The Velvet Room

Neon Night

The morning sun streams through Malia's window, casting a warm glow over her room. She stretches, a smile playing on her lips as she replays the previous night in her head. Grabbing her phone, she types out a quick message to the guy she met, her fingers dancing across the screen. "Hey! I had a great time meeting you last night. We should grab lunch sometime." She hits send, a flutter of anticipation in her chest, and sets about starting her day, already looking forward to what might come next.

Malia finds plenty to do during the day but keeps checking her phone to see if the man she met at the club last night has responded. It shows it’s delivered but he hasn’t read it yet. She thinks maybe he busy so she decides to be patient.

It’s time to start her night, Malia struts into the club, the scent of stale beer and anticipation already thick in the air. Her eyes immediately lock onto Zach, who's leaning against the entrance, arms crossed, a stoic sentinel. "Hey, Zach," she purrs, sauntering over. "Another night, another dollar, right?" She gives him a playful nudge, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Zach's gaze flickers over her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Something like that, Malia. Try not to cause too much trouble tonight," he says, his voice a low rumble. Malia laughs, a throaty sound that bounces off the walls. "Trouble? Me? Never," she teases, but there's a glint in her eyes that suggests otherwise. She knows how to work a crowd, and she's not afraid to use it.

"See you around, Zach," she says with a wink, turning towards the dressing room. As she walks away, she can feel his eyes on her, a silent acknowledgment of the game they're both playing. Little does she know, Zach's gaze lingers not on her retreating figure, but drifts towards the door, where he imagines a certain raven-haired dancer will soon appear. The night is young, and the stakes are already high.

Zach leaned back against the cool brick wall, the bass from the music vibrating through him. He watched Thomas walk in, all polished shoes and easy smiles, and a familiar pang of jealousy twisted in his gut. "Maybe it's time to face facts," he muttered to himself, the words laced with a bitterness he couldn't quite swallow.

He was lost in his thoughts, picturing a life where Robin was just a memory, when the lights dimmed and the music shifted, pulling him back to the present. Then she appeared. Robin stepped onto the stage, bathed in a spotlight that turned her skin to gold. Tonight, she was a showgirl, feathers and sequins catching the light with every movement. It was like watching a goddess descend, and Zach felt his breath catch in his throat.

Gone was the girl he knew, replaced by a performer who commanded attention with every flick of her wrist, every sway of her hips. She moved with a confidence that was both alluring and intimidating, a queen ruling her kingdom. Zach knew, in that moment, that moving on wouldn't be as easy as he thought. He was hopelessly drawn to her, a moth to a flame, and he knew, deep down, that he'd keep getting burned as long as she was in his orbit.

Robin's heels clicked on the worn floor as she descended from the stage, the smoky air swirling around her. She moved with a dancer's grace, her exposed breast a statement of confidence rather than vulnerability. A man, reeking of cheap cologne and desperation, caught her eye. "Lap dance?" he slurred, waving a wad of cash. Robin smirked, taking his hand and leading him to the back, where the music was a muffled thump and the shadows danced with secrets.

As she began her routine, the man launched into a monologue about his importance. "I'm a big shot in finance, baby," he bragged, his eyes glazed. "I work for the guy who owns this place, you know." Robin's ears perked up, though she kept her expression neutral. "He's planning a visit this week," the man continued, puffing out his chest. "And let me tell you, he'd really like you, if you catch my drift."

Robin barely batted an eyelash at the man's revelation. She'd danced for CEOs, politicians, and every flavor of "important" in between. The owner of the club was just another name, another face in the crowd. "Is that so?" she purred, her voice a low hum against his ear. "Well, every boss needs a little fun, right?" She kept her movements fluid, her touch light but suggestive, expertly playing the role he expected.

As the dance neared its end, she leaned in close, her breath ghosting over his skin. "You seem like a smart man," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "When you come back, remember to take good care of me. A girl like me deserves the best." She straightened up, a playful smile on her lips, leaving him flushed and flustered. As she walked away, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd just set something in motion, a ripple that could either elevate her or drown her. Only time would tell. Back in the dressing room, Robin reapplied her lipstick, the news about the club owner already fading into the background noise of her day. Spotting Malia preparing for her set, she couldn't resist sharing the tidbit. "Heard the big boss is coming to visit this week," she said casually, fluffing her hair in the mirror. "Wonder what kind of man he is?"

Malia's heart skipped a beat, a cold dread washing over her. Her father, the city's most notorious gangster, owned this club, a fact she'd kept hidden from him as she secretly plotted her revenge. The thought of him walking through those doors, potentially recognizing her, sent a shiver down her spine. She forced a smile, trying to mask her panic. "Oh, really?" she said, her voice a little too high. "Well, as long as he tips well, right?" Inside, her mind was racing, desperately trying to figure out what she would do if her secret was exposed. Would she run? Would she confront him? Or would her carefully laid plans crumble before her very eyes?

Malia managed a shaky smile, grabbing her stage outfit with trembling hands. "Gotta go," she mumbled, sidestepping Robin and hurrying towards the stage. The music was already pumping, the bass vibrating through her bones, but tonight, it did little to calm her nerves. As she stepped into the spotlight, she scanned the faces in the crowd, each one a potential threat. Was her father already here? Did he know? She forced herself to focus on her routine, each movement precise and calculated, a mask to hide the turmoil within.

Meanwhile, Robin watched Malia's hurried exit with a raised eyebrow. Something was clearly off. She'd known Malia for a while now, and she'd never seen her this flustered. The news about the owner couldn't possibly be the only reason for her distress. Curiosity piqued, Robin decided to do a little digging. She had a knack for uncovering secrets, and something told her that Malia was hiding something big.

Later that night, as the club began to empty, Robin casually approached the bartender, slipping him a twenty. "Hey, Danny," she said, leaning against the bar. "You know anything about the owner coming to town? Heard any whispers?" Danny, always eager for a tip, leaned in conspiratorially. "Just that he's a real shark," he said, wiping down the counter. "And that he doesn't like surprises." Robin's eyes narrowed. "Surprises, huh? Interesting." She thanked Danny and headed towards the dressing room, a plan forming in her mind. Whatever Malia was hiding, Robin was determined to find out, and she had a feeling it was about to turn the club upside down.