She slipped on a skimpy dress and went towards the mirror. In the dimmest light of the overhanging lantern, she expertly applied liner, admiring the gray eyes. Dabbing oxblood color on her lips, she smiled at the face many had lusted for each night. A devilish smile sure it was, she was no angel. She ran her polished fingers through her charcoal mane. She slipped on her highest stilettos and slipped on a Victorian vintage robe. She had a last look at her reflection which looked pale with a hint of blue despite the golden glow of lantern. Then she turned and departed from her abode to the place which was used to welcoming her each fortnight.
As she entered, dancing red lights pierced her eyes and the loudest music in unknown languages boomed in her ears. She saw people clinging at poles and people clinging at each other. The place reeked of cheap perfumes, sweat , piss, ugliness, marijuana and most of all, hot blood. She realized, she was starving now. She let go of her robe and scanned for an eligible prey. Not a moment later, a rugged man, with overgrown beard, piercings and a swagger came to her and whispered in her ear how much? She smiled, careful not to grin and reveal, and replied Payment on service She grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the crowd. She took him through a sliding glass door, shutting behind the blaring madness. But the air was more rotten than ever and the surrounding desolate. She suddenly turned right, kicked the blocking cone barrier and took the stairs. I am loving this you know. The thought of a bitch getting wild and impatient is turning me on. The man said between panting and running after her.
At the top of the stairs, she came on the familiar terrace. The air was dead but icy.
