His Destructive, Toxic Love

Eliza didn't beat around the bush. "Lydia, I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Lydia gave Eliza a once-over, then stepped aside. "Come in, let's chat."

Eliza laid out her predicament.

It took Lydia a moment to absorb the news. Eliza had always been the top student and the pride of their town. She had even gotten into the most prestigious university with flying colors. "Are you... in trouble?"

Eliza nodded, her every move heavy with worry. "I owe someone money, so I came to... ask for a job."

"You don't have a job?" Lydia was taken aback.

"I do, but I was thinking of working evenings... like a part-time gig. Can you help me out?" Eliza bit her lip.

She'd heard Lydia was now the top manager and could probably find a spot for someone without much hassle. It just depended on whether Lydia was willing to help.

Lydia lit a cigarette, her piercing eyes never leaving Eliza. "You can't handle this job."

"I can dance." Eliza had been talented from a young age. In college, she even taught herself jazz and folk dance. "I can do this."

"It's not about whether you can dance. It's about..." Lydia lit her cigarette, took a long drag, and blew out the smoke slowly, her brow furrowed. "...this place is full of all kinds of people. It's not for someone like you."

"There's no such thing as someone who can't adapt. It's only environments that challenge us. I can do this."

Eliza had never been more determined.

Lydia had been on her own since she was eighteen. She knew that a woman wouldn't come to a place like this unless she was truly desperate. The scars on Eliza's wrist confirmed her suspicions. "Are you sure?"

Eliza nodded. "I'm sure."

"Because we wwere classmates, I won't turn you away. But Eliza, you need to understand that this job may pay well but comes with a price. ffa client touches or kisses you, that's just part of the deal. Can you handle that?"

Lydia wanted to be upfront about the harsh realities.

Being a dancer was seen as the lowest rung of society, looked down upon, and despised. In the eyes of men, dancers were mere playthings devoid of dignity and value. Their bodies were on display, to be manipulated at will. Such was the fate of a "plaything."

"Everything but sleeping with them... that's my limit." That was Eliza's bottom line.

Lydia chuckled, crushing the cigarette. "Alright, then. I'll take you in. Come by this weekend, and I'll personally teach you some rules and techniques. You start work on Monday night. Any issues?"

"No issues. I'll be there."

By day, Eliza was the Deputy

Director of the Design Department at

Welton International, a dedicated

professional. By night, she

transformed into a mysterious belly

dancer, moving amongst various men. Her dance was graceful and passionate, an enchanting performance that had the men screaming for more, unable to tear themselves away. The air was thick with greedy desires, the stench of money, and the intoxicating allure of luxury.

"Mr. Casper, you've never been to a place like this before; you don't know what you're missing."

Casper wasn't thrilled about the venue, but this loyal client had been with Welton International for over a decade, so he couldn't complain too much.

"Mr. Young, it looks like you are a regular here."

"You're in for a treat. They've got a new dancer, and her figure is... so supple and slender. She looks so hot too. You'll see what I mean soon enough." Mr. Young was practically buzzing with excitement. As they spoke, several dazzlingly dressed dancers entered the VIP room.