worry, Felix.  Judah's a good guy.  He'd never hurt one of the girls."

Felix was displeased, but when Louis told him to go fetch the girl, he did so without a word.  A moment later, the door opened.  She looked ethereal; the way her skin shone in the flickering light, the flowing curls that fell over her shoulders.  Having her so close to him made his heart race.

The realization that he would be allowed to touch her overwhelmed him.  He cleared his throat nervously.  The guards left.

Judah moved into action.  They had very little time.  His hand touched her arm and an electric current seemed to tingle along his nerves.  "I can get you out of here," he said, his voice low.  She lifted her eyes to his and he could see her struggling through the fog of drugs.  "Do you trust me?"

The End

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