Saving Ophelia - Chapter FourMature

I feel as though this chapter is very near the edit of its editing journey, and everyone has been wanting to read some of my story, so I thought I'd share this with you all...

    In the other bedroom, Lydia gathers her costume for her upcoming shift at the gentleman’s club. Teagan follows her around like a shadow, watching her every mood.
    “I don’t like it,” Teagan says, and Lydia sighs. Lydia had been asked if she would like to incorporate the heavier side of dancing to her curriculum. The penetrative kind. Lydia turns around, and holds Teagan’s shoulders. “It makes me uncomfortable,” she pleads.
    “If you know what my feelings for you are, you shouldn’t be,” Lydia says, and pulls Teagan into a soft embrace. Teagan pulls away just enough to kiss Lydia.
    “Please don’t,” Teagan whispers, and Lydia pulls away.
    “I’m going to be late,” she says, and hurries out the front door. Teagan lies down on Lydia’s bed, and tries to fall asleep.

    An hour passes before she gets out of bed, and follows Lydia.

    The streets are crowded with drunk teenagers. The street lights cast shadows everywhere, and in every dark nook, someone has found a place in which to shoot up, or make out. Teagan pulls her coat tighter around herself, as the eyes of an older man set upon her busty chest. Teagan ducks into the club next to the No.5 Orange, and searches for Lydia.
    She manages to slip past the two bouncers by flashing her wrist at them. She leaves her coat on as she wanders across the heavily packed dance floor. The half closed eyes of the dancers, all trying desperately to be free of their own minds. To be free of the week previous, and the work weeks to come. Teagan, who has always tried desperately to drive attention away from herself, gets a glass of water from the bar. She discovered that if she holds a drink, less men will try and buy her one.
    Even now, she holds the drink close to her person. Just because she holds a drink doesn’t mean someone will try and take her home. She had learned her lesson the hard way with an unwelcome friend named Rufalin. She scans the crowds, hoping that Lydia felt the urge to warm-up before going to work.
    After circling two more clubs, Teagan looses her incentive. Lydia must already be at the No. 5. She sighs, and escapes to the street above. She surfaces and finds a place to stand far away from the line up for the club. Teagan contemplates her next action. Maybe she should go home, it was getting fairly late.

    Then, from across the street, Teagan sees someone she recognizes.
    “Iron? Iron Man?!” Teagan calls out, immediately regretting it, seeing the tall dark man walk down the main street. She ducks in midair, hoping he doesn’t see her. He turns around, and looks at her with glazed eyes. It’s late at night, and he is not wearing is sunglasses. His red eyes judge her as she tries to hide in open air.
    “Teagan?” He calls, and walks towards her.
    “Iron, can you see me?” Teagan asks, offering her arm. He wraps both his hands around her slight arm.
    “Almost,” he says sadly. “It is hard to see anything but my oncoming death,”
    “Iron Man, for the last time, you are not dying.”
    “Lydia will not appreciate seeing you down here so late. She also won’t approve of your new job..”
    “Don’t change the subject Iron Man, and you wouldn’t dare tell her what I’m doing. And you aren’t allowed to judge me, not ever. I love you, but what your doing is just stupid. Your entire fortune wasting away to drugs and booze, Ammrea has already left you, how long until you let Lydia down and she abandons you too?”
    “There is deep reason to the sedation,” Iron Man says, “that is beyond surface feelings like jealousy. The things I see, the things that young man sees, are that which no one man is made to burden. Especially not for a lifetime. Can my Teagan keep a secret if she promises she'll also let me take her home?” Iron feels the air, and feels the light traveling unnoticed past his optic nerves. It was late at night, far to late to be out.
    “Alright, explain,” Teagan says, and turns around, so they will wander slowly towards the house as they talk. She takes no notice of the young high class staring obtusely at her. They must have sure been a sight, A tall mysterious man, his face as dirty as his coat, his stoop eerie and foreboding. And then there were always those crimson eyes that stood stark against his pitch skin. And Teagan, precious in her petite form, caramel and smooth. Pretty.

