Selma stood at the front of the stage as the crowd roared below. Her last song had been climbing the charts over the past few weeks and her flawless performance sent the crowd into a frenzy. She could barely see past the first few rows as the bright lights shone down. She blinked. She blinked again and remembered the screaming fans reaching up to her, cheering for an encore. A few more blinks. She wasn't at the front of the stage wearing a bodysuit and fishnets, she was at the back in a bikini and thong holding a pose. She watched Selma take all the praise as she remained frozen in position with her legs spread apart and her hands on her hips. She had always been a back-up dancer. She would never be good enough to headline her own concert, just good enough to be a part of the background.
Her eyes blinked open as the dim light bulb came into view. Was she dreaming or did that happen? Selma sat up and wiped her eyes. She looked around the small room which contained a single bed, dresser and small closet. Selma's shower was bigger than her room. Old shower, she thought. Then she remembered the past few days in horrifying detail. She remembered seeing the spiral on her phone and having the overwhelming urge to become a back-up dancer. Nothing would stop her from fulfilling that dream. And she did it. She became a back-up dancer and signed over her empire to Roland Hills. It felt like a gut punch realizing what she had done. And now that she was consciously aware, she was also aware that she now belonged to Roland. She was placed in her small room like a toy in a box waiting to be taken out by its owner. Selma tried to work out a way to get out of this, but she realized that the damage was done. Everything she worked for now belonged to him. The sad reality, as she remembered her new name and tattoos, was that now she did too.
The morning routine had started to settle in. Selma got dressed in the only clothes available. Black yoga pants and a sports bra. She put her long black hair in a pony tail and coated her luscious lips with a red lip gloss. She didn't know why she dressed this way particularly, but she knew she had to. After she was dressed, she picked up her phone. The little device that everyone takes for granted could have been her key to escape, but instead it was used to instill further programming. She clicked one of the few apps installed called "Roland's Program" and a spiral filled her screen. She smiled as the soothing sound and words sent a wave of pleasure over her. Words flashed on the screen:
"Doll"
"Toy"
"Back-up Dancer"
"Diamond"
"Bimbo"
"Obey"
"Compliant"
"Property of Roland Hills."
The words repeated in a loop as she felt them alter her subconscious. She knew if she did this every day it was only a matter of time before the programming would be complete. Her body was under his control, but her mind was still free to think. She knew the programming was designed to chip away and she could do nothing to stop it as she carried out physical commands.
After the program was done, Selma stared in the mirror and repeated the same thing she repeated after every session.
"My name is Diamond Bimbo. I am a back-up dancer for Roland Hills. I am property of Roland Hills. My body belongs to Roland Hills."
Selma repeated her mantra four more times. At the end she smiled. Behind the smile was worry and fear, but on the surface she looked like an airhead. If this kept up, she knew the same would happen on the inside.
***
"Look at me when I speak" yelled the flamboyant dance instructor, Jean Pole. "I want to see your ass sing to me. Sing to me with the beat."
He paced behind the twerking dancers. Selma looked over at Myla, the beautifully toned blond twerking each cheek with distinct control. Myla caught her looking and shot her a glance. Selma concentrated on her own ass and tried to twerk like she knew she could. But it was harder now. It's as if something in her mind was blocking her usual dancing skill.
"Stop." Jean shouted.
The girls stopped, turned around and stood at attention.
"Monsieur Hills asked me to find him best dancers for upcoming concert. After careful consideration, I decided it shall be determined in a dance-off. The first song is Look At Me Now by Selma Lopez. The dancers will be Myla Simmons versus" Jean paused for dramatic effect. "Diamond Bimbo."
Selma smiled delighted that he picked one of her songs. She had created the dance from scratch and worked on the choreography for months not to mention all her flawless concert performances. This was a guaranteed win, she thought.
Both dancers moved to the front and stood side by side. Selma looked at Myla who made an L-shape with her fingers and put it on her forehead. Selma brushed off the taunt and focused. Just another performance, she thought.
The music started and Selma started moving to the beat. But something was off. It's as if there was a delay of when she heard the sound and when her body reacted as she danced out of sync. She glanced at Myla and saw the familiar dance being executed to perfection. Myla was even singing along as she moved her body rhythmically to the music. Selma tried to focus her mind, but despite her best efforts, she couldn't do the dance to her own song. As the song finished up, Jean stepped between them.
"Congratulations madame Myla, tres bien." Jean looked at Selma. "Madame Bimbo. I have never seen such massacre of simple dance. You need to train harder."
All the dancers stared at Selma trying to hide their contempt and laughter. She hung her head in embarrassment and took her place back in line.
***
Selma sat in her room still in shock she couldn't remember the moves to the dance that took her over a year to create. It's as if her old life was slowly becoming a distant fantasy she used to have. She stared at herself in the mirror, no longer seeing Pop Idol Superstar Selma Lopez, but instead seeing Diamond Bimbo, an amateur back-up dancer for Roland Hills.
Selma's phone snapped her out of her mirror trance. It was a message from Roland requesting her presence in his office.
Selma paused before opening the large oak doors. She walked in and stood in awe at Roland's office. His desk was in front of a massive window that overlooked the ocean behind him. To the right, the wall was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves full of books and collective memorabilia. In the left corner was a television and couches, and along the wall were pictures of Roland's performances and meetings with famous people. The floor was wood that matched the doors and the rest of the shelving. In the middle of the room was a large white rug. On each corner of the rug was a square glass booth. In three of the four booths, there was a girl dancing. Despite not looking at each other, all girls were dancing in sync. Beside Roland stood Selma's old personal assistant Tara, dressed in a skimpy maid's uniform holding a tray of drinks with a smile on her face.
Roland motioned Selma over to his desk.
"That's enough Lauren." Roland said.
Blond hair emerged from below the desk as Lauren, one of Roland's main back-up dancers, stood up and wiped her mouth. She smiled at Selma as she walked out.
"That's a daily reward you can look forward to once you become a back-up dancer. Or should I say if you become a back-up dancer."
He stood up and poured himself a drink from the tray Tara was holding.
"By the way thanks for the new personal assistant. Since she was on your payroll, her contract transferred over and we modified it a bit to add more duties. Isn't that right, maid?"
