Nobody Knew

Imagine, if you will, a quiet street in the small town of River Valley. An old street, the road made of cobbled stones, the houses and shops all have stoned walls. People in the town centuries ago had spent day after day building these small cottages that were just about good enough to live in. They were passed down, generation to generation. The buildings were kept in good condition. Only the rare crack told of their true age. Many were transformed into shops, some stayed as houses. Earlier that day the sun had been reflecting off the little metal things placed carefully around the street, causing its residents to protect their eyes from the harmful light, cursing the ball of flames that hung in the sky. Now, though, as the sun descended from it's position, turning the sky into a pinkish color, they looked on with glee. Their hearts were alight with the beauty of it all. Looking at the street from a distance, it's picture perfect. It was the second most popular street in the little town, often used a trademark. Of course, that's not the only reason people visited River Valley.

Now, imagine the street next to this one. It's completely different. This street is the most popular. The olden buildings have been torn down, and new modern ones have replaced them. The cobbled stones have been ripped up and tarmac put down. Rubbish bins line the street, and neon lights scream at you from every angle. "Happy Hour Here!", "X-Rated Movies!", and the one that the stands out most from all of them; "Girls! Girls! Girls!". Two men are thrown out of the latter building. One is Caucasian, tall and slim; the other Indian, short and fat. Both are heavily intoxicated and immediately throw up on the sidewalk. The big, burly man at the door looks on in disgust at the two men. The man at the door goes back into the building, closing the door behind him loudly. Nobody in the building notices; the music playing is too loud for them to notice. From outside you would not be able to hear a note of the prerogative music - the building has been heavily sound-proofed.

Throughout the main room runs a stage. It has been set up to resemble a runway, with red leather booths running alongside it. Of course, poles are set up in supposedly random places along the makeshift runway. The truth is, the owner of the strip club was a smart man and placed the poles at areas where the women would be clearly visible from all angles. Most of the booths were occupied by men. Some in groups, some on their own. Some look like they used fake IDs to get in, some look like they could take their dying breath any second now. It doesn't matter. They're all here for one thing; her.

One by one women appear on stage. All are clad in lingerie, twisting in ways that show off their slim, toned bodies. Within minutes of being on stage, each woman has a minimum of $15 in single dollar notes stuck wherever the men could reach to. As the sweaty, and often greasy fingers came in contact the women would not change their expressions to anything other than gratitude. They did not want the client thinking that they dealt in that kind of service, unless they actually do. What most men do not realize is that very few women in the stripping business cross the line to prostitution. The tips that they receive were more than enough to get by on.

Most women, that is, but her. She crossed the line, and everyone knew it. Even the boss at the strip club knew, but as long as she didn't mix the businesses together, he didn't care. She was infamous around the small town. The men, both young and old, knew her as "the one who gave the best head". All of the women knew her as "the slut who tore apart marriages". Both of these statements were true to a certain extent. She did give the best head - that these men knew of. She did tear marriages apart - but that goes two ways, not one, like the women of River Valley often assume.

The night drags on, but the men are patient. There's nobody else they'd rather see on that stage than her. The lights go low, and they know she's coming. She makes her entrance long and sweet. The men in booths nearly all have erections before she's even seen. There's a long, white sheet draped over the entrance. All the men are able to see is a silhouette of her. Just seeing the length of her long leg and slim torso behind the curtain had the men reaching for their pockets already - they can't help it, she is irresistible. The owner of the club is standing at the back, watching on with a smug look planted on his face, knowing that this night would be another good one.

The curtain drops and the men's prize for tonight is revealed. The curtain pools around her feet perfectly. Her feet have been slipped into high heeled boots, which add several inch's to her height, and cover the length of her calves, stopping at her thighs. They not only emphasize the slimness of her calves, but hide any imperfections on them. Her thighs are bare and a pair of intricately laced black and pink panties sitting low on her hips are the only thing that's stopping the men's minds from going from imagination to 'right-in-front-of-them' real life. She can feel their eyes making their way up her flat stomach and, more often than not, stop at her breasts. They are being covered by a thin material that lifted them and gave them perfect shape. The highly detailed bra matches the panties.

