Out Clubbing [P]

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

The evening had a pleasant breeze to it, cooling down the hot-headed Russian as he walked through the alleyways of the beautiful city. Unfortunately, avoiding the streets was a necessity for the man, his face probably on several databases as armed and dangerous - not too far from the truth. Luckily, in his time spent in hiding among the various warehouses and run-down homes of the city, he was able to find all the best ways to survive on what little cash he had, while still being able to hit up each and every single hotspot of sin and debauchery possible. The night approached, and instead of sitting around at his run-down shack of a place, jerking it while browsing his stolen laptop, he decided to enjoy the night thoroughly. His canteen reaches his lips, taking a big swig of the fiery liquid from within, as his head poked out from the alley, staring across the street at the entrance to a seemingly classy, high-maintenance gentlemen's club.

Quickly, Sergei crossed the street, keeping an eye on the entrance, noting the large bouncer screening everyone making their way in. No way was he going to find a way inside through the front-entrance. Luckily, he knew the back-streets well enough, and taking a left away from the club, then an immediate right into another alley, he led himself to the back entrance. Prayers were answered once he stood at the threshold - someone forgot to lock the door. Deus ex machina, anyone? Regardless, with a glance left and right, he slipped in like a snake, making naught a noise as he closed the door behind him. A dark hallway, lined with doors - probably for the dancers - which led out to the MVP area - private rooms for the customers that wanted more "personal attention". He kept his footsteps silent, moving down the corridor, and finally, out into the main floor. The music was blasting, a sizable crowd littering almost every single seat in the room, with the lovely dancers showing off their goods on the main stage.

Sergei quickly moved ahead, keeping his gaze away from the occasional bodyguards that littered the area, for the dancers' protection. Off, to the side of the room, there was an empty couch, half-circle in shape with a table before it, to which he quickly moved to and sat in, relaxing in the plush comfort and the cool leather under him. His fingers gingerly unzipped his jacket, pulling it open and simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief as the cool, interior air hit his bare chest and abdomen. The Russian preferred minimal coverage - helps the skin breath - and it seems that a gentleman's club is the best place for it - everyone's doing it. He smiled to himself, now finally surveying his surroundings, and the girls, to see what he could do to cause a little trouble in the venue. "And a drink. A heavy one preferably," his thickly-accented voice muttered out to no one in particular.

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

Boy, there were asses and titties everywhere; and I mean everywhere. For the women that weren't 'reserved' for 'private attention', there were women on the floor giving lap dances. Classy. Kat wasn't one to judge, I mean, she was among them. Each one had their own routine, and by the time she had finished hers, she had been called out to start serving drinks. Without further ado, the pasties and thong were on. You can imagine how built her stamina must be, bouncing from stripper to cocktail waitress straight out of her routine.

She had been issued to serve the extremely large man sitting alone with an unzipped jacket. Katelyn just prayed to god he wouldn't be a usual creep - she was exhausted, even if it didn't show in her footing. When you're wearing stilettos all night you have to be agile. Of course, he was brought vodka. As she pulled the single drink from her serving tray and handed it to him, she asked, "Do you need anything else? Anything at all?" In the most sensual tone she could muster. It was pulled off well, at least. Hey, it's her job.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

There was no helping it, thought Sergei, as his gaze hit the striking server's face, and slid its way down, inch by inch, along her top, scantily-clad negligee at the waist, and the heels she adorned at the bottom. Needless to say, it took quite longer than a few seconds for him to pull his gaze away from those legs. Probably smooth as silk, what he wouldn't gi-, "Ahem," he cleared his throat, regaining his composure, and giving her a pleasant smile, tearing his eyes away from just the body, and meeting his gaze with his steely own. "Da, actually," he began, drumming his fingers against the mahogany table, "Three more of these, pazhalasta, daragaya. One just... doesn't seem enough." He flashed her a pleasant grin, and in a single swig, shot the fiery liquid down his gullet with a savory, "Aaaaah!"

He pushed the empty glass back to her, his eyes glinting in the low-light of the room as he surveyed the area once more, and returned his steely stare back to the woman, "And feel free to bring one for yourself. You seem to be in a rush, and by the looks of things, your coworkers have the other customers'... hands full," he laughed at that, making a joke that seemed probably only funny to him. While the entertainment was definitely in the women, he wasn't there for the eye-tease, but rather for the drinks - they made them extra-strong in this place, probably to keep the men tipping more and more. He pursed his lips, his mind documenting every single spot that contained a bodyguard or bouncer, noting them in his head for later reference. He intended to make the night exciting, why not take this striking woman for the ride.

