Work Text:
Her. (7:45 PM)
See you soon, sweetheart.
Her. (7:55 PM)
Baby are you there?
Her (8:30 PM)
6 Missed Calls
#1 (8:35 PM)
Why do you only call me when you’re high?
Text message deleted.
“See there? That’s Wendy Son, the richest customer we’ve got.” She follows the finger her manager’s pointing to. Of course she knows who Wendy Son is. The only girl who can undress her without using her hand. How long was Wendy gone for her manager to think she doesn’t know the businesswoman?
Her exquisite partner in bed is back in this scene. She was almost certain she’ll never see her again. But the way her body is slumped against the couch, eyeing every girl she feels like taking home, and a clean syringe filled with addiction says she’ll frequent here again.
“You’re going to serve her or I will?” Joy, a natural at scamming people into submitting to her will, says beside her. The girl is enigmatic, no wonder every eye turn to her whenever she passes by. Perks of being a beautiful girl and knowing how to hold your head up high.
Irene chuckles, “I guess I will let you take over this one. It is my break, after all.” Then she walks to the nearest exit door to indulge herself in a breathe of fresh air.
Working in a club pays a lot more than her past jobs. Waitressing at a burger joint is not fun, there are a lot of perverted men who can’t stop staring at her own burgers. Then there’s cashiering at a convenience store, the pay is way below her rental fee so she left before her manager can ask her out. The advantage of working in this club is the beast herself, Wendy Son. She’s a generous lass for throwing away her excess money when she receives great service.
Who knew spending time with the girl, seeing her vulnerable side, will end up in a labyrinth of feelings she’ll never escape from.
Irene breathes heavily as she puffs out the smoke entering her lungs. She will never admit it out loud but she missed her. The vibrant, happy go lucky version of Wendy Son. But she can’t deny this version of Wendy Son is what gets her off at night, left with marks to remind her who she will always belong to. The girl can give her everything, her money, her time, her amazing movements in bed.
But she can never be Irene’s.
“A bit cold to be staying out here hmm?” Irene releases a sigh. It was only a matter of time before Wendy finds her outside, cramped up in a dark alleyway.
“Here.” Wendy hands her a joint and a wad of cash, “Take it, as a thank you for sending Joy to me.”
Irene saw red after hearing those words. The picture painted itself out in her mind. Joy gets to touch Wendy in places she craves to, kiss her in a way she wants to, fuck her the way Irene aches for. And no matter how many times Irene tries to erase the picture, it burned at the back of her mind.
Taking too long to reach out, Wendy took it upon herself to light the joint and replace Irene’s halfway burnt cigar. Maybe Irene was waiting for her to do it herself. Well, everything is better when Wendy is doing it for her.
“You’re back.” Irene notes quietly.
Wendy exhales a ring of smoke. She was gone. Her eyelids were droopy, eyes reddening. “I am, happy to see me?”
Irene stares at her. Is she happy to see Wendy Son, the girl who uses her as a distraction from the responsibilities of her evil corporate world, or—there’s no or. She’s always happy to see Wendy, even if it’s just for a quickie in the bathroom.
Wendy never looked weak. Her head is always pointed up, bowing at everyone to show respect, smiling at those who smiles at her. But they’ve never seen this Wendy. The broken, unreachable, lost, yet so so beautiful Wendy.
Something pricks Irene’s heart, but she pulled out the thorns before it can make roots. She’ll take solace in the fact that Wendy trusts her enough to show her the side she’s hiding from the public.
Irene’s throat goes dry when the businesswoman so much as look her way with the same glint in her eye that pulls Irene to her bed without any complaints. Because that’s all there is to it. Wendy on top of her. Wendy inside her. Wendy dominating her thoughts.
“You gave me the silent treatment.” Irene answers coldly.
Wendy sighs, leaning back on the wall and the butt of her joint falling on the floor. She puts out the fire using the heel of her Doc Martens. Irene remembers picking this one out for her when they were out shopping.
Wendy blinks the shock from Irene’s hostility.“I called you six times.” She says evenly.
