The flashing lights are blinding and the atmosphere is intoxicating, filled with illicit substances that the patrons over indulge in.

Dancing has always been your lifeline. Literally.

The stage has become your world and your performance the only thing keeping you surviving through most days.

It's your own kind of unhealthy indulgence, selling your promiscuity and services for any man to avail — a last effort at keeping yourself alive.

That is until you met Celine.

At first, the prospect seems a little odd, but you've dealt with your fair share of weird customers and even weirder requests, so the offer is not yet entirely off-putting.

It is when she became a regular when something miniscule shifted.

Never asking for more than the pleasure of your company, you have grown to find solace in her repeated requests for your time. And she pays well too.

Lounging in the VIP section of the club, you lay against the softness of her chest. It's comfortable, having a quick respite from the bustle of your life and occupation.

"Baby." The voice is soft, and it slips just as easily as it worms to your heart. "How about offering your services solely to me? You wouldn't have to worry about a thing and you can finally leave this place like you always wanted."