Time really doesn't matter to someone like Bridget, someone who doesn't see the world, not even through a pane of glass. Moving from the apartment complex to the Sin Bin is done through internal access and, at best, she'll see a crack of light under a door when moving from one location to another. But its night now and she can tell that by the influx of clients that come through the public area downstairs, and by the number of women (and few men) that are in the back rooms, waiting to be on show, changing costumes, constantly moving in and out of various areas. Elly, one of the workers here, is a gorgeous little thing. She's got tanned skin, large eyes, and moves like no one else here - not through her dancing, but just by the way she moves, it's effortless, like she has muscles in places people don't. They haven't spoken much, but now, this woman who is roughly Bridget's age, sticks her head in the change room. "Strawberry Sweets. Your turn in the table booth." A private dance.

*She stands after setting the last pin in her hair and moves with calculated steps, timidly asking* Do we know what the client is looking for? Or do they just want the regualre?

"Just a regular. But if you can get more out of him, make sure he pays up first." Elly says, wearing next to nothing but leather shorts and both ankle and wrist cuffs. "Nothing's free down here." With a quirky little smile she gives a little shrug and wanders off to her own area again. The boss often uses her as a little messenger, obviously being one of his favourites (which isn't necessarily a good thing, as his favourites don't take care of regulars at all).  By now Bridget knows her way around the lower half, at least to the places she has access, there's still area's here that is restricted even for some of the staff.

*She adjusts the silk bra to give her large boosem ampel clevege, black silk gloves smooth over her satin hips as she readys herself for yet another sweaty, gruting pervert, but, this is life, all she's ever known. She makes her way to the private booth, her heels clicking softly with each step, anouncing her arival, she slips past the curtain and looks down at her customer, her red ringlets fall about her shoulders*

Behind the curtain is the door and through that is the room itself. There's always security around, on camera, outside doors, just a buzzer away. They look after their staff here, or at least get the customer to pay up for extra damages. The room is naturally dark, with only a few highlights to show off enough and all of it on the table. There's enough space on the circular sofa to fit four men, at least, but there's only one. He's in his early thirties, enough to have some laugh (or worry) lines etched in his face. Average. Fit enough to look like every other healthy male his age, and dressed in slacks and a shirt. His jacket is lying over the back of the sofa. He's unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt when she walks in and his gaze follows her.

*She smiles to him, all timidness gone, she is the sexy, strong woman most of these men crave. Her hips sway with each slow step as she moves to him, her eyes look smokey in this light, they roam over him as if she thought he was the most wonderful looking man she's ever seen* Mmm, Good evening darling *Her high heeled foot rises and rests on the couch next to him, she leans over, one hand moves to caress her finger tips along his jaw line* You're looking fine tonight, I hear you looking for a good time, I hope you have the money for it *She gives a half smile, her other hand smooths over her black silk thigh high stocking over her inner thigh*


"I've booked you for half hour. I've already paid." Says the man in a quiet but level voice. That she brought up money had him a little turned off. It didn't speak of much class, but then, look at the place he's in. Resting back against the sofa, with one arm along its edge, he looked from her hand on her thigh, slowly up what she was wearing and to take in the expression on her face.

I'm afraid i've been told other wise *Her expression never changes, she looks full of lust and ready to pounce on him at moment, as if the very fact that she's forced to bring up money before she can begin is almost painful to her. She reaches down and takes his hand by the wrist, placing it on her knee, so long as he's a good oy she'll allow him to touch all he wants. She is garbed in a tight black silk bodice and matching black panties, with her bent over like this he can see her breasts heaving and straining against the silk* I can check though, I'm sorry..

He lets out a breath and pulls his hand back, taking his hand from her. "That's all." So that he doesn't come into contact with her, he shifts around the sofa and gets out the -other- side. "I'm done here." He says, knocking on the door. "I'm done." He fetches his jacket without so much looking at her. Its obvious he's not pleased by being told that he hasn't paid, when, in fact, he has.

My...that's too bad *She leans on the back of the couch, bitting her lower lip, her legs spread slowly, in a place like this she is quite classy, though still quite sexy, her voice lowers, as do her eyes* I did so hope to entertain someone who wasn't a dog...please...come back and let me dance for you, I was only doing what my manager told me to do...*She gives him a small pout, while deep down inside she feels a horrible fear of the punishment she'll recieve if she displeases a customer*

"Even more reason for me to speak with the Manager. I paid for a full half hour, and I get told by the girl here to entertain me that I've not? I don't think so. I'm not in the mood." With his jacket in hand, he opened the door and closed it behind him, leaving her behind. There's brief words outside, though she can't hear them, and the man is gone. It won't be long after that one of the security guards sticks his head in, "Boss says into the cube with you." Back to that hot cubical without any contact, dancing and stripping for men jacking into tissues. What happens after that, who knows..

*She winces and sinks down a little, she's sure to get punished now, after a moment of composing herself she leaves the room, looks worridly to the guard men, shakes her head and makes her way to the cube, trying to gulp down her tears*

Needless to say, the man who had paid handsomely for his half an hour, was less then ten minutes in the booth that had promised him a private dancer, and wasn't very impressed when he exited it.

Asking to speak with the manager, keeping rather cool and collected about it, after all he is a high rolling business man and this was meant to be a simple business deal. Money for the goods had already exchanged hands, and he'd been told, by his purchase no less, that he hadn't paid up.

Preston, is his name, wanted to make sure that there wasn't any misunderstandings. No-one, no-one, likes to be corrected and certainly not by someone that does what people here do for a living.

I would pass Bridget on her way to the box; I dont berate her in the hallways, the box will be punishment enough. She will earn a sneer and a gagging hiss from my collapsed nostrils. Some of these girls are more trouble than they are worth. I dont like giving refunds or losing customers because these whores never passed the third grade. It sours my mood.

'Preston my good man.'

I rasp, inspecting my black fingernails. My gnarly face is mostly concealed with a shiny black bandanna. Like a fetish rendition of a wild west train robbers disguise. My sunken eyes glare in the dim lighting.

'Youll have to excuse Bridget. Shes a little slow. I will arrange another dancer for you and double your time...'

These are words I hate saying. Bridget will be making up for the lost time one way or another.

'... on the house.'

*She flinches visibly at the hiss and mouths a very sorrowful "I'm so sorry" Eyes plead for the moment they pass each other, then fall to the floor as she continues on to the box, at least the smelly ones won't be able to come close to her and she can escape easier into her imagination while in the small room. Not that she would ever tell anyone, but this isn't much of a punishment for her, she doesn't see the men, and only needs to listen to their barked commands every once in a while, and if she dances well enough they usually keep pretty quiet. Though the fear of what she's done pales her already creamy skin, a look of utter failure can be seen on her face as she moves through the winding "behind the scenes" area, she pays no one else a look*