While most men find it impossible to look any further up than her breasts, those who do see that her face is just as beautiful as the rest of her body. She has bone structure that any woman would kill for, and smoldering eyes that could turn any man into dust. Her lips are turned upwards into a smirk that says more than any other part of her body. Her shoulder length, heavily layered hair has been professionally bleached blond from roots to ends perfectly. It frames her face perfectly, adding to the sex appeal that radiates from her.

She walks down the look-a-like runway and commands the attention of every single person in the room, male or female. Every single head is turning in her direction. This is all just a stage show; she's the conductor and they're mere little clarinet players. She wraps herself around a pole, using her legs to pull her slim body up. She lets her torso fall back into the air as she twirls around the pole, making her descent. Everybody in the place has a perfect view of her body, and many men whoop and clap at her actions.

When her body hits the cold hard floor she turns around so she is lying on her stomach. She glances at the first man she can see from where she is lying. From what she can tell, he is somewhere in his twenties and was probably dragged here by his friend who is seated beside him. He wasn't good-looking, but he wasn't ugly either. He keeps shifting uncomfortably in the booth while his friend is looking at her with such lust it shouldn't be legal.

She pushes her body up so she’s crawling on all fours towards this man. She keeps eye contact with him, and when he realizes she is heading for him he started to blush. This automatic reaction causes her to think that he was actually quite cute, but she doesn't let that show in her expression. She glances down at his hands, and she realizes that the reason he is so anxious is because he's married, or so the ring on his wedding finger would suggest. This does not put her off and she continues toward him.

The booths were only slightly lower down then the stage itself, so she is able to crawl onto his lap pretty easily. He does not ease up at all, but she continues anyway. She rubs her body against his, forcing body heat to seep through their clothes and onto the other one. Everyone in the club is watching them, some men are cheering the man on, not understanding why he isn't touching her all over when she is so close. When she doesn't earn any reaction from him while sitting on him, she changes her tactics and stands up. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking she is moving away. Instead, she starts to dance in front of him. She moves her hips perfectly, and she tangles her fingers in her hair as she maneuvers her body down to the floor and back up again.

He stares at her, no longer able to avert his gaze. She's instantly pleased with this and places her hands of either side of his shoulders. Using her knee she is able to push his legs apart and place herself between his thighs. As she continues on with the lap dance she looks straight into his eyes. Her eyes are pleading, begging. Begging for money, he guesses. He holds out his left hand to his friend, who immediately places a bunch of one dollar notes into his sweaty palms. He delicately places one into her panties, trying to touch her as little as possible. She acted as if she didn't notice the one dollar note sticking out of her underwear, and kept up the pleading eyes act. It worked, too. By the time she left the man's lap she was $20 richer.

Hours later she was still dancing. Many men had left to go home to their other halves, but the ones who stayed were the ones she was dancing for. She had earned a lot of money - three times the number of lap dances she had given. Her limbs were starting ache, but she carried on. She never stopped until she was told. After all, she is the club's biggest attraction. She can feel the soles of her feet starting to scream at her in pain, but her expression never slipped. She didn't need to lose any clients, not that she couldn't afford to lose a few of them. It would probably be better for her health if she did lose a few of them. She couldn't remember the last time she had danced for as long and as with as many women as she had this night. Eventually her boss came up the edge of the stage and motioned at her to leave the stage. She obliges gratefully, leaving the other women, who had joined at various stages during the night, still dancing on the stage.

She goes backstage to find some of her things before she went to some very late night 'appointments' she had. Backstage for the strippers in the club is not the backstage that Hollywood films depict them to be. The room is tiny, almost like an over sized box. The walls are unpainted and instead of every stripper having their own mirror and make-up station, they each have a hook to hang their coats on. There's an even smaller toilet through a door on the left side of the room that the girls have to change in.

She takes her knee length black coat off of the hook in the back left hand corner of the room. She closes it over and instinctively shoves her hands into the pockets. A smile quickly plays upon her features when she feels her hand hit off a piece of folded up paper and pen. She takes out the paper and unfolds it, grinning at the familiar writing that stares back up at her. It’s from her only friend that works in the club as well. It was this particular friend who had recommended her to the boss. They have been friends for years, and had always looked out for each other when clients sometimes stepped over the line, or got too stalker like. Everyone who knew the women remotely knew not to fuck with one, or the other would come after you pretty damn fast.

