Hide in the next room... And hope for the best.

You and Delila run into the adjacent room. It looks like a bedroom, but it’s hard to know exactly what it is in the dark. You let go of Delila and open a closet. As suspected, it’s empty. “Come here,” panic reached your voice as you signaled Delila to come over.

“There’s hardly enough room in here,” she grimaces at the idea of sharing this space with you. “Are you joining me?”

You don’t answer. You **** her inside and closed the closet behind you. You push Delila in the corner and try to focus on her face in the pitch dark. “Stay behind me. If anything happens to me, just run. Understand?”

The shouting crept into the kitchen/living room. It sounded robotic now that it was this near— maybe like it was coming out of a radio or TV speaker. Delila didn’t answer you, but she became small in the corner. You felt your heart throbbing against your chest, but above all, you could also hear Delila starting to breathe harder behind you.

Reluctantly, you turned around and pressed your hand against her mouth. The outline of her facial structure came to your eyes in a vague sketch. She stared back at you in horror. The voice outside the closet came closer as if it was going to open the closet, but then it became muffled…distant…quieter…and then it was silent.

The closet started to spin, and your vision started to blur. You felt Delila grip your wrist as her eyes rolled back. When the spinning stopped, you noticed that the closer wasn’t empty. There were clothes and some stuff on the floor. You’re still pressed against Delila, but neither of you has moved yet.

Delila pushes you back gently and looks around. “Done estamos nosotras?”

“What?”

“Where are we?” She reapers herself, but this time in perfect English.

You blush, feeling foolish for not guessing it right the first time. She inhales deeply and then pushes you out of the way. “I think I know where we are,” she says and opens the closet. You try to stop her, but you’re greeted by warmth and chatter outside the room.

The room has music playing above you from hidden speakers. In the middle of the room is a heart-shaped bed with a giant mirror directly above it. The carpet is red and fluffy. The room itself smells similar to Delila, fruity– maybe a little more artificial than she does, but close nonetheless.

Delila peeks her head out the door and quickly closes it as music and loud conversation spills in. She looks back at you, looking like she belongs in her lingerie. “I’m at work,” she blushes, looking down at herself. Her fishnets and dark panties make sense now.

When you swallow, it sounds loud. “You’re a…?”

“Showgirl,” she hugs herself again, but the time you’re so, she’s just trying to cover as much of herself as possible. “I don’t sleep with anyone, I promise. I just serve drinks and try to entice people to come in for a good time.”

“Good time?” You try not to, but you look at her up and down.

“I- I mean…dancing. No solo sexo.”

“So, we’re in…Florida then. I don’t think I’ve ever operated here,” you peel your eyes away from the girl and try to focus on something else. Instead, you see the look at the bed and imagine how many people have used it since Delila’s departure to…the backroom, you guess.

“Yes… back home. They’ve probably replaced me with someone else at this right. It sounds like I’ve been gone longer than I thought,” she sighs and places her hands on her hips. “I wish there was a better way to get you back to where you belong.”

You jab a thumb at the closet. “I can’t just wish myself back using your magic closet?”

She smiles cutely and shakes her head. The buns on her head jiggle with the sways. “No, no creo que eso funcione– God, I’m so sorry. I’m already used to speaking Spanish.”

“It sounds nice,” you smile at her and sit on the foot of the bed. “I like it.”

Delila closes her legs and moistens her lips. “You’re much nicer than the clientele I’m used to working with.”

Your brows knit, silently asking her for more.

“They’re just… very controlling and not too kind. The other girls I talk to say if I want to make more money, whoring does exactly that. But I couldn’t bring myself to be defiled by the men that come in here. Not constantly like them, at least.”

You scoff, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re telling me you’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” she says beneath a breath. “I am.”

A hard blush washes over your cheeks as you consider the lewdly dressed woman before you in sneakers.

“You’re the first boy that’s talked to me so kindly that wasn’t my brother or father,” she leans against the wall and locks the door so no one can interrupt. “At first, I thought I was attracted to you because you were the first person I saw since I was trapped back there, but now that I’m talking to you, I think it’s because I knew you were a…I don’t know. Eres un tipo agradable. Y eres muy guapo,” she smiles.

Delila’s words come out smoothly, and she’s kept her eyes on you as she’s spoken. Your face wrinkles as you scoff. “I’m…so sorry, but I don’t understand that last part.”

“No worries,” she winks, joining you on the mattress. “It’s all compliments. Uh, we’ve detailed from where we were at…how do we get you home?”