The bright stage lights blinded her, the music almost deafening, but she moved gracefully with her head thrown back and her spine arched as she hung freely from the pole. Little by little, articles of her already skimpy costume are shed and she's left in only her jeweled thong and clear heels by the time she makes her way down. Her smooth descent from the highest point slows to a stop and her experienced legs unwind from the pole and spread into a full split as she landed.

Patrons cheered and called to her, some of them saying the most obscene things as they threw their hard-earned cash in her direction. Through her lashes, she spots the piles of dead presidents pooling around her, and it's enough to motivate her to really give them a show. Her long hair fans out over her back and shoulders as she rolled her body, twisting and turning. Bouncing her ass to the sinuous beat. Picking random men and women nearest to the stage to taunt with her curves. Giving her all as they gave her their last. She was like a queen in a sinner's paradise.

Eventually, her chosen song comes to a close and so does her performance. After allowing a woman to tuck a few $20 bills into the jeweled string at her hip, she rises to walk towards the pole.

Throwing very practiced lustful gazes at those whose faces she would soon forget, Deja, ends her time on stage with a sensual pose at the center as the lights went dim.

"Alright Alright...Everybody give it up for Deja Fire!" The DJ's voice dialed up in volume as the darkness was filled with deafening applause. Deja doesn't move as she waits for her song to change and the playlist they roll between main dances prompts her to breathe evenly for the first time in minutes.

She breaks her pose and lowers her head, the fierceness in her hazel eyes fading as she went to collect her tips, snatching her matching jeweled bra as she went. The rest that she was unable to collect would be gathered for her to count later by club staff.

As ironic as it sounds, this was the part she hated the most. Taking her clothes off in front of strangers came second to feeling like a scavenger. But this was the life she chose so the distaste quickly dissipates with every handful of dirty money.

Deja wasn't at all the shy type.

The exact opposite in fact.

Growing up in the south, she loved to create it any way her little hands would allow. Poems. Songs. Sketches.

Dance was just something that she found to come easily to her as she developed.

From puberty, she was blessed with fruitful curves and perfectly smooth brown skin. Thick, long natural hair and eyes the color of scorching sugar. She was the envy of many, even her own mother.

Living with her in her teens was rough and they clashed daily. She was only 16 when her mother burst into her room, eyes red and glazed from the swishing bottle tightly grasped in her hand.

"You think you're better than me?"

"You think you're grown?"

"You think you're that bitch now because these men wanna fuck you?"

"Well go and be that bitch! But not in my fucking house!"

It had been over 8 years since she'd heard her voice, the toxicity of her tone still burning through her veins like venom. The upstanding Christian woman with the drinking habit who couldn't bear having a daughter that every man in town wanted. She grew so resentful of the stares and whispers about her daughter in passing that there was a time when the only way Deja was permitted to leave the house was for church and school.

Living with her felt like prison.

She didn't even have a reputation. She was nothing like what her mother and half the town assumed. But after being forced onto the streets so young, Deja found her way into a life she never imagined.

Never seeing nor speaking to her mother or anyone from that town since.

The chatty atmosphere of the dressing room is tuned out effectively by the soothing sounds of Nina Simone's soulful voice. "Black Bird" was often her cool down song of choice after gracing the stage, finding a melancholic comfort in its lyrics.

Deja draws in a breath as she looked at herself in the mirror of her vanity, adjusting her earbuds volume as she assessed her appearance.

Time was kind to her, even though she was still very young, she felt aged beyond her years. Other dancers bustled and buzzed around her, coming and going. Some of them half naked and confidently flouncing flat tummies and perky breasts adorned with colorful pasties. Others seemed to have just arrived on their street clothes and bare faces. Primping and priming. All to prepare themselves for another evening of objectification.

Since being new to the city and the club after less than a year, Deja did well in being friendly amongst most of the while also keeping her distance from those she felt any hints of distaste towards her from.

Just then, a woman adorned in expensive lingerie strolls past her mirror, turning her nose up at the new fan favorite in mild disgust. Deja smirked at the womans bothered expression, rolling her eyes before continuing to touch up her face.

Jealousy wasn't uncommon here since every their pay solely depended on how attractive you were. And when you were effortlessly captivating, you were bound to make a couple of enemies.