Her friend’s hook was just beside hers, and she had probably slipped the note in while she was stage. It was tradition for the two to leave notes in each others pockets before they left work. Her friend is still on stage and probably knew they would not see each other before she left. She checks her other pocket and found a tissue and scribbled a quick note back to her friend, before stuffing it in the pocket of the shorter red coat that was hung beside hers. On her way out of the box-sized room she checks her make-up quickly in the tiny mirror that was hung on the back on the door, erasing any slight eyeliner and mascara smudges.

She hurries down the corridors, passing the private dance rooms. Glancing at the door all she’s able to see is her own reflection, thanks to tinted glass. She knew there was two options as to what was going on behind the door. The first was the stripper was following the rules perfectly and giving the man a dance that would result in her going home with more cash, and the man going to bathrooms having to ‘take care’ of his very prominent erection. The second was the stripper was crossing the lines completely and giving the man a lot more than just a lap-dance, which resulted in her going home even more richer and the man having someone else ‘take care’ of his erection and not wasting any more time getting home. She could not deny having ever done the second, because it was mostly the reason she had starting selling her body, too. It was when she was giving these extra special lap-dances that she realized men would do a lot to be able to touch her, including pay a large sum of money.

She steps outside the back door of the club, muttering her thanks to the bouncer. The cold air bites at her exposed face and calves like a bitch. She’s about to turn down a tiny alleyway, heading towards the street where her usual customers hang out, when a strong arm grabs her at the elbow. She whips around quickly to see who it is, and when she places the face in her memory surprise hit her like a ton of bricks. It is one of the last faces she is expecting to see. Standing outside the club now with his hair blowing slightly in the gentle wind and towering over her, she would not have said that this is the same man that she had mentally tortured for a good twenty minutes. To him, it probably felt a lot longer. She realizes that this man could be very pissed off with her and terror started to rise within her. She manages to keep an indifferent expression on until he spoke. She’s taken aback when he requested her services for night, and even more so when she told him the price, he just nodded and offered double. As much as she knew she should turn down the offer for her own safety, she can’t pass up that kind of money. She hesitates, then nods. A smile spreads across his features as he links arms with her leading her to his car. It was not a nice kind of smile. It was a more sinister kind, the kind that sent shivers down your spine. She was not sure what to do, so she just smiled back shyly.

**

A scream rips through the air. A scream for help. At first she does not realize it’s her mouth that the sound is coming from. She feels like she’s too numb and tired to scream that loud. Her body won’t give up, it seems. Her chest keeps rising and falling rapidly. She is sat naked in a chair, with her hands tied behind her and her feet tied to each front leg of the chair. She hurts all over, every single muscle aches. He comes back into the dark, damp room and terror wells up within her again.

She does not think she can go through it all again. She can see his stupid fucking sadistic smirk on his lips and she can feel her body start to rack. Sobs escape past her lips as she begs for him to let her go. He does not say anything, instead he walks over to her and cups her already bruised breasts in his hands. Her face is now hanging down, tears falling softly onto her bare lap. He starts to grope harshly at her breasts, sending pain searing through her body. She tries to imagine he is just any other client with a weird fetish she had to cater for. She pretends to do her job; she knew it would piss him off because he got off on her pain.

She lifts her head up, looks him straight in the eye then lets her head roll onto the back of the chair. She forces moans out of her throat. To her, they sound so much more fake then her usual one. Nonetheless, she continues on as his hands works harder and harder on her breasts. Just as she’s about to break from the pain, his palm connects sharply with her cheek. She can feel blood seeping down her face as she snarls at him. He growls a ‘shut up’ at her, and she does so. She turns her snarl into a smile as she begins to add pressure to his crotch using her knee. She can feel his erection through his light jeans and as much as it disgusts her, it was her only chance of getting out of that again. The more she does it, the more his face gets distorted. Eventually, he raises his fist and it connects with her face using full force. She hears something crack, maybe her cheekbone, maybe her nose? She is in so much anyway that she can’t pin-point it. He delivers another blow, and she can taste her metallic blood swimming around in her mouth. She spits it out on him, and does something she did not think she could do ever again. She laughs.

