Kira Modest

Chapter 20

                                      Shift 7

"Now you want money and debauchery. Climb the pole, babe!" The demon pushes me with his fiery hand, and I obediently do as he commands. New strip heels add to my good mood and confidence. Matte black platform in the front and a thin stiletto. Velvet black stripes intertwine across the sole and reach the calf, ending in a lavish bow. They look cute and sexy at the same time on my delicate little foot. 
Right in front of me, two men sit who are already ready. It's only ten in the evening, and they've already had a strong drink and announced themselves at the club. Their appearance is hard to see from here; I need to grab Mary and go to them.
"Here they are! Let's try to approach them." I suggest to her with a sparkle in my eyes.
They seem to be two men in their thirties. One sits calmly, looking somewhere behind, while the other innocently sways to the music, sitting on the armrest of the couch and smoking a hookah. He's wearing white pants and a black T-shirt with some inscription. He has a rough model-like appearance. His face is elongated with sharp cheekbones and a square jawline. His light brown hair is perfectly trimmed by a professional barber and styled to the side. He is tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and tanned skin. As we approached closer, I noticed scratches on his skin — small dimples all over his cheeks. His friend was also muscular but shorter in height. His appearance is definitely not Ukrainian:
black hair and eyes betray some nationality unfamiliar to me.
"Hi!" I cheerfully began. "We come to you!"

The fair-haired guy lifted his head and drunkenly grinned at me, smiling broadly.
"Sit down," he said weakly, pointing with the hookah pipe to the couch. 
Carefully, leaning on the LED screen table with our hands, we squeezed onto the couch.
"The one in white pants is mine," I whispered softly to Mary. 
"I don't really care, they're both cute," she quietly replied in my ear.
"What's your name?" I asked, reaching up towards him.
"Dima." The guy in white pants smiled at me and descended from the couch railing to sit closer.
"And you have already had drinks I se..."
"Hey! Is it okay for you that we've been just sitting here!?" I was interrupted by that annoying tacky little blonde who once dropped a ridiculous phrase in conversation with me: "I thought they kicked you out from the table." 
The guys glanced at them, and Mary and I stared at each other with open mouths, not knowing what to say.
"Do you want them to sit with you?" Mary awkwardly asked the men. 
"They just arrived first..."
"Yes! I was just going after my friend!" Once again, the little blonde interrupted us, not letting me finish my sentence to Dima.
I don't want to look silly, so I decide to leave right away. Competing with them is beneath me. We get up and crawl out from behind the low table the same way we came. 

