“Where the hell is Liza?” Loud stomps and a rageous voice echoed through the hallway into the dressing room where the strippers prepared for their show as they giggled and babbled.

“She isn't around yet, Dean.”  One of the strippers—Zoe answered as he reached the door revealing a crimson face with knitted thin brows above hooded eyes. It was actually the third time he came checking up on her.

“What?” he glanced at his watch, “Is she aware it's almost twelve?”

The room went dead.

Dean fisted his hair in devastating frustration. “Tell her to report to my office upon arrival.” his words seeping through clenched teeth was the last thing from it before he exited.

Dean, a tall muscular fair-skinned young man, was the owner of the spyce nightclub; one of the most popular private clubs in town worth a million per night. He was a single father of a ten-year-old for as long as five years after losing his wife to the cold hands of death. Perfection, time, and money was his motto.

“Oh-oh. Someone's going to be fired tonight.” Stacy said, adjusting her pink cat-eared hairband on the enormous vanity mirror.

The barbie stripper was what she was called by both the money stinking rich customers and other strippers due to her incessant touch of pink on everything she put on, her ruler figure, and perfect boobs.

“We all know he can never do that, she plays a big role in his source of income.” Zoe barked, arms crossed above her chest glaring at the bamboo who seemed to revel in annoying others.

Zoe, very much devoted to her source of daily bread, had shoulder length coal-black hair, a pair of emerald green eyes, a narrow nose, and plumped lips made up her exquisite facial features.

Liza finally arrived, though a good ten minutes late, when a furious Dean had already ordered Stacy and three other dancers to the stage out of no choice, just to keep his customers busy, but the crowd didn't seem to appreciate their efforts, she could tell from the almost quiet room. From her own imagery of the scene, the human stained room preferred ravishing their glasses of expensive whiskey and intoxicating tobacco than spare them a glance.

With a lilac knee-length leather overcoat, a pair of black flats, and her mini valise which contained her necessities, liza rushed into the dressing room which revealed to her a lifted brow above an emerald green eye. Her mouth twisted as turquoise eyes met hers.

Zoe needed not to tell her what to do, she'd been late for work twice that week, momentarily exclusive and what awaited her was a 'principal' in his office--a bloodshot 'principal'.

The last time she was late, her job was at risk but she of all people knew the self-centered sapien too well, he won't try that unless he wanted his fortune to fly away like dust before an electric fan.

“Hey, Zoe.” she greeted in between gritted teeth.

“What's happening to you lately?” she asked, concerned.

Zoe and Liza met at a friend's birthday party seven months after her dad's death, such a cool and carefree young lady. She taught her how to accept life as it came for there was a reason for everything happening in one's life. From that day, they miraculously became best of friends. She was the only one who really knew her well besides her mum and kid sisters— Lorna and Lola. Like another sister from different mothers, she cried when liza cried, rejoiced when Liza rejoiced. She even got her the job in which she was extremely good at. She didn't like it much as it wasn't a decent one but it was the only job in which she was pretty much well paid.

Before it, she had passed through being a bartender, a waitress at a restaurant, movie ticket seller, server at McDonald's just to name a few but my wages weren't up to half of what she earned there weekly.

She sighed, “Nothing Zoe...nothing really.”

“If you say so...If at all there's anything let me know ok?” Zoe tapped her shoulder before exiting.

Liza nodded and dropped her mini valise on the dressing table then rushed to Dean's office with a throbbing heart and an excessive adrenaline emitted body.

A grin spread across her face immediately she left Dean's office. Thankfully she wasn't fired. It was just a matter of her doing some talking and him doing the listening and understanding for everything to be back to normal. Reaching the dressing room, she changed into a six-inch crimson toe- free heels and hung a rabbit-eared hairband on her pastel pink hair, a little more eyeliner, blush, and bright red lipstick to crown the cake.

“You're still around,” Stacy stated with a frow at the sight of Liza in the dressing room.

She had just finished her show and it was liza's turn now. She walked into the room with her crew and stood in front of her arms crossed.

Stacy didn't like her from day one. She smelled it. It got worse when she became Dean's choice and he made her the head of the crew automatically putting her in charge of the themes, worst when she performed most of the show since she became the people's choice.

She walked past her without uttering a word which gave her more room to say what almost got liza insane. 