**

The sun was starting to rise as the people of River Valley started to awaken. They went about their daily routines, getting ready for work, getting the children ready for school or perhaps they were still asleep. The atmosphere in the town was that of any usual day. Happy and at ease. Nothing much happened in the small town, and everyone knew each other so things got around by word-of-mouth very fast.

The man living in the last house on the cobble street had his routine, too. He would get up, get dressed, have breakfast, take out the trash then go to work. This morning was different, though. He walked outside and turned down to the little alleyway where the main bin was kept for the street. He had his bag tied loosely at the top. He opened the main bin, glanced inside and the bin-bag he had in his hand fell to the ground, spilling it’s contents everywhere. He stares at the naked body for a few minutes, not quite sure what to do. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He realizes then that he has to call the police. He tells them where it is, and they take the information and tell him to clear out of the alley. He does as he is told, but twenty minutes later the police have still not arrived. He’s starting to get anxious. He can’t understand why they are not there yet. He calls again, and they say they’ll send a car out. Five minutes later, a distinctively marked cop car shows up.

He looks on as the cops stride towards the dumpster. They look inside, and their faces go white pretty damn quick. He starts to chew on his fingernails, worrying that they might start looking at him for this obvious murder. He watches on as they call for back up into their walkie-talkies. One of them gets his address, then sends him back to his house, saying they would call in to interview him later in the day. They stood around the dumpster while waiting for backup to come, waving away curious residents. They were not quite sure what to do - they never had to deal with anything like this before. The only thing that disrupted River Valley was the street of nightclubs and adult movie stores. Other than that, the town was as safe as safe can be.

When backup finally came they learned what caused the delay - they had brought along a doctor from the town hospital. River Valley was too small to have it’s own coroner, let alone morgue. All of the cops stood around nervously as the doctor touched and prodded the body. She muttered something about not having the right equipment to check time of death. She turned over the very rigid body and all the whispers behind her completely stopped. She straightened up, knowing that every one of the cops hated her, then again so did most people in River Valley.

None of them knew what to say. As they took in the deep wounds and scratches that covered her body and the obvious signs of rape they knew that it looked bad for them. Really bad. No-one on the police force was very fond of her, and several had made threats to her. They had not thought that anyone would actually have the guts to hurt her, and had never imagined that anyone would actually kill her. At some stage of the deep silence one of the cops had walked away and called the boss of the police force. He showed up seconds later and dismissed the doctor and most of the cops there. They all left except for the three that he had requested the services of. They knew what they were going to do. If they investigated the case and let it get to court it could mean that one of their own men could go to jail. If they could do anything to prevent this, they would. Which is precisely what they did. They got rid of the body and every scrap of evidence they could find. How? That’s not important. What is, is that nobody knew. Nobody knew that they had covered up a horribly sadistic crime that a human being was a victim of.

Nobody knew that she was just that - a human being. They did not know that when she was a child, she was showered in love by her parents. They did not know the pain she felt when both of them were killed in a car crash. Nobody knew that she had to live with her grandparents from then on. They did not know how hard her teenage years were without her parents. They did not know how she felt for her first boyfriend, how much she loved him. They did not know how much it hurt the first time she slept him, they did not know how much sex turned her off and how she went through it anyway just to make him happy. Nobody knew that when he broke up with her, he shattered her heart. They did not know that was when she dropped out of school, they did not know that her grandparents threw her out as soon as they found out she had left school. Nobody knew that at first she was forced into the job of a stripper, they did not know how much she hated it at first. They did not know how much she hated the feel of strange men’s fingers against her skin.

Nobody knew how long it took her to get adjusted into her job and nobody knew that it was just as painful to move into prostitution, but she needed the money. They did not know that every time she heard of a family falling apart she felt a stabbing pain in her chest because she knew she was the cause of it. They did not know how scared she was every time she went home with another man and they did not know she was not scared for her safety, she was scared for his families security. Nobody knew that she did what she did to survive, and it was the cause of her death in the end. They did not know how much pain she went through, or how many times she tried to fight him. They did not know how hard she fought for her right to live, and they did not know how she gave it up in the end, thinking of how many lives she had ruined. Nobody knew any of this, and never did know because the cops had to cover their asses. They buried a horrible crime and a murderer got away without any punishment. And nobody ever knew.