THE POWER SHE POSSESSES

Outside the door of the changing room in Club Des Rois, a group of curvy petite women stood with their duffel bags hanging on their shoulders, packed and ready to leave. They looked alike, with the same bright coloured weaves and dresses that clung to their bodies.

"Anastasia? Are you ready to leave yet?" Zoey, the only Caribbean exotic dancer at the Club Des Rois, called out to her. She grabbed her bag and began walking through the double doors.

Anastasia kicked off the six-inch stilettos she had spent most of the night dancing in. She flexed her sore foot and reminded herself that there were worse jobs than having to rub her body parts against a pole while in these killer heels.

"I'm just going to take some more time to clean up and change then I will be ready to go. There is no need to wait for me."

The noise receded as the ladies walked away and Anastacia heaved a sigh of relief. She crossed the distance to stand in front of the mirror in the room, staring absently at her reflection. Her large caramel brown eyes held none of the mirth or warmness that was peculiar to her. Her skin seemed a bit paler than normal, but none of that was noticeable under the neon club lights.

It was probably the long hours that took a toll on her.

Not that it was a problem to anyone here, except it affected her performance. For very obvious reasons which included her college savings, she had to get her shit together.

Grabbing a few paper towels off the table, she wiped her face, taking off all the makeup she had worn earlier. Anastasia slapped her hands on her face before tying up her hair in a loose ponytail. With a final glance at herself, Anastasia turned, a light smile on her lips.

Anastacia rounded the corridor leading to the rear doors. There was an eerie feeling in the air. She could swear she heard the squeak of rubber soles against the tiled floor. Pausing for a minute, she turned, glancing around the narrow corridor uneasily.

There was no one in sight. Yet, she could not shake off the feeling of being watched. She reached back and rubbed her hand across her neck in soothing motions, dismissing what she felt. It was probably a result of working too many shifts, she thought.

The squeaking happened again. Her stomach churned and even before she saw her attacker in the eye, Anastacia knew that this was it. She had to escape. Her eyes darted to the wrought-iron door blocking her exit. And back again towards the backstage hallway that led to the pool on the other side.

Before she could turn, she was slammed into the wall of the Club. Her breath caught in her throat. She twisted her face to catch a glimpse of the stranger in an ill-fitting suit two sizes bigger and the round framed spectacle sitting on an aquiline nose that was too big for his face.

"There is no need to scream. No one can hear you over the sound of the music," he whispered just behind her neck. The stale stench of alcohol clouded her senses. "We are alone."

She turned around and felt the room spin as he put a hand against the wall to pin her in place.

"I have always imagined what it would be like having you by my side. Loved your scent. Loved the way you move. The way you sing and move your body to the rhythm of the music."

Her skin crawled as his hand touched her. Anastasia's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed uneasily.

Though his French accent gave him away, Anastasia could not recall any private sessions with her attacker. This was not a case of a client returning for more Thetryingre no cameras in the barely lit hallway and if anything happened, no one would have a clue.

His hands gripped her shoulders and dug in, shoving her backwards in the direction of the dressing room she had come out from.

"We are just going to get to know each other a bit," His hand wandered to the side of her breast. "There would have been no need for this. For any of this if you had paid the least attention to all your clients equally."

"Make small talk. Buy enough time to get help or think of an escape route.

"It doesn't work that way. You would have to pay for a private session to get that much access to me. You can't blame me. Those are the rules and I have no option but to play to them,"

He grunted. "I guess this is my turn to make the rules. You better play along too and make it worth my time,"

Her lips trembled and she muttered the first word that popped into her head.

"No. This isn't happening. No."

It registered with her that this wasn't about the money. She was about to get molested right in her workplace years after she'd escaped being sexually abused on the streets. Anastacia resisted and dug her feet in, refusing to move any further as they neared the gate. On the other end of the hallway lay the door that opened into the street, leading to her freedom.

His hand tightened on her neck, cutting off her breath in the process. "I pegged you to be one of the smarter ones," he snarled.

Tears wet her cheeks, as his talon-like fingernails dug into her nape, bruising her skin in the process. He shoved her past the gate that marked the end of the inner building.

The last shove sent Anastasia sprawling to the dirty floor. Hidden from view, the peeled paint of the walls flaked off to show the bare concrete walls with algae blooming at the bottom.

Her eyes took in the grey industrial bin, littered with broken bottles and strips of LED light before moving towards his legs and the black pants that pooled at his ankles. There was no weapon she could use for defence here.

He crossed the distance and grabbed her chin, holding up her face in his hands to look at him. Anastasia had no choice but to stare into his hostile, red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't do this. It's not too late to walk away. You have not committed any crimes yet. All you have to do is take a few steps back and walk out of that door and I'll pretend that nothing happened…"

A flash of anger crossed his face. Followed a few seconds later by the smack of his burly palm on her face. She let out a whimper, as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

His eyes were fixed on hers. Cold and hard. "You don't get to call the shots here," he drawled. "Strip."

Her irises flickered with electric, dazzling blue. He gazed into them and glimpsed the power that lay inside of her and he froze. His eyes bulged in shock.

She opened her mouth. The words she wanted to stay stuck in her throat as if she was in some kind of nightmare.

Where was the Club's security when she needed them? She thought.

"No. Get your filthy hands off me," Anastacia could hear the words in her head as she mumbled indecipherable words under her breath.

The burning sensation he felt spread through his body, starting from the hand he had wrapped around her throat. The excruciating pain surged and warm urine trickled down his legs before the screams came.

Tiny red sparks ignited on his hand, flaring into a bright crimson flame that spread quickly across his entire body. The inferno lighted the entire yard.

He screamed hard as he looked up.

The grin on Anastasia's face had gotten sinister. A moment later, he was staggering to his feet. Moving in the opposite direction, farther from her with each step.

He let out a blood-curdling scream. His blazing hands beat at the rest of his body frantically in an attempt to put out the flames.

Stunned, Anastacia watched the scene unfold. She had just set a man ablaze without doing anything to him. There was no way she was going to explain this to the cops or even her co-workers.

She reached for her bag which had fallen in their struggle. Taking out her phone, she jammed the emergency number blindly.

The thud of his body hitting the floor reached Anastacia and she squeezed her eyes shut. The smell of roasted flesh filled the air and bile rose in her stomach.

Please, let him be alive. Please.

Seconds stretched out in her face. Anastasia could not hear any background noise anymore. It had gotten as quiet as a ghost town.

She remained on her bruised knees, unsure what to do and

waiting for something to happen. A hollow silence filled the yard.

After what seemed like an eternity, Anastacia slid to the cold floor. The doors burst open and she heard the sound of footsteps running in her direction.

She held her breath.

"I didn't do it," She muttered from her spot on the floor.

"No. You didn't."