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

Kat attempted not to shift uncomfortably under his stare; she got stares a lot, but he was big. Therefor, a little intimidating. She was great at suppressing any type of nervous or anxious feelings though. Instead, she gave him a lazy, yet charming smile. "Of course, I'll be right back with your drinks, sir." After a moment or so, she returned with all three of the shots, sliding them down his little table for him. "And what was your name, sir? You can call me Kitten." She said with a painted smile. God, what an embarrassing stage name. Whatever, she didn't pick it. It was always good to make the experience feel personalized for all of the customers. Better tips. She leaned herself over the table, elbows resting on its service with the rest of her still standing. Way to provide a great view, kitty-Kat.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

"Sergei is fine, Kitten," he spoke out, grabbing one of the three drinks she brought over, and with another quick swig, threw the whole drink back down his gullet with nary a thought. "Don't call me sir, makes me feel far too older than I am," he laughed, feeling the warmth of the second drink spread along his stomach, and up to his chest and shoulders. He cocked an eyebrow, unable to ignore the fact that this woman was still standing at the side of the table, yet managed to bend right over to rest her elbows on the tabletop. He blinked a few times, actually impressed, as he shifted his head to the side to get the full view. "Almost 90 degrees, Kitten," he pointed out, an amused, pleasant grin on his face, "I bet the patrons behind you are enjoying the view far more than I am." A small laugh escaped his lips, the alcoholic effect inching its way into his system, evident only by the gradual thickening of his Russian accent. 

"Katyonok, of course, I appreciate the company," he started, his gaze once again locking onto hers, refusing to continue the exploratory venture that most other customers would find themselves doing, "But I'm curious. As a budding businessman, I've wondered how you Americans manage your businesses. Please, don't go out of the way for this," he explained, a bluff brewing between his lips, "But where would I find your boss if I needed to ask a few questions? Of course, not right now!" He laughed, and grabbing another drink she brought, he swigged it back, mixing in another heavy shot of booze with the ones already in him. Inhibitions slowly eked out of his system, replaced with simply a cool, calculating gaze and a mischievous smile, "I don't expect comrade boss-man would appreciate the drunk ramblings of a foreigner. Hell, I must be torturing you with it as it is!"

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie  

[Katelyn Coralie]

"A pleasure to meet you, Sergei." Katelyn cocked an eyebrow at this man. He was a strange one; Different from the typical men who came in. She supposed that was a good thing. While leaned over, she took one of his shots and downed it for herself - not to mention, clearing it with almost as much ease as him. Almost. "My boss?" She echoed back, wondering where in the world the man would be right now. "Do you want me to go and find him for you, bring him out? Or would you like to hunt him down yourself?" She inquired - as if that question needed answering. "He's up in his office, up that narrow flight of stairs near the rest rooms." She pointed discretely, "But you didn't hear it from me baby." Katelyn said, before being flagged down by one of the bouncers to swap roles once more. "I'll be back soon." She said with a wink, before trotting off.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

His smile brightened at the sight of her taking down the last drink she had brought over. At least she had the gumption to go along with it, he thought to himself, before noting the information she relayed to him. The destination didn't seem too bad, but first, he had to relax and let the alcohol settle into his system. There would be no point in going through a plan that might end up being botched if the booze hit his liver a bit too hard during the act. Instead, he simply let his eyes wander, though not before locking in on the departing Kitten, once again trailing a gaze down then back up her legs. "At least she earned the job," he whispered under his breath.

The ensuing waves of intoxication crashed over him like high-tide over the beach. He kept a good grip of himself, judging the intensity and the possible duration, but alas, the lifestyle of an alcoholic was an expensive one. The drunken high he experienced would barely last ten minutes, followed by a few hours of a pleasant come-down - even though the man was never for come-downs in the first place. He sighed to himself, pulling out his canteen to take a small swig of cheaper vodka to steady his nerves, and recounted his path. A guard at the entrance to the private rooms, a guard at the entrance, and one near the stage. All the while, he noted their movements, and thankfully, was happy to find out none of them got anywhere near the stairs leading up to the manager.

Should more people come in, hiding within the crowd would be the perfect time to strike. However, as his eyes scanned for the lovely Kitten, he needed the accomplice, in case things get... difficult.