“Yeah, cause you got high on heroin.” Irene lets out a bitter laugh, “Or is it marijuana?”
Wendy lets out another sigh. She looks exhausted and high. Irene fears she’s not getting through to the businesswoman due to her being so out of it.
“Sweetheart—“
“Is that what you call your other bitches?” Irene spits out venomously.
Wendy tries not to flinch. The girl never talked to her this way and she’s having none of it. Her presence here is a blessing to the club as it brings more attention. And more attention means more money, right?
“No.” Wendy releases a shaky breath, “Sweetheart just let me explain.”
Irene wants to slap her, kick her where it hurts. But she stayed silent. Her frustrations building up inside her. She’s just Wendy’s pastime.
“I thought I meant something to you.” Irene’s voice trembles, “You said you’re done running away from me.”
“I am.” Wendy whispers.
Wendy’s hands begin to tremble from the tension. She reaches to her back pocket, pulling out another gold case filled with her infamous rolled up joints. Lighting it was becoming more of a difficult task. Irene thought she looked pathetic.
“Give me that.” She snatches the lighter from Wendy’s grasp and lights the joint instead.
Their close proximity allows her to breathe in Wendy’s scent. A mix of expensive perfume and the smell of marijuana invades her headspace. Irene hates a part of her that tells her body to reach out and wrap her arms around the beat up businesswoman. She disgusts herself for wanting to be skin-to-skin with the girl who only knows her when she’s in need of a release.
She doesn’t love me
It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
“I think about you everyday.” Wendy says as she puffs out a smoke.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Wendy didn’t spare Irene a glance. She fixes her gaze on the floor. Guilt pulling her body down.
“I always ask you to tell the truth and you’re still going to fucking lie?!” Irene’s voice rises, much to what she prefers. “To what? Take me to bed?”
“No,” Wendy answers quietly.
“You—you can’t expect to say those things and assume that I won’t think about it at night.”
Wendy’s still not returning Irene’s gaze. A clear indication that either the girl is too high to hold her end of the conversation or she’s not as interested as Irene thought. Both choices sends a throbbing pain in her heart.
“And Joy…”
“Joy is nothing but an entertainment.”
Irene scoffs, “And I’m not?”
“Irene,” Wendy lifts her head, “you—you’re different.”
“Wendy, stop.”
“You want me to explain why I haven’t said a single thing to you for a week, and now that I’m explaining it, you’re telling me to stop?” Wendy’s voice lowers with a hint of disbelief. The question is directed more to herself than to the other person within arm’s reach.
“You always want something from me. Things I am not capable of being because I am not the perfect person you envisioned, Irene.”
Irene’s protest dies down at the end of her throat. As much as she wants to deny the accusation thrown at her, she can’t. Irene wants Wendy to be perfect. She wants her to be the only thing in her life that’s not falling apart.
“Then why do you keep on coming back?” Irene cursed herself for being so vulnerable.
“I’m—“ Wendy whispers, “I’m in love with you, Irene.”
“I said stop lying!” Irene shouts, creating a space between her and Wendy.
Wendy flinches for the first time. Her whole mysterious, not giving a fuck about anybody facade fades when Irene’s tears slowly rolls down her cheek.
Her gaze dropped to Irene’s lips, seemingly hypnotized by the redness of it. It was more than enough to awaken something inside Irene.
“I—I’m not lying.” Wendy says quietly.
“This push and pull between us, it’s fucking tiring Wendy.” Irene snaps, “You want me when you’re broken, when you need someone to release your pent up frustrations, but in the morning? You’re gone and I question myself if what we did the night before was a figment of my imagination.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course you don’t.” Irene scoffs, rolling her eyes at Wendy’s pathetic excuse. “How could you when you never gave a shit about anyone else but yourself. It always has to be you. I have to strip naked in front of you and not the other way around. I have to give up something in order for you to stay the night. Do you know how fucked up that sounds?”
Wendy became insecure under the scrutinizing look from Irene. It was rare for her to see Irene so worked up, and any inappropriate thoughts running around her mind is kept tucked inside a box.
