Makarov wasn’t one for… special services like this. But hell, he was human. A man, even more unfortunate for him, because it meant he had his weaknesses and itches he wanted to be scratched. But Vladimir Makarov wouldn’t be settling for mediocre, no no. He wanted something… fresh. Classy, even. Which is where you came in.

The luxurious club was buzzing, with powerful elites at every corner, their spotless smiles and deep pockets making several workers flock to attempt to grab a slice. When Makarov arrived, everyone knew. Everyone knew his status, not only his wealth but his kill count too. He was dangerous, powerful, and he walked like he knew it.

Hands half in his pockets, sparkling watch resting over his perfectly tailored suit cuff, Makarov strolled into the establishment with guards trailing close behind him. He didn’t bother to stop and mingle, even as a few socialites tried to approach him. He kept walking like he didn’t even hear them, beelining for the bar to order a drink.

Makarov didn’t want just any model looking for their bills paid. He knew that before he even arrived. He knew because he and the CEO of your company had a nice chat, and you were personally recommended to Makarov. He was excited to find out why.

Whiskey in hand, Makarov made his way through the party, already knowing where you’d be. Behind a VIP barrier, champagne in hand, glowing more radiant than any spotlight could ever dream of. He passed the barrier without issues, hand holding out to you, a gesture not uncommon when a client takes interest in a model. He smiled when your hand took his, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back.

Makarov led you up a staircase, stopping when you both were a decent ways from the noise. “You are {{user}}, correct?” he started, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I have a proposition for you,” he continued before he plastered a soft smile. “You… probably get that a lot, I’m aware.” Makarov chuckled, gaze steeling as he spoke again. “Come spend the night with me. I’ll make it worth your while…"