But none it phased her. She was used to being resented over something she couldn't change. Perhaps her mother prepared her for this.

"You think you're better than me?"

The bitter old woman haunted her every time she looked at herself. Mainly due to the resemblance.

Every time she had a moment of clarity, where she actually considered where she was and what she was doing.

"Your looks can only get you so far little girl..."

Let's see...

Bills paid. A roof over her head. No man dangling her security over in front of her face like a doggy bone. A hefty savings and overall comfortable life. She smirks at the mirror before tuning out the curses of her mother, tucking a lock of bone-straight hair behind her diamond-studded ear.

After finishing touching up her make-up and changing into a less flashy but equally sexy white two-piece set, Deja exits the dressing room to re-enter the main floor of Pulse.

She does her usual rounds, flirting with other dancers, and offering dances to patrons who stared a little too long as she passed them. After a while, Deja's feet were starting to go numb from her stilettos and she takes that as a sign to give them a second of rest.

One of the few bars was nearby and her favorite bartenders was in her cut-up crop top, dancing happily as she mixed drinks like a pro.

Crystal is shaking up a drink just as Deja approaches, leaning against the bar. She rests her elbows over the surface, putting her barely covered ass on display for anyone strolling by behind her. She doesn't care though since she was used to the stares.

Hell, she was too tired to care anyway.

"Hey Baby!" Crystal yells over the music, batting her dramatic lashes and flipping her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. Deja gives her a weak smile in greeting.

"Hey Gorgeous.." she mouths. Crystal finishes the drink she was preparing, pouring it in the salt-rimmed martini glass and passing it to the waiting customer with a practiced smile. She quickly wipes her hands on the small hand towel tucked in her apron and resumes her attention on her favorite dancer.

"You on a break?" she asks and Deja shrugs with a half-hearted smirk.

"Something like that. Could use a lil pick me up though... Pour me a shot?" she asks, lifting her brows hopefully. Crystal nods at her promptly.

"I gotcha, hold on.." she winks.

Crystal's blonde ponytail whips as she turned away to prepare something for Deja and she sighs with contentment. A shot of anything would do her wonders right now. While it wasnt encouraged for dancers to imbibe when working, it happened and it sometimes made it easier to get through the night.

As long as you knew your limit.

Something about tonight was off-putting. The weather perhaps? The fact that it was her last shift for the week? She didn't know. Something odd seemed to loom through the air, casting a vibe telling that something weird was going to happen tonight.

And usually when Deja had a hunch or a bad feeling, she was right.

Even when she tried to ignore it.

The DJ scratches and the music changes to something more sultry and befitting of Deja's mood, making her bob her head appreciatively. Crystal passes her a drink with a quick smile and scurries off to the other end of the bar to tend to other approaching patrons.

Deja reaches for the glass and lifts it to her mouth as her gaze travels down the bar mindlessly, already buzzing from the scent of the liquor alone.

As she took a sip of the cold clear beverage, something catches her eye.

Or someone...

Several feet away and seated on one of the cushioned seats that lined the back walls of the club was a man dressed in dark clothing. The shadows cast in that corner made it hard for Deja to see his face, only noting the fair shade of his tattooed hand that rested on the table in front of him.

His fingers traced the rim of the short-cut glass in front of him, circling it sensually slow. Deja can't shake the feeling that he was watching her and normally, she'd either be unimpressed or weirded out.

But this time, even from the shadows, she felt trapped in this stranger's gaze.

It made her feel warm.

It made her feel....curious.

After silently watching from the distance, the man shifts in his seat to lean forward just enough for the club lights to cast a slight glow against his profile.

He was young, sharp-jawed with piercings adorning his lip and brow. A stripe of hair that absorbed the red tones of the club lighting hung over his forehead and he lifted his head in acknowledgment of her.

Deja hadn't realized how hard she was staring until she caught him smirking and she swallows down the heat collecting in her chest as he grabbed hold of his drink.

He keeps his eyes on her as his adam's apple bobbed with his swallow, pulling the cup from his mouth, and sucking the thin sheen of alcohol from his bottom lip.