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

With the music blaring, Kat played out her routine, watching Sergei make his way across the room towards the stairs. She smiled to herself. It wasn't any of her business, after all. After her time was done, she gathered the dough thrown at her and made her way off the platform and back to serving again. Rinse and repeat, like they always say. There were no customers in need of assistance, so she figured she would make her way towards the stairs herself. Perhaps, she could see what was about to unfold? Her curiosity got the best of her. She waited at the base of the stairs, peering around the edge of the corner up their creeping darkness.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

Sergei made his way for the bottom of the stairs, and leaned up against it, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible. A few others had seen him down the several drinks, so for the most part, he believed that they thought of him as a harmless drunk. His eyes kept a lookout all over, specifically at the top of the stairs, which led to the manager - no one had made any movements up there, so it seemed safe. The guards around the area were focused on everything else, to the luck of the Russian, as they had more important things to deal with than some drunkard Russian trying to get a good view of the stage. And that he did. Sergei showed no shame in basking in the moves his old server, Kitten, showed off. Pleasant, to say the least, as his eyes, once again, fell upon her legs. If he had any money, he would have tipped her handsomely. "Then again," he muttered to himself in Russian, "This could be my way of doing so."

Just as her show reached its ending, the crowd went crazy, and in the ensuing "chaos" - rough word to use, as it was mostly the viewers going wild for the show - he turned on his heels, and sneaked up the stairs. The guards, luckily, were more focused on keeping the rowdy crowd from doing anything stupid. Even then, the path up was short, and in a brief second, he was safely out of the view of anyone worth hiding from. It was a dark hallway, with a single door at the side. His target. He pushed his hand into his pocket, and pulled out his brass knuckles, sliding them onto his fingers, before giving the door a swift, hard knock. A few seconds of silence, followed by a yell from inside, followed by another knock from him. He was silent. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, followed by the clicks of a lock opening, and he gave a final look-around the hallway, and down the stairs, only to meet the gaze of Kitten. He smiled brightly at her, his grin pearly-white, followed by a wink as the door opened. A gruff man poked his head out, yelling out at the Russian, but that was quickly silenced as a wild swing to his jaw threw him back into the room. Sergei followed in after him, a portion of his brass knuckle already covered in what seemed like freshly-colored crimson. She would be the only person who saw it happen.

---

RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

After her show was said and done and she made her way to the stairs, the Russian flashed her a smile and dissapeared from her view, the only thing indicating he was still in the building being the crack of her managers jaw. Owch! She couldn't help but giggle - the asshole deserved it, and even if he didn't it was entertaining. Katelyn wondered how much trouble she would be in if she abandoned her post and went up the stairs without getting help for her fallen employer.

She decided to follow the route that sounded the most entertaining. Silently, Katelyn crept up the dark stairs, feeling in the darkness for the tarnished brass bar as she made her way up the steps. It hadn't occurred to her that the man could turn on her if she went up and that she could also be added to the pile. Ah well. She would take her chances. Katelyn made her way down the hall to the door, peeking from the corner of the door frame at whatever events were unfolding. She didn't say anything and she tried not to make her presence known, though she wasn't exactly the stealthiest. However, Sergei probably already knew she was there...He did see her at the base of the stairs, after all.

He got to enjoy her show, now it was her turn to enjoy his.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

The crunch of the jaw against his brass-knuckled fist was a satisfying sound, adding only more pleasure to the man who had watched one hell of a show just minutes ago on the floor. The vodka flowed through his veins, mixing in with the rush of testosterone from sneaking into the manager's office and putting him on his ass. The man careened to the floor, dazed and stupid, as what looked like a broken jaw hung from his face. Stepping into the well-lit room, he noted the safe, the office-table where he saw fat stacks of cash hanging around, and various posters of show-girls littering every inch of the wall from one end to the other. A distinct smell of weed accompanied the area, and with a closer inspection, several lines of white, powdered dust littered a white sheet of paper on the owner's desk. Seems the guy enjoyed himself too thoroughly these nights - rich, white-boy drugs, they called cocaine.

With a smirk, not bothering to look behind him to the door - whether it be a fault of his from the rush, or him simply not caring - he stooped down over the fallen form of the owner, who was just regaining himself. Before the man could spew out the vile curses that brewed within his mind though, Sergei took one more swing. And another. And another. A flurry of blows, each landing in various parts of the man's body - the temple, the mouth, the stomach, the liver, and for good measure, the gonads - brought the blubbering pig of a man to the floor. The distinct smell of piss came from his collapsed form; Sergei had not killed him, but he would wake up in the morning with probably the worst pain someone could ever want. And he did it all with a sick grin on his face. Standing up, he wiped the blood from the brass knuckles, depositing them into his pockets, and approached the table, eyeing the piles of dollar bills hungrily. "I shouldn't leave without tipping, of course," he reminded himself under his breath.

