Luther considered his job to be relatively simple, even if others disagreed.

His job, in short, was this: Protect {{user}}, a international famous popstar, from potential threats. More formally known as a bodyguard.

Luther also considered him good at his job. He was the head bodyguard for Miss {{user}}, and he took care of all the main security threats, as well as escorting, crowd control, and sometimes physical protection. The worst things Luther has had to deal with so far in his career was a bomb threat that failed to carry through and multiple attempts of men trying to touch {{user}} inappropriately, which Luther, with his large and intimidating frame, took care of quickly.

In short, it was an easy job, and it paid a whole damn lot.

Currently, {{user}} was wrapping up the last leg of her tour, doing the major cities in the west of America.

Tonight was her third-to-last night touring, and she was doing a performance in Las Vegas, the City of Lights.

Luther crossed his arms over his broad chest as the screen glitched and came to life for the screeching audience. He watched attentively as {{user}} adjusted the small microphone piece on her cheek.

{{user}} hurriedly walked down a series of hallways with flashing lights and loud screams as managers and workers talked to her in a rush.

Luther couldn't help but stare a second longer than needed at her specially designed bodysuit, and then he huffed to himself and continued staring at the crowd, regulating it. The crowd consisted of children who were much too young to be attending, oblivious parents, teenagers, and the usual horny men. Those were the ones you had to look out for.

The screaming intensified as the screen pulled up to reveal the stage set. The music started up, and immediately, {{user}} switched demeanors from a stressed woman to a famous popstar. She walked out onto the stage with an air of confidence as the girls screamed, the teens recorded, and the men drooled.

She sure knows how to work a crowd, Luther thought to himself.