"Damn...." says to herself, furrowing her brow as the line of the stranger's pierced lip perk up in a knowing smirk.

The loudness around her comes rushing in as he leans back into the shadows, leaving only his hand over his glass in view, going back to tracing the rim. Still and relaxed. Unphased by the flashing lights and blaring music. Not even the occasional half-naked woman strolling past him. Some would stop to see if he needed anything or wanted a dance, and every time he would decline.

None of them seemed to be his flavor.

Perhaps..

"Dee Dee!!"

Crystal's voice pulls her from the trance she had no idea she was in and she follows the line of Deja's pointed gaze with a curious brow.

"Huh?" Deja frowns but soon comes fully into the now when a new glass is placed in front of her. Her glass from before was now empty. Her eyes widen slightly at the discovery, not even realizing she'd finished it.

"Well damn...Thirsty much.." Crystal teases as she reached for the empty glass. Deja frowns down at it as Crystal placed it below the bar.

"What's got you all eagle-eyed girl? Someone out there that owes you money?" She asks, following the trail of her former gaze and only seeing dancers and their pleasantly distracted patrons. That's when Deja noticed that the man from before was gone, no longer holding up the shadowed corner with his drink and heated stare.

The invisible tug in her chest ached slightly at the discovery, a questionable sensation for her that she has to mentally shake off. As she suspected, the overall vibe tonight was just...off.

In acceptance of that fact, Deja releases a long resigned sigh before reaching for the newly poured drink Crystal set before her. She tosses it back and grimaces at the burn of the alcohol. 

"You might wanna make yiur next drink water...dont you have to go on stage again later?" Crystal notes in concern, and Deja smiles.

"Look at you, worrying about me. Thanks, C. Ima get back to it. I'll check you later ..." she says, setting the empty glass down and turning away before she could respond.

With the tequila warming her body, Deja walks confidently in the direction of where the shadowed man was seated. She can somehow feel the heat of his gaze still on her, hot and focused despite him not being there.

Its slightly unsettling.

And attractive.

A small pout pulls at her bottom lip at his absence, her curiosity being the only reason for her interest. She hums to herself thoughtfully as she turns away, going about her business. Completely unaware of that darkened gaze still that followed her every move, from a vantage point she couldnt see as she fell back into the crowd.

The night prevails and Deja coasts through her shift like she would any other night.

Gracing the stage again with another dancer.

Entertaining a group of drunk young bachelors with a few other dancers.

Body shots and lap dances.

Flagging security when an old perv gets too handsy with one of the girls in her section.

Teasing the bottle girls happily by dancing on them or patting them on the booty as they bend over to serve customers.

Typical night.

The heat in the air was almost suffocating in the VIP lounge. A storm of single bills fluttering around her and she moves on autopilot to the beat.

She wasn't drunk but she most definitely felt the last few shots getting to her. Her balance isn't as sharp as it usually is and she has to sturdy herself on the pole a few times without anyone in the room noticing. Her brow crinkles after the third time stumbling and she ultimately decides it was time to get her ass back to sturdy ground. Without warning, Deja walks towards the few short steps that lead from the tabletop to the floor.

"Girl where you going?"  Chanel, the outrageously voluptuous Puerto Rican vixen in a fire red g-string frowns as her heels land on the thickly paned glass surface of the table. The dip of her spine is pressed against the pole that was bolted to the ceiling and her bare breasts casually bounced to the music when her partner in the VIP section for the night begins stepping over the legs of distracted men holding cash.

"I need some air.." Deja yells when she's finally free of the masculine clutter, slapping at a rogue hand that attempts to graze up her thigh. 

"You got one more time bro...." Diesel, one of the members of security says from the door, earning a gracious smirk from Deja as she scurried past him.

"If I'm not back in 2 minutes, you can keep my share..." she calls over her shoulder, having not been in there long enough to make enough to stay.

Chanel raised her brow in surprise, looking down at the ocean of cash at her feet and shooting Diesel a look before shrugging.

"Ok, Mami..." Chanel responds, smacking her gum and smiling down at the inebriated gazes that were now all on her.

"Welp...looks like it's just us for a few seconds fellas....if you wanna see more ass, I wanna see more cash...."