The beautiful game - Part 2 - Remastered 04

Chapter 4 - It never rains, but it pours

Three months after the failed escape, in a strip club somewhere in the seedy part of the city, Milos, now known as Candy Doll, shook his booty and danced the night away. This was his punishment, seven nights a week, dancing, and stripping, his only purpose in life now, to please a room full of rowdy drunken men.

(See image 4.1)

Inside he felt completely numb, having lost all hope of ever getting back to how things used to be. He was trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, one where night after night he was forced to gyrated his plump backside back and forth to the beat of the awful techno music blaring out, feeling the weight of the massive implants pulling on his chest, all the while trying to keep his footing on his slick dance podium, perched atop a pair of towering platform heels, and trying to block out the lecherous looks from the horny men below.

(See image 4.2)

Leaning down for some creep to place a note inside the waistband of his tight thong, he felt the man's fingers linger before reaching down and giving his bottom a squeeze. Milos didn't react, instead, he let his mind wander, wondering, like he often did, what had become of Coach. He hadn’t seen him since the night of the escape and feared the worst.

(See image 4.3)

He desperately wanted to believe he was ok, and that one day they would see each other again but deep down, he knew it was probably not going to happen.

Thinking back to the failed escape attempt he cursed himself for not being smarter, for not seeing the signs, and for not being better prepared.

Milos knew exactly why the plan had failed; he had heard Marko tell the story many times. Nothing seemed to please him more than to rejoice in the tale of how he had outsmarted his onetime rival, setting him up by planting the seed of the escape in his mind, talking about where he kept his car keys, letting him oversee the combination to the safe, and for the cherry on top, making him believe he would be away every Thursday evening, thus giving him the perfect opportunity to bring it all together.

Away from the strip club, Milos now had a new home, taking up a room in Marko’s mansion, and as a result, there was rarely a moments rest bite from his torment. His days were almost as bad as his evenings in the strip club, each day forced to dress up in some demeaning outfit before following Marko around like some lost puppy, expected to always be by his side, just a silent blonde bimbo, arm candy for Marko to flaunt.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Marko these days was nothing but cruel, taking a note from Sonja’s book by constantly thinking up new humiliating tasks for Milos to perform. Like looking after his dog, Brutus.

Milos was now tasked with feeding and bathing the hulking great Doberman but worse by far was having to walk the incredibly strong mutt twice a day. A tough task for anyone given the brute strength of the animal but made almost impossible, tottering along on towering platform heels, with huge beachball size breast obscuring his vision as Brutus dragged Milos stumbling along behind, frantically trying to keep hold of the lead with his impractically long nails, desperately trying to keep his balance.

This was Milos’ life now, a depressing existence, to say the least, day after day, a prisoner in his own body, trying to keep Marko happy for fear of punishment, that is until one night while working his shift at the club, he received a glimmer of hope.

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With his feet aching and his legs sore having just danced for two hours straight, being ogled, and heckled in front of a leering crowd, Milos was finally given a short break to freshen up, use the bathroom, and get himself a well-needed drink.

Mincing towards the bar on his ridiculously tall stripper heels, his eyes downcast to avoid slipping on the slick drink soaked floor, someone approached him from behind.

“Well, if it isn't, Milena Ivanovic, former star of the Tigers, the woman who singlehandedly won her team the cup last year before mysteriously vanishing”, a man said from behind.

Milos turned slowly to see a short blonde-haired man with a scruffy beard, wearing a cheap worn out looking suit, “fancy finding you dancing here, in this part of town, now there’s got to be a story behind that”?

(See image 4.4)

“I think you’ve got the wrong person”, Milos replied, knowing Marko would be angry if he spoke to the man for too long.

The man smiled, “no, I’ve done my research, Milena, I know who you are, I’m here to help”.

“Who are you and how do you know so much about me”? Milos asked cautiously having had his interest piqued.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I should introduce myself”, the man said extending his hand, “My name is Aleksander Petrovic, but please, call me Alek, I work for a small online news outlet, and I want to tell your story”.

“My story, there’s nothing to tell”, Milos said, looking around nervously.

“Well, we both know that's not true, don’t we, Milena? I don’t know exactly what, Marko Mitic, has over you, but I know something strange is going on here”, Alek said with a smirk, taking back his hand which Milos had ignored.

“And who told you this”? Milos asked having to shout slightly as a new brain pounding track that had just started up.

“I have a cousin that works in the cloakroom upstairs”, Alek answered, also having to shout, “she’s a big football fan like me and recognised you the moment you started working here. She saw how you were being treated and wanted to help, that's why she gave me a call, I’ve been watching you for a few weeks now and what you're going through here is terrible, please, let me help you”.

“I… I… I’m fine really, I don’t need your help”, Milos stated again nervously looking around the room, “thank you for your concern, Alek, but I need to go, I don’t want any trouble”, Milos added worriedly having just caught sight of Olga, who was looking right at them.

“So, you are in trouble, you just admitted it”, Alek replied with a smile, “please just give me five minutes of your time, I’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on here”.

“The bottom of what?” Olga announced as she approached from behind.

“That’s none of your concern”, Alek stated, having to look up at Olga who towered over them, “Milena and I are having a private conversation, so if you wouldn’t mind”? Alek added gesturing for her to leave just as two large men appeared behind him.

“I think you're mistaken, sir”, Olga replied in her calm monotone voice, “there is no Milena here, this here is Candy Doll and if you want to talk to her, you’ll have to pay the going rate”.