“Number your days little Liza. Once a queen always a queen.”

Little Liza, so she was called since she was the youngest. Going through her CV, Dean realized she was just seventeen, he stopped going through it and faced her. She knew just what was going through his psyche and it was confirmed when he told her she was too young to work at the club.

However, after a pleading struggle, he let her in.

Her first fight with Stacy occurred when she assigned to her a parrot mascot theme with the help of Zoe, if she said she hadn't laughed out her lungs that day, she would be lying.

She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and sighed, fighting the urge of pulling every single strand of her fake blonde hair and bursting her fake boobs with the heels of her shoe. Something she had failed to do during the first fight.

Liza unclenched her hands and relaxed after realizing the twig wasn't worth her time. The twig was planning something against her from the way her eyes lit up.

Her loud laughter pursued liza as she walked through the hallway to the stage.

The curtains opened with her left hand on her waist and the other holding a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs. She grinned at the cheering crowd, her presence wasn't one to go unnoticed, they liked her—for sure.  That simply made her their choice.

She began unbuttoning her lilac overcoat to the rhythm of “Partition” by Béyonce Knowles.  Finally, in just a fishnet black bra and pants, she clipped the handcuff to her pant to freely grab the pole. The crowd cheered more.

She winked at a wealthy old man, probably in his fifty's, graciously smoking his tobacco, he raised his glass of scotch at her winking in return.

She began with the Jade, which was opening her legs widely at the middle of the pole then, she switched to the rainbow, with the left leg stretched and the right leg grabbing the pole forming the figure 4, her abdomen swung downward while her left hand joined the left leg for support. She switched to the cocoon, arms only climb straddle, and finalized with the spatchcock making sure every move she made was enticing.

Descending the stage, she made her way into the crowd of cheering drunkards, adulterous bastards, and sex itchy idiots. One thing they loved about her; she didn't limit herself to the pole. Liza graciously cat walked, towards the men who were pleading on her with their eyes, her hands brushed past a young man's strong jaw with honey brown hair. She winked at him while swiftly caressing his chin.

Not tonight Mr. Lawson she thought.

She then stood before a middle-aged man, probably forty-four or so, opening her legs above his and putting both his hands on her hips, she swirled to the song with his hands just there—where she placed it. Liza's lips directed to his ear where she whispered,

“Good to see you Mr. Wilburg.”  with that she smiled and got off him but not without noticing his hard-on.

Oh yeah, basically, she knew three-quarters of the population in there, most of which were men not younger than twenty-five. Dean always warned her to focus on the aged for they were wealthier and paid well perhaps extra if treated accordingly.

Still on seductive moves, she paused before a young man around her age, from his looks, she could tell he wasn't a regular. He quivered at each step she took towards him until her heels got comfortable on the little chair space between his legs while her index finger traveled all the way down his lips from his forehead.

She almost exploded a chuckle just watching his facial expressions.

With her face two inches from his, she seductively swiped her tongue on her upper lip causing him to swallow hard.

Reaching behind his chair, she halted her left hand to his chest with the other running all the way down his silver skull imprinted belt.

Hulk's metamorphosed.

She removed her pink puffy handcuff to clip his left hand.

Something she usually performed to get her clients just where she needed them out of no choice.

“Get the keys in room 95,” she muttered yet again in his ear in a slurry tone.

"No way!!"

He said, for the millionth time in two hours comfortably seated on his black high back PU leather office chair rotating in semi circles.

His right hand decorated the chair's arm as he pinched his nose bridge in annoyance.

"Dude, listen,you need to chill a little...I mean look at you, working your *** out twenty-four, seven and almost three hundred and sixty-five, twelve Sundays exclusive. You are no different from a slave you know."

Josh, his childhood best friend recited in one breathe, seated on the other side of the large perfectly polished U-shaped mahogany office desk. He was in a grey suit and his jet black hair in a little mess which kept Marley wondering what he had been up to lately with the receptionist.

"I totally concur with Josh. You haven't been hanging out with us like before. It's closed to a year. We miss you, man."

Kennedy--Ken preferably butted in. Just like Marley he had coffee brown hair and unlike Marley he had a pretty broad chest. Ken had both hands of his shirt folded to the elbows on black pants. He was the most composed and Josh the craziest.

