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oOo5rcG.gif I SMELL SEX AND CANDY HERE
While the sun sank into the Pacific, leaving the clouds to resemble a deep purple silk, to the surface would rise the 'Sirens' for another night's work of capturing men under their trance. A thin coat of body shimmer varnishes Emma's skin—evoking frost on glass—as she stares into her designated vanity to put the finishing touches on the performance look of her alter ego: 'Angel'. It had been just over a week since she last came to work a shift at the strip club, caught between finding her son Lucas a new sitter after losing his, and her general avoidance of the venue ever since she met the man crafted of her fantasies, things that night thereafter unraveling into both a dream and a nightmare. But while much was on her mind, the young dancer made certain not to carry her baggage with her through the Sirens doors, especially given her absenteeism. At least she'd attempt.

"New girl! You know that insanely sexy guy you were with the night of the shoot out; Bobby I think he said his name was? He's been looking for you," reports a fellow dancer seated to Emma's left, red beachy waves cascading down her tattooed back. "I thought he was your boyfriend at first, but he came back here a couple times, asked for you, then fucking vanished without wanting to watch or talk to the rest of us. He left his number with one of the others specifically to give to you, but Christ knows what those cunts did with it. My best guess is they probably tried to keep it for themselves. But it seems like he's going crazy for you, babe."

"Oh," Emma stammers, frozen before her mirror as her heart misses a beat. Feigning apathy, she continues, lying to both her colleague and herself. "Well, whatever. I wasn't too interested, anyway. And I don't really have the time to be dating. Least of all, not some thug who frequents a strip club."

"Suit yourself. I mean, I wouldn't let just any stud take my eye off the prize if I was a young, stunning rookie, either. Especially since, from what I've been seeing and hearing, you're an overnight sensation around here. The guys fucking adore you beyond compare. But that guy, now? Phew, I'd have my claws deep in his muscular biceps, and refuse to let go. Then again, I guess that's not my fucking business. In other news, Jack's been asking for you as well," the flame-haired vixen rambles on. "That's the boss, in case you already forgot. Word of advice: if he yells, don't react; it's just his short temper. He won't fire you if you let him be dominant. But anyhow, I'll see you on the floor." Completing her warning, the dancer gallops off, leaving Emma to her seclusion despite the few dancers still present, who's voices warp into warbles, mixing in with the song trumpeting through the corridor. Returning to meet her reflection, Emma takes a momentary pause, followed by a drawn out breath. Slowly then—in an attempt to relieve her qualms once more—she begins to rehearse her sensual movements, while murmuring words of reassurance to rebuild her usual confidence. She runs her hands across her dangling, diamond belly ring, up her toned, taut abdomen, through her bare, high, fruitful breasts, and into her buoyant, blonde tresses; her hair wafting a delicate aroma of vanilla as it swings through the air. Suddenly, interrupting her practice, the colleague returns once more, peeking her head into the doorway. "He's coming this way right now!"

Now startled, Emma draws her robe over her bosoms, her timing synchronized with the moment her fabled, intimidating boss swaggered into the dressing area, his heavy boots pounding against the floor like a sledgehammer.
MONTY
@Pablo
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