---

RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

Katelyn watched the show through wide eyes, biting her lip. God damn, this guy was cool - she didn't think that about people. Ever. He even made the poor sap piss himself. Fuck. She wondered if she should approach - would the same come to her? He didn't seem like the wife beater type; besides, she didn't want to live on regrets. She made her presence known as she strut her stuff through the door frame - mostly because she was wearing stilettos and transitioned from carpet to wooden floor, though. "Mmm, good job." She cooed from behind him, nudging her fallen superiors broken jaw, hanging out of socket. "I imagine this is what the Bolshevik revolution may have been like," Kat mused. "Da?"

She made her way to the desk and leaned herself against it, adjusting her weight to one bare hip. "Now Europe is red and the fuhrer is dead. What a pity." She said with a hint of sarcasm, pinching a bit of the cocaine off of the desk and flicking it like dirt. "I like what I see." She mused to him with a small, mischievous smile.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

His eyes surveyed the cluttered table, and with a brief flick, glanced at the doorway, only to see the ever-lovely lady walk in. His first thought was to get out, but the sultry look on her face dissolved any fight-or-flight instinct within his mind. He took his focus away from the job at hand, and let her waltz her way in. "Careful, Kitten," his accent filled the room, accompanied with the occasional thump from underneath, "The revolution was much worse. Women were not spared. I only hurt those who hurt others." His eyes narrowed, a dark, alluring look encroaching his look, as once again, his eyes couldn't help themselves from giving her a good once-over. Even in the brighter light of the office, not a single imperfection.

"The only thing red here is the poor bastard. But, for good cause," he spoke out, and with a swing of his hand, he pushed aside the cocaine to the floor, rendering it worse than trash. His hands pulled open every single drawer they could reach, throwing out useless trash, papers, and empty containers, until finally, he pulled out his target - a key. He flashed it before their eyes, twirling it in his fingers, as a glint flashed over his eyes. He looked at her once more, a smug smile on his maw, and whispered, "Beautiful," not signifying whether he meant the key, or her. He grabbed the small piles of cash from the table and put them in a single stack in the center, planning how to use them, as he approached the side of the table she stood at, and an absent hand gently brushed along her hip, as his gaze turned to the safe - its keyhole practically begging to be penetrated by the key he found in the table. He spoke out, slowly, methodically, to her, "I'd be lying if I said the feeling wasn't mutual, Kitten. It's a beautiful night for many."

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie

[Katelyn Coralie]

Her whole body froze when he touched her, then melted. She placed a few slender fingers on his chest, running her index and middle over his pectoral muscle. "Mm. So, do you mean to say you would break my jaw like that?" Kat had leaned up to whisper in his ear before giving his ear lobe a small bite. She winked to him, a devious smile spreading across her lips, then she hopped up to sit on the edge of the boss-man's desk. Crossing her legs, she watched him, "My real name is Katelyn, you know." She told him, looking at the key in his hand and then to him. "You know, if you like what you see so much, why don't you just do something about it?" Kat wanted to continue to feel this guy out - she wanted to challenge him and test his intentions and limits. She didn't want this to be a waste of her time.

[Sergei Zaharov]

SERGEI ZAHAROV

He didn't move a single muscle of his body in response to her advance, though the bottom of his stomach practically flipped and fluttered at the heat of her breath on his ear, the nibble on his ear, then the sudden absence of her presence, gone as quickly as it happened. He gave her a narrow-eyed, side-long look, tempted terribly, but his will-power kept him contained - for now. "I wouldn't dare lay a finger on you in any way similar to the way I did to the pig," he gestured out to the knocked-out owner of the club, "Again, an absolute pleasure, Katelyn. However, if it does not offend, I like Kitten. It seems more..." He pondered his words at this moment, fingering the key in his hand, "More endearing. Fits your beauty," he finished with a wink.

He took a few steps back from her, still facing her, and with a quick flick of his hand, he pushed the key into the opening, hearing a click as it fit perfectly. He did not turn it, however, as he just leaned against the safe, letting his eyes slide along every inch of her form sitting before him - the crossed legs, and heels, all the way up to the smile he couldn't keep his eyes off of. "Dangerous game, you're playing, Kitten. I would do something about it. I just don't think," he paused, gesturing to the knocked-out figure of the man on the ground, "That this is the best place for it." Another flick of his hand, the key turned, and with a swish, the safe opened, revealing more stacks of money hidden within its confines. He grabbed one sleeve, holding it up in one hand, and he approached the sitting figure of the woman before him. His other hand fell upon her leg, resting on its smooth skin.

"But it seems I have what I came for, originally. I can't say I made plans earlier for this... lovely interruption." A coy grin, his steely gaze once more locked onto hers.

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RESERVED | Katelyn Coralie