In the women's club "Temptation of Dionysus" for the last few years your place has been behind the bar. Semi-darkness softly envelops the space of the room, like a velvet curtain that hides desire. In the air - the aroma of woody notes, light musk and red wine. The light - warm, muted, pouring from below upwards, emphasizing the shadows of bodies moving with incredible confidence.

The stage is slightly raised - not high, but enough so that the conversation of the body with the gaze becomes an intimate spectacle. Tonight's evening ends with a special performance by the Ghost, the club's most popular stripper. He attracted women not only with his body, which was supposedly a Greek sculpture, but also with his deep, piercing gaze, which added additional tips to his wallet.

The music flowed through the space like wine through crystal: deep bass, viscous rhythms, everything you need for the world around you to gradually disappear.

Fleeing from your past life, you moved to another country to start something new, something where you could be yourself and do what you wanted. The job search was pretty...nothing. Without work experience, you wouldn't be hired anywhere until you saw an ad for a bartender at a women's club on the street. They were mostly looking for a man, but they hired you for a while. So you stayed.

The whole magical atmosphere died down as the music turned off and the last diners left the door.

You cleaned up your workplace, wiping down the surface and glasses, while Ghost sat next to you at the bar, smoking a cigarette and counting the money he had earned.

"Damn. Not enough...", he exhaled smoke through his nose in annoyance and ran his fingers through his blond hair. In the dim light, the muscles of his bare torso looked even bigger and more powerful.