Vlad, one of the bouncers grabbed Alek roughly from behind as the other man patted him down before delving into his pocket and pulling out a wallet, “hey, you can’t just take a man’s wallet without his permission”, Alek shouted as the bald-headed man holding his wallet took out his ID card and handed it to Olga.

“I think I just did, Mr… Petrovic”, Olga said, looking down and reading his name from the card, “a reporter I see, well, there is no story here, just an honest club with honest workers, trying to make a living.

“If this is an honest club, I’d like to spend some time with Candy Doll here, how much for 30 minutes”? Alek replied staring Olga down.

Olga smirked, reaching into Alek’s wallet, and taking out all of his cash, “it looks as though you only have enough for five minutes, Mr Petrovic”, she replied, “And you’ve already used that up I’m afraid”.

Alek lunged forward but was grabbed by Vlad, “this is robbery, I want to speak to the manager”? Alek shouted.

Olga seeming unfazed kept a hold of the ID card and the cash before passing Alek’s wallet back to him, “I’m afraid the manager is out right now and you’ve outstayed your welcome, Mr Petrovic”, she announced, “time to leave and If I ever see your face in this club again, harassing my staff, it may just be the last time anybody sees you, I hope I've made myself clear enough", Olga added looking Alek in the eyes with a very serious look on her face, “Vlad, please show, Mr Petrovic to the exit”.

The other bouncer stepped forward and joined Vlad in restraining Alek, “I'm not going to drop this, you know”, Alek screamed as he was dragged away, “I know something is going on here, you haven't seen the last of me”.

Milos looked over at Olga sheepishly, “I don’t know who he is, Olga, I promise, he just started talking to me”, he said before lowering his eyes.

“I know, Candy Doll, don’t worry about it, but look at the time, break’s over, time to get back to work”, Olga said sternly.

“What? but I’ve been dancing for hours, I haven’t even used the bathroom, yet”, Milos said shocked.

“Move, Candy, before I give Marko a call”, Olga commanded.

With a heavy sigh, Milos shook his head before slowly making his way back over to his podium, cursing his luck at having bumped into Alek the reporter.

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Two weeks later, sat outside on the small balcony outside the living room, Milos had a rare moment alone. It was a slightly chilly evening with the sun having just set and In the distance, he could see some children kicking a football about in a park, playing on even though the light had faded. Milos yearned to join them as he thought back to how life used to be, a life he had taken for granted and not appreciated.

In other circumstances, his seat out on the balcony would have been a lovely place to sit and relax, taking in the breathtaking views of the city before him and the mountains in the distance. But it was hard to appreciate such things in his current predicament, soon he would be interrupted by Olga and driven to the strip club, where he would spend the evening being treated like a piece of meat, swishing about, and degrading himself in front of a horde of repulsive men until his legs lost all feeling.

He felt so trapped, all hope of ever going returning to his old life was long gone, and lately, as he sat out on the balcony the thought of throwing himself off often crept into his head.

If the balcony had been a little higher, he probably would have already hurled himself off, but being on the third floor, he knew he would most likely just end up breaking a leg, but even that idea didn’t seem too bad lately, he could at least get a few weeks away from the club.

(See image 4.5)

A sudden gust of wind blew in, sending a chill down his smooth waxed legs. Reaching over, Milos picked up his little fur jacket from the far end of the chair and slipped his arms through the sleeves, careful not to snag one of his nails on the inside lining.

As another gust blew in, Milos shivered before pulling the little jacket tightly around his upper body and placed his hands into the pockets to try and stay warm.

Feeling a piece of paper between his fingertips, his hand shot back out in surprise, looking down he found a note.

Glancing back into the living room to check on Olga, he saw her in her usual spot, lying on the sofa watching some action movie. Trying to act natural, Milos turned his body slightly so she couldn’t see what he was doing.

Clutching the note between his colourful acrylic nails, Milos started to read. “Milena, I know you're scared, but I promise I can help you. Meeting up is a little difficult right now, but answer me this one question, are you being held against your will? Write your answer on the back of this note and leave it in your pocket next time you go to the club, it will get back to me”.

The note was signed A, A for Alek, Milos assumed.

Taken aback by the surprise note, Milos’ mind went into overdrive, thinking about the last time he had worn this coat, and how the note could have found its way into his pocket. Thinking about the outfits he had worn recently, he only remembered wearing the coat once since the night he’d first met Alek at the club, that was six days ago.

A series of thoughts came stampeding through his head. “Can I trust him? Is it another trap? What will Marko do if he finds out?

The thoughts were terrifying, but then again what more could Marko do to him? He had already taken everything from him. With nothing to lose Milos, reached into his handbag, sat on a nearby table, located a lipstick and in the same colour that currently coated his pouty enhanced lips, he wrote one word in block capitals, “YES”.

Looking over his shoulder once more to check on Olga who seemed oblivious to what he had just done, Milos carefully folded the paper twice before placing it back into the same pocket that he had found it.

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An hour later as Milos tottered into the neon-lit entrance of his own personal version of hell, he passed his jacket to a cute blonde girl in the cloakroom who nodded her head and gave him a wink. Returning the nod, the girl smiled before walking away to hang up his jacket as Milos suddenly remembered Alek saying he had a cousin that worked in the cloakroom, this must be her, and this is how he was going to be able to communicate with Alek.

Carefully descended the steep staircase into the club beneath, making quite the racket in his 6-inch platform sandals, Milos wondered if he would live to regret the decision he had just made. He knew it was a possibility as things never seemed to go his way, but in that moment, he didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, he could see an alternative future ahead of him. A brighter future, one in which he wasn't trapped in a life of servitude. Whatever happened next, he was willing to accept the consequences.