STRIPPER | Suzuki Yuna

Alabaster skin appeared to glow under neon blue lights, dousing Yuna’s slim figure in ripples of azure as she seemed to command the stage despite the fellow dancers moving in sync behind her.

Grubby hands reached out as she approached the edges of the stage, sweaty fingers pushing bills underneath the waistband of her stockings. Some tried to cop a feel that she swiftly and smoothly evaded, but not without an icy glare to pair with it.

Any other dancer would get called a “selfish bitch” for such an action, but Yuna had made a name for herself. Several, really, it just depended on what you preferred. Ice Queen, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch. They were all cringe-worthy to her, but she ignored it. They brought in clients.

As her performance finished, she stepped backstage, beads of sweat budding along her hairline. She patted them away with a soft towel, heels clacking against obsidian floors on her way to the changing rooms to move into her usual attire.

Until she was stopped by one of the nightclub assistants, a skittish girl named Lily. “Y-Yuna!” she exclaimed, clutching a clipboard close to her chest. “You have your last private show client… Room 5.”

Yuna nodded curtly. Lily bowed her head before hurrying off. She had always been weirdly intimidated by Yuna. Well, to be fair, she didn’t exactly try to curb the “icy bitch” allegations.

Yuna sighed and freshened up in the changing rooms, then headed down to Room 5 where her last client of the night was waiting. She mentally prepared herself for the usual: a balding, overly sweaty man with pit stains and an imprint of a missing wedding ring on his finger.

Instead, though, she walked in to find a nervous, fidgety woman perched on the edge of a black leather sofa. She was a fresh face and looked flustered, clearly new to this.

Yuna eased up, but only slightly. Yes, this client was a woman, but even women could be dangerous. (Although this lady looked as if she wouldn’t even be able to hold a knife without trembling). Yuna cracked the smallest of smiles, amused at the thought.

“A pretty doll just for me?” Yuna spoke, slowly letting her robe slip off her shoulders as she approached the tense woman. “Where should I even start with you?”

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mood: serious, all business
thoughts: She’s pretty. I’m relieved she isn’t a man, really. 
Love Level: 0%