    “My people,” Iron starts, “have gifted nobles with a power that is known as, ‘Siyte’. In the beginning, our history says the God’s of life tried to make man three times. The first, they made man from maze, that is, corn stalks. It is a legend that the Sun God Guhnaya gave all the corn children this foresight, but then, the God's decided a man made of corn could not survive on only the genetics that made up corn, and would surely detonate in any type of sunlight.
    “So they created men made of dirt, who was much more sturdy, and they were given this divine sight as well, but the men of dirt also failed in the world, whenever rain fell. So the God's tried once more, with the creation of man as of now.
    “But, the Gods were angry that their gift had not been used previously, so they granted it to only one man. One man who had the power to burden the worries and pains and happiness and joy of all others.
    “Now every spawn from that one man have Siyte. These people who are gifted are known as Nobles. They are a great asset to a village, because the gifted can see through time. They are almost treated like royalty, everyone must be sure that the Nobles’ have what they need to survive through each drought.
    “When the Nobles are young, their Siyte is very small, but the power is still there. Even a Nobles' baby can speak to its mother, lending her its' Siyte, because when a Noble is pregnant, she has no Siyte. When the baby is born, the mothers’ Siyte returns to her, and the baby’s Siyte goes back to being very small, until their eyes start collecting light, and creating Siyte. A baby born of Siyte is blind for many months, and requires much more care than a normal child, because of it’s blindness. When a Noble is a child, it can see just fine, and it’s Siyte is also quite strong. But as these Nobles get older, their normal ability to view the world decreases as their Siyte becomes stronger.
    “But when they actually lose the ability to see through their eyes' starts at a very old age. Because I take all of these drugs, I have aged a great deal on the inside. My very soul is twice my real age. I will soon be blind, but my own destiny grows clearer and clearer. Do you understand Teagan?”
    “Yes,” she says. “I‘ve heard the legend before, but never in so much detail. Is Ammrea a Noble as well?”
    “No, but she is soon leaving to go to the Zaire to rescue one. My sister, Aluna. Aluna is pregnant and is very vulnerable.”
    “Will you die soon?” Teagan asks,
    “Yes, I can see it, but I won’t try to stop it. I cannot stop it, I haven’t enough power left in me. Drugs have left me weak. And anyways, would you try and stop destiny?” Iron Man asks, staring gravely into Teagan’s eyes.
    “No,” Teagan says, shaking her head.
    “Then you are very intelligent, woman,” Iron Man says, and stops. “We are here.” Teagan looks at her surroundings, and sees that they have not travelled very far at all. Not more than a block. Teagan looks up at the flashing sign, and turns to Iron Man,
    “I thought I should let this whole thing go?”
    “I changed my mind,” Iron Man says in his deep voice. Teagan shoots him a dirty look.
    “You knew where she was this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Iron Man has finished talking to Teagan. He backs away, blending with the deep night until he becomes nothing but a pair of red eyes in the blackness. Teagan lingers only for a moment, before running into the gentleman’s’ club.
    She had seen the place open at night before, she had even worked a few nights. But she would always enter by means of the back door, never the entrance.
    “Its sure late to see you out and about,” the doorman says to Teagan, who smiles politely at him. He grins at her, his eyes greedily taking her in, as always.
    “I’ve never seen the show from this side before,” she says, hoping that she doesn’t sound like a jealous lover.
    “Have a good night, missy,” the doorman says, and lets her pass.
    As soon as she is inside, the woman who usually asks customers for a cover charge gives her a tremendous hug, and takes her coat.
    “I guess you’re here for Lydia’s spin?”
    “Yeah,” Teagan shrugs, and escapes the conversation before it starts.
    When the club was first purchased, it was nothing but an empty warehouse, with tangled wires stretching across the grey floors, broken lighting fixtures, and no running water. But when the club was transformed, it became a place filled with radiance and transgression.
    Lights illuminated some spots, while concealing others. Neon outlets provided a sexy glow on the curves of the beautiful women that filled the locale, and outlined the heavily fitted bars (two on other side of the space) to cater to any customers’ beverage needs. Bright lights outfitted the stage and runway, making it the focus of the entire club. Chairs and tables were directed towards this stage, as was the attention of every customer to ever enter the nightclub.
    Teagan finds a place to sit in one of the dark corners of the club, and in the hope to avoid any kind of attention, she leaves her jacket on. One of the waitresses walks by, and sees Teagan hiding in the corner, and brings her a water bottle. Teagan thanks her, and sets her eyes on the stage. Nobody is up there, and the customers seem anxious.
    Teagan waits for the next dancer, and crosses her fingers together, hoping that it will be Lydia. Somewhere in the back of her throat, Teagan begins to feel the pull of a song with heavy bass; perfect for seduction. It grows until it reaches her ears, and then through the soles of her boots. For a moment the music warms her, and she sighs in the relief of it. But then the dancer bursts onto the stage, and Teagan suddenly feels cold.
    The woman on the stage is not Lydia, but Bunny Valentine. A redhead with thick hips and a heavy top. Bunny slithers around a situated pole on the runway, her body snaking to the beat. Teagan gets up, rage boiling up inside of her.
    She storms into the changing room, hoping to see Lydia there. Then back to the bar, then to the washrooms. Then she checks them all again. She sees one of the other regulars, with the show name ‘Kitty Feral’, and stops her in her tracks.
    “Have you seen Lydia tonight? Did she come in?”
    “Teag,” The dancer says, speaking loudly over the bass, “you should go home, its late,”
    “Where’s Lydia?” Teagan demands, this time louder. A few heads turn. Kitty’s eyes glance towards the V.I.P. rooms for just a second. She doesn’t mean to, but its enough, and Teagan turns away.
    “Teagan, it’s not worth it, stop!” Kitty acts fast, and latches onto Teagan’s arm. Another woman comes over, and grabs hold of Teagan’s other shoulder, and Teagan struggles against them.
    The rage that had seemed hot and furious before now becomes so hot that it feels cold. Images of Lydia bent over a man, or worse, him bent over her are enough to subdue Teagan. She falls to her knees, the anger progressing to numbness.
    “It’s not worth it,” Kitty says in her ear, and pulls her back up onto her feet. Teagan torpidly nods, and lets Kitty drag her outside. She hails a cab, and hands Teagan a twenty. “You go home, and you stay there,” she says, “Lydia will be home when you wake up.”
    Teagan mumbles her address to the cab driver, and curls up against the leather seat. She looks out the window so the driver cannot see her tears.

The End

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