𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘

Stepping out of my decrepit apartment complex and into the crispy air, a gelid zephyr, accompanied by a cool mist sends a shiver running down my spine. When I tilt my head skyward, I notice that the once salmon and lavender firmament had metamorphosed into a vast expanse of velvety black. I am now warmly welcomed by the raw divinity that somersaults from the constellations of scintillating stars and the lustrous full moon.

I gape in admiration, the jewels slumbering so tranquilly in the black stream as the lambency of the empyrean moon makes a ghostly path for me through the wet, bustling streets of Seattle. These envoys of beauty are so astonishingly miridical that I couldn't help but revel in its overwhelming presence.

I relish the nightfall as it holds the promise of mystery and adventure, beckoning wanderers like me to explore its very depths. It's also the time where one can finally see the city in its most authentic form. A neat array of gleaming, gargantuan skyscrapers; a concrete cage for the needy, the lost and the crestfallen. All desiring some form of escape with absolutely no idea how to get out.

It is quite animated tonight. The streets resonate with honking cars, lively bars pulse with music, busy shoes clack against the pavement and the chattering and laughter of civilians. A mosaic of people seeking sex, drugs, and a sense of ataraxia away from their mundane lives, incognizant of their environs being the devil's playground itself.

After what felt like interminable hours of ambling, I finally arrive at a luxurious club with a fluorescent sign stating Diavolo's Den. I knock on the steel door, and the peephole immediately opens, revealing two eyes, entirely black and devoid of life.

The gap closes and is subsequently replaced by a tall, robust man sauntering out of the door. I observe as his wandering eyes travel down to my breasts protruding out of my bra, straight down to my legs, then back up to my eyes, licking his lips in a libidinous manner. The trench coat that I'm wearing over my outfit does little to shield me from these men and their carnal concupiscence.

My attire consists of a black lingerie; the bra straps and hem of the thong exquisitely embellished with shimmery rhinestones. Over the thong is a black fishnet stocking embroidered with silver gems. It is a rather stunning outfit, one that is perfect for grasping all the attention in any room that I walk in.

The man sucks in a sharp breath before inquiring, "What's a pretty woman like you doing in a place like this?" I observe the curiosity laced in his eyes before I respond.

"I am supposed to have my first show today, Señor."

"Oh, is that so? Then tell me your name, signora." He folds his arms, waiting on my response.

"Mirabella Rose." I reply politely, handing him my fake I.D.

The initial rule of the game is to never give anyone your real name. It is better for no one to ever truly know you in this ghastly business.