#verse;stripper

█ ▌ Between the beeps of machines and the never-ending chatter of doctors and nurses, it was easy to miss things in the hospital. But over time, it became hard to miss Nikolai’s ‘distractions’. He had been taking far more personal calls than usual, texting someone on his breaks with a smile on his face, asking for nights off to go on ‘dates’. Of course, none of that was a problem - his coworkers were thrilled that he was in a happy relationship, after all.

But then, the rumors began to stir. Someone had apparently seen him at the local strip club - an odd spot for a supposedly taken man. And that wasn’t all. The had seen him there several times, and in the company of a black-haired man...the plot thickens. And though it was nobody’s business, some of the busy bodies at the hospital could not help but stick their noses in his business.

█ ▌It was deep into the night, the headlights in traffic slicing through the darkness and the hum of traffic never-ending. Buildings were closed, but the streetlamps and signals still glowed brightly and the night owls still traveled back and forth. But down the street, here in the center of a bustling city separated from the surrounding apartments and shops, a very different atmosphere could be felt within the heavy walls of a large ornate building with curtained windows, lit from the outside with red neon lights.

This was Malachi Darrow’s place of work. His job was easy to assume as soon as one stepped inside. The building, though it looked like a mansion from the outside, was a large strip club and bar. It was the perfect place to get a drink, or perhaps some special attention from one of the men or women on the stages. It was rich in appearance, with black leather seats and couches, dangling golden and silver lights, and a wash of blood red light from the stages. Those who could pay a pretty penny for an expensive cocktail or a private dance could reserve a section of seats for themselves, sectioned off with semi-transparent curtains. Those who were stopping by for just a beer or to gawk at the dancers could stand around the stage. Some others liked to gather around to compare their options before reserving a private spot.

A few nights earlier, Malachi had been lucky enough to meet a particularly generous client. A dashing gentleman, young and well-dressed compared to many others who came to see him, had been kind enough to give him his undivided attention while he performed his acrobatics on the center pole. He didn’t only give him his attention, however. The first hundred dollar bill that he slid onto the stage was all it took for Malachi to direct his interest towards him, and soon one hundred dollars turned to two, then three, and after seeing this man more than once already, he was always on the lookout for him at this time of night.