"No way for the millionth and one time." he deadpanned as he sighted his desk for distraction.

He totally appreciated their tricky efforts in getting his old life back for the past ten months one week to be precise; drinking to stupor, buzzing around any girl who told him 'hi' until he obtained what he wanted and much more. He had forgotten about such reckless way of existence since Amanda came into his life.

They were so much in love...or rather, he was so much in love. Now what didn't he give her?

A trip around the world? Eyeballing celebrities of her choice? jewellery, designers and car bargain had become his hubby.

Not just that, he gave her all the care and attention that a lady ever dreamt of for a year and eight months yet, she wasn't gratified!

That day finally showed up, the day she almost killed him, the day she deserted him. He was thankful to his family and friends for keeping him alive though for some reasons, he really did want to die.

She had wormed herself so deep that he couldn't see himself living a day without her.

"Look at you dude, killing and starving yourself from life's marvels just because of a girl who is probably in Peru right now with her one-year-old son and fucking her 'oh so perfect' husband every single time of the day."

Josh's voice rose making Marley flinch at his choice of words. He was right though. He created an embargo between sociality and himself since he lost Amanda.

He spent less time with friends and more time at work, the only thing he believed could divert his thoughts from Amanda.

Young, rich and handsome was a brief description of Marley Woods before he decided to become old, miserable and ugly.

He sighed and shut his laptop, kept his pen in its case and stood up, he straightened his coal black suit, glanced at his conspicuous Rolex watch on his cuffs until his brows creased.

Twenty minutes to six.

Time really waited for no one. If not of those crazy fellas of he's, he would've been home probably doing some work in his office. He walked to the door, before his right hand reached the knob he heard ken mumble,

"Man, you are lifeless."

He scoffed. "Now, hurry up you idiots, before I change my mind."

**

A club? Well, he hadn't seen that coming. He Thought they'll just walk to a local bar grab some two or three bottles of beer before heading back home--He had planned on drinking less in order to reach home in one piece--but how wrong...how very wrong.

He detested clubs, he hadn't truly been to one before but what he saw and heard about it was satisfying. He left his coat and tie in his car and decided to follow Ken's dressing code; rolled up shirt sleeves to elbow level. Josh did same and together they walked into the club.

The first thing which hit him was the pungent smell of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol and boy, he didn't like that. He swiped his finger below his nose at the awful tickling sensation it caused beneath it and to make it get used to the new smell...somehow.

The crowd and crazy light mixtures too were things he didn't like: the lights made it hard for one to make out another's face...a little mixture of blue, white, red and yellow bulbs.

A bar stood on his right with a couple of men surrounding it, sending puffs of smoke into the already contaminated air while emptying their glasses. At some end was a VIP section which contained mostly men and a dotted number of women buzzing around them. In conclusion, the club was one for men.

A stage was positioned on his left, below the stage where a couple of chairs and tables with--men...wait, a stage? It never knocked upon his knowledge of a stage in a club.

He turned to Ken who just finished discussing with a slender lady, he couldn't make out her face and was rather confused on the color of her hair and dress. Damn lights.

"Are there usually stages with poles in clubs?" Marley demanded in his ear since the music was deafening.

"Special ones."

ken smiled and nodded his head to the rhythm of the song currently playing.

Everyone in there had the wealthy look on their faces--he knew that because he mostly mingled with such people almost all his life and that made him guess the club was a private one and confirming it with the prices of drinks, unlike those in the local bars. The less privileged couldn't afford for even a can of beer which was the cheapest beverage in there.

The more he drank the less sober he got, he promised himself not to consume so much but Josh and Ken weren't helping him stick to it so he decided to push the damn promise at the back of his mind, besides the day was a special one. The day he would break the walls of loneliness and madness over Amanda once and for all.

After what seemed like an hour, three girls appeared on stage half-*****; fancy lacy bras and pants with just ****** pads shading their tits, the one in the middle had blonde hair and cat-eared hairband above it while the other two had butterfly antenna hairbands.

They began dancing and taking off their clothes. Well now, he expected a crazy going crowd but to his surprise, they weren't really smitten by the girls striptease. He could tell they were just watching them to feed their eyes.

Marley on the other hand, well, they weren't very much sexy even when they weren't in clothes. Hadn't seen any of those in over a year since Ama...