“You can’t honestly think that I’ll believe you when you tell me you love me, right?” Irene bravely took a step closer to Wendy, “Not when you just fucked Joy inside the tiny restroom we have inside this strip joint.”
Wendy stiffens at her sentence and takes another step backwards, unfortunately her back collided with a brick wall. One step backwards from her is a step forward for Irene until their faces were centimeters apart.
“I—“ Wendy’s lips quiver.
“I need something believable.” Irene inches her face closer to Wendy, their lips almost touching but not quite. “Can you do that for me?”
Wendy swallows hard. Irene became the girl who urges her to submit herself to, like Wendy is at her mercy. Her eyes travelling from Irene’s eyes down to her plump lips. It was tempting, inviting her to dive down and claim what is hers. Because Irene is hers.
Irene can feel the atmosphere change. The tension that was almost non-existent became palpable. She knew it was a bad idea to reach out and cup one of Wendy’s cheeks but she love bad ideas, she’s standing in front of one. She dismisses her worries and confusions, saving it for another day, because her body craves for Wendy. And Wendy, for the love of all things and good, was looking at her like—like she really was in love with Irene. But this is just pure sex, Irene knows better than to fall for one of the other girl’s scheme.
“Wendy.” Irene gasps her name into her ear, nipping gently at her earlobe. Wendy tightens her hold on Irene’s waist in response, lifting her white polo work shirt to draw circles on the exposed skin.
“Hmm?”
“Take me home.”
Irene pulls back a little to let Wendy lead, and the latter didn’t have to be told twice.
Wendy tucks a strand of Irene’s hair behind her ears, her favorite spot to kiss. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart.”
Irene returns her gaze. She sees the unadulterated desire in Wendy’s darkened eyes. But there was one more emotion she fails to recognize. Was it warmth? Affection?
But it’s not love. She doesn’t love you, Irene.
Wendy had always been mystifying. She has that glint in her eyes that makes people submit whatever they have to her, and she sucked them dry until they lay on the floor lifeless. Irene always found herself speechless whenever Wendy situates herself between her thighs, spelling out her desire using her tongue. She feels as though she has relinquished all her self-control, submitting herself willingly to the touches of the businesswoman. And, oh God, Wendy looked ravishing in these unforgiving candles lit up everywhere in her room. Neighbors be damned as she lets out the filthiest sound she could muster while she chases her high.
All the drugs and the drinks in the world can’t compare to how Wendy makes her feel. The substances she uses to forget about Wendy’s unabashed laughter and sticky body on her. They will never come close to how her heart thumps at the mere touch of Wendy.
She can postpone the regret that’s about to come for tomorrow morning, Irene figures. This—whatever it is that’s going on between them—has an expiration date but there is always a time to bask in her regrets.
Even though Irene never wanted this night to end, it was beyond her power to stop the time.
And maybe Irene can’t do this forever. The push-and-pull relationship she has with Wendy has got to stop, but as experienced hands run across her damp thighs, she forgets why she ever thought of leaving Wendy.
Unfortunately, morning has to come.
She hears rustling and lightweight feet moving around in her room. Irene lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, Wendy did love her. Loved her enough to stay.
“Looks like someone had a fun night.”
She blinks the sleep out of her eyes as reality sets in. Joy was standing at her doorframe with a sly smirk.
“Where’s—“
Joy understands her question even when her voice faltered. “She left, right before I ended my shift.”
Irene can only stare at Joy. What she said did not make sense yet somehow, it was what she was expecting.
“Of course,” a bitter chuckle escaping her throat, “I feel so stupid for falling for her flowery words over and over.”
Irene put her hands in her face. She hopes her teeth draws blood from her lips. Anything to distract her from the growing pain in her chest.
Joy shows pity on her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t, it’s fine.”
Irene was able to hold back her sob until she sees Joy closing her bedroom door. Then the first tear fell from her eyes, a tight clench in her throat as the world crashed and burned right in front of her eyes.
Wendy left, once again.