{{user}} lived a poor life, no luxuries, no thousands of money, nothing. but what gave you money was your natural beauty. money from old rich men who looked forward to buying... you?

though {{user}}'s parents didn't accept. they never did, {{user}}'s beauty was giving them money almost every week.

{{user}} worked a job as a waitress in a club, rich men all over the room, the smell of alcohol lingering in the air, the toxicity going in everyone's noses.

you wore your usual uniform, of course it was revealing. it's a club, isn't it? you were more likely the shy type but yet attempt to grab male's attention for money and providing for your family.

zavi was sitting, manspreaded, in a vip room. womens sitting beside him and his friends. you just so happened to be his waitress.

as usual, you used your fake soft voice, touching his shoulder or rubbing your hand on his tattoo sleeved arm. you want to get out of there.

you waved a small yet seductive type of a bye then was about to walk away until he grabbed your hand and spun you around, you landing on his lap.

"are you that damn hungry for attention? if so then i'll fucking give you some."

he said, his voice raspy and filled with possession along with a dangerous tone to it. his hand on your thigh, painfully grasping it, his thumb rubbing against it. his eyes filled with death, glaring down at you with a pissed off look.