Jesus, snap out of even her name.

Since his ex deprived him of nudes two months before their end. He thought the little boy was going to be awake on seeing the girls demonstrating on stage, to his greatest surprise it didn't budge.

I just hope it's still alive.

Marley sighed and glanced at his watch with squinted eyes. Damn lights! They were straining his eyes yet again but he managed to figure out the digits anyway.

Thirty minutes into midnight. It read.

Drinking had gotten boring, the entertainment wasn't helping matters either. All in all, he crowned the club a no go zone.

"I ought to get out of here," he whispered to Josh who was being entertained with a bimbo on his legs.

"Man, chill, we haven't even dropped into the real thing,"

Again, Marley sunk into his chair and gulped more glasses of vodka. His head had begun to throb and his eyes droopy. Some seconds or so after the strippers departure, came this lady in a lilac overcoat, extremely high red heels and pastel pink hair. Unlike the prior girls, she had a rabbit-eared hairband and in hand a pair of handcuffs.

He was taken aback by the sudden outburst from the crowd, some cheered while others whistled.

She removed her overcoat when the music began, exposing a black pair of bra and pants.

Shapy.

She smiled back to the crowd after cuffing her pants with a pair of fluffy cuffs before holding the pole. She did some mind-blowing flips and turns on the pole. Truth be told he was aghast.

Acrobatic.

She did it with passion like her life depended on it and he liked that. The worth melting smile she revealed was dashing. Damn, she's sexy. Now he could see why she was loved.

She got down the stage into the crowd, her waist gently swirling to the rhythm of the song. She walked past a young a man slightly older than he was caressing his chin, still with the same gracious moves, she stood before a huge man, grabbed his hands and rested them on her hips. He watched her intently as she bent over him whispering god knows what into his ear.

Teasing.

He swore, his heart stopped beating for a split second when she graciously walked towards him, his body went numb and he began to quiver. He supposed he died when she put her heels on the little chair space between his legs, her slender index finger traveled from his forehead down to his lips. He probably resurrected when she walked behind him and slipped her hands down his chest straight to his groin.

His heart began beating frantically.

No girl ever made him hard since Ama... Well, since his ex left, probably because he didn't mingle and never let any girl get an inch closer to him...but this one? Damn! She just blew off his boy.

The next thing he realized was her pink fluffy handcuffs circling his left hand and a melodious voice whispering into his ear,

"Get the keys in room 95."

With that, she winked and retreated.

Zaphrina stared at her reflection in the giant restroom mirror, eyes focused on a completely different image the mirror reflected of her. What she saw was a depressed and frustrated version. She realized the unwanted masks showed up from the latter event.

That wasn't a life she was living anymore, it was more of a hellhole. Her eyes slowly teared up both as a result of an unblinking stare and reminiscent of her life.

Zaphrina fought to stop herself from breaking down but her emotions got the best of her and her lips convulsed resulting in a pair of colorless warm liquid run down her chestnut cheeks.

She sniffed a couple of times, dabbed the almost dried and cold tears off her face only to give more room to fresh and warmer teardrops.

As time elapsed, Zaphrina knew more than just sulk in a restroom all day.

What more could make her feel better on an awful Saturday morning but a hot cup of coffee, the only beverage worth comparing to an analgesic, a stimulant, and which would clear her mind at that point in time.

Zaphrina exited the restroom for her favorite coffee shop at barely five minutes walk from the spyce building, not wanting to talk over a cup of coffee with her ancestors, she quickly delved her handbag for her phone while walking down the lobby. She thought about her closest friend, Carmen, who was the only person she could think of to pour her transgressions and the only person who could offer her a listening ear.

Gloss?...eye contact?...comb?...nail polish?... Just where is that damn phone?!

Finally in the hold of the rectangular piece of gadget...and in contact with a hard surface, hard enough to have the contents of her bag falling in all directions.

"Sorry," she quickly muttered with sobriety whilst helter-skeltering her belongings into her bag not looking up at the owner of the hard surface she had just bumped into.

"Watch it next time will you?" the voice hovered over her.

Furiousness getting the best of her already chafed feeling, Zaphrina elevated her glare to see an irritated face frowning at her direction.

Handsome he was, Coffee brown and hazel defined his touseled fringes and tired eyes respectively.

His body screamed wealth even in a crumpled cotton button-down shirt. If she wasn't caught up in one of the worst situations of her life, she would've unconsciously been drooling over him, though he totally wasn't her kind of man in personality.

"Excuse me? You watch it next time." She fired back regretting the stupid act of courtesy she had just exhibited to the uncivilized piece of creature.

She zipped her bag and rushed for the exit deterring the urge to do or say something crazy to him.

"Are you offering me these contacts? I think you need it more than I do."

She heard the voice which had managed to give her an irritating first impression say behind her, with closed eyes and gentle breaths--breaths she had been trying to control for quite a while in order not to practically shatter out of insanity- she tried as much as possible to control the rising temper within her. This man didn't only have a courtesy deficiency, brains and respect added to it too.

She pivoted on her white pair of trainers which squeaked on the polished wooden lobby floor she had come to loathe more than anything else, took snappy steps towards the deficient stranger and snatched her contact case away from his perfectly manicured fingers with a growl.

"Remind me to stab you when next you cross my path." she hissed.

"Is that the way you thank someone who just saved your life?" he quizzed with a mocking chuckle.

She stopped once more at his sarcasm. "Believe me, you've done worse than save my life." she spat between clenched teeth before exiting.

Great!!! Just what she needed to make her day gloomier than it already was as if she hadn't enough in seven hours, the worst hours of her life she must add. She shoved her hand in her bag for her phone once more, careful this time not to bump onto the next nincompoop.

Zaphrina fell on answering machine several times before the parading image of her friend drowning in her bed halted in her mind. She let out a sigh of disappointment and decided to head home.

***

Marley arrived home exhausted, ready not to entertain the nearest form of distraction which came his way while he walked to his room.

"Where are you from?" the familiar voice questioned when he was about thanking the gods for an almost save and distraction-free trip.

He cleared his sandy throat, "From the office," he answered.

Louisa, the family Benjamin leaned forward scrutinizing his messed up entirety. Knowing her too well, he knew she wouldn't let him go until she got what she wanted from him.

"Liar! There are lipstick smudges on your shirt and you smell of..."

He shushed her with a hand above her mouth before it was too late.

"You're not gonna tell her are you?"

He felt a grin spread across her lips from beneath his palm. It wasn't going to be good news streaming out of her mouth once he relieved his palms off of it, but he let go anyways,

"On one tiny condition."

He sighed, "What do you want, Louisa?"

"I want your car for a week. I'm talking about the latest car you bought."

"Oh no! Not that one Louisa, you can get the-"

"Fine then, Muuu..." his hands clasped her lips again.

"Fine, Crazy brat, here are the keys." he fished the keys from his pant pocket and dangled it before her.

Louisa flashed her thirty twos in a grin, gladly reached for her brother's cheeks for a peck after grabbing the bunch consisting of three silver keys but stopped midway.

"Urgh com'n go get a shower." she grimaced, looking disgusted.

"Return it scratch-free," he yelled to the retreating figure of his ginger haired sister.

With an immaculate white MW marked towel firmly engulfing his waist, Marley stood in the middle of his professionally decorated room left hand on his hip reminiscing the previous night and the early morning event. His right hand reached for his wet hair gently shoving it backward letting the warm water dripping out of it do same in the opposite direction.

He let out a series of curses, hit, and kicked the wall, but neither of those made him feel any better.

Maybe it was just a dream, he thought but he remembered collecting the check he had written to her last night, to confirm it, he ran to the hip of dresses on his neatly vacuumed gunmetal blue woolen carpet, dug into his pocket for the check and there it was, between his fingers with the sum of money he had written and his signature on it.

Had she forgotten to collect it or had she purposely left it? He sighed and plopped on his bed. Eyes staring at the chandelier and mind reminiscing every move he did with the pink-haired stripper, her tantalizing body, the flame she ignited in him, one he never knew existed for the past years. Her hands over his body fitted right in.

He suddenly realized himself wanting to see her, not just once nor twice but as often as he lived, but why was this so? Someone he barely knew. He let out another heavy sigh then his mind drifted to the chestnut skin-toned lady he bumped into earlier that day.

He didn't know why, but something in him-for the first time in his existence- found her banality intriguing.