"Sorry, they just got here first..." Dima trails off with wild awkwardness. 
We left.
The mood is ruined, because I liked him. And looking at these men — they look very good and expensive. I can't believe they would choose such...
It's my turn to dance, and I climb onto the pole right in front of them. Now I'll show them what they've traded me for! "Oh, Kira's competing again!" The demon exclaimed with a wildly cheerful voice. Will he ever leave my head? 
Those guys immediately turned their attention to me. From my observations, Dima didn't even look at the little blonde's friend. Instead, he started staring at me. 
I lower myself to the LED screen floor and arch my back on all fours in a cat pose. I raise my butt up high and sharply turn to face them. They smile at me, appreciating my figure. Dima raises a thumbs up, showing 'great'. The blonde girl is probably burning with jealousy right now. I continue to dance, spinning around the pole like a tornado and gently coming down. I wrap my leg around the pole and sit in a rider's pose in front of them. I expose my chest, and by the way, I'm not wearing a mask. It's strange, but I don't feel embarrassed. The embarrassment dissolved after the satisfaction from male compliments. Dima smiles and gestures for me to come closer with his finger. I nod 'okay' and head to the dressing room to touch up my makeup after dancing on all the poles.
As I approached them, I only managed to hear: "It's okay, everything's fine," from the friend of the blonde girl. She left, and I took her place. 
"You dance really well." The men said almost in unison.
It pleased me, and I smiled, noticing the feigned politeness on the face of the annoying blonde girl. She apparently realized she'd have to hang out in the same company and better put on a smile. Disgusting!
"What's your name?" Dima asked.
"Kara." I carefully took the hookah pipe from him, and he grinned at my audacity.
"Why did that girl leave?" I asked quietly, making sure the blonde girl couldn't hear me.
"I really don't know why she came. We didn't invite them — they just joined us. But this blonde girl seems to have caught Sergey's eye."
"Shall we go to you?" I unexpectedly blurted out, not even having had a chance to talk to them.
"We will." Dima nodded and smirked. 
"And when?" I asked sweetly.
"Well, let's hang out a bit more, smoke, and then we'll go." He waved his hand towards the door and resumed swaying on the armrest of the couch.
His smirks are a bit unsettling, or maybe he's just drunk...or I'm being too...too persistent. 
His friend Sergey is sitting more calmly on the couch, chatting with the girl. I can't engage Dima in conversation at all; he's smoking and barely dancing near the couch. Due to the alcohol, he's a terrible conversationalist.
"Listen, we should hype them up and leave the club," I whisper to the blonde girl.
"Yeah," she agrees. "I don't want to hang out here either."
"Looks like Kira-Kara has learned to work!?" The demon sneers maliciously. I just don't want to attract any more attention in the club!
"Dima." I want to approach him closer to persuade him quickly, but the hookah pipe blocking the narrow passage between the table and the couch is in my way. 
I decide to step over it carefully. Without anything to hold onto, I lift one leg, trying to maintain balance on the twenty-centimeter heels. I want to look like an elegant and refined ballerina, holding my body confidently and, despite the movement error, making it seem unnoticed. I step over the black rubber hose from the bowl. Ah! Why does it sting so much? I turn my head back and see the knocked-over shisha and scattered coals on the couch, then shift my gaze to where I feel the heat and see a huge square chunk of burning coal smoldering on my calf. Oh God... With a bewildered, frightened look, I carefully brush it off my leg, trying to maintain the same confident, steady stance of a ballerina, not that of a startled chicken flapping around! The eyes of those sitting are equally shocked. Everyone stares at the burnt square patch on my skin, from which blood is already 
flowing freely. I can hardly feel it from the shock of seeing burning coal on my flesh.
"You hit the pipe with your heel!" The blonde girl shouts over the music.
"I didn't even feel it..." I look at my charred, flesh-exposed skin and start to feel it.
"Quick, go treat it! Do you have something?" Dima asks, sobered up and astonished.
"Yes, I'll be right back." 
The hookah attendant rushes over to clean up the mess I've caused, and I head towards Alla Vladimirovna, who is already coming to meet me. 
"You won't charge me for the ruined couch, will you?" I ask her anxiously as we head to the dressing room together. "Are you more concerned about money than the wound that will likely leave a scar for life?"
'A scar for life'... a true mark of the strip club on my body... 'more concerned about money'... I don't know... My dad also has a scar for life... he never talked about what caused it. 
'A physical injury that will turn into a moral one' — is this what Polina's cards meant? No way! That's nonsense! It's not even worth calling it an injury! Just a minor burn... Which could have happened in any regular hookah bar! 
"Thank you so much." I thank Alla Vladimirovna for treating the wound and applying the plaster.
"Does it sting a lot?" She asks with her hoarse, smoke-roughened voice.
"It hurts more, but it's ok. I can still work." I desperately smile.

The four of us, plus the fifth taxi driver, arrive at the barrier.
"I'll open it now, just wait." Dima, now sober, retrieves the car keys along with a button on the key fob from his pocket, and the striped barrier lifts.
"Do you have a car?" The blonde girl asks with a rude, dull tone. 
Oh God! I mentally cover my face with my hand. A dumber question couldn't have been invented. It's logical that he has a car if he's taken out the keys...
"Hah," Dima smirked, "yes, I do." Shaking my head at her stupidity,
he turns the key in the lock and opens the doors in front of me. 
"Ah! How lovely!" I'm greeted by a gray fluffy cat! "What's its name!?"
"Moses," Dima replies.
The cat moves aside, and we all enter the apartment. 
His big curious eyes stare at everyone from head to toe. I wonder if he's happy to see us?
"Moses! Sweetheart!" I reach out to him, wanting to pick him up. He hesitates slightly but doesn't resist. "love cats so much! You're so soft!" I gently stroke his fluffy cat head and play with his ears. "Hey! Where are you going!?" He wriggles out of my arms.
"He doesn't really like sitting on laps," Dima says with a smile and politeness. 
Moses sniffs and investigates my shoes, then looks at everyone before proudly striding off into the corner of the hallway.
"Oh, he's so important," the blonde girl remarks. 
What's her name? I don't know, and I don't want to know. Her acid-yellow, rhinestone-studded swimsuit still haunts my vision and makes me feel nauseous.
I don't want to be near her and ask Dima to go to a separate room. We enter a spacious bedroom. The windows are covered with heavy curtains, making the room dark. Only thin strips of light filter through the windows, casting white lines onto the large bed covered with a light burgundy blanket. 
"What are we going to do?" I approach Dima seductively and tenderly. 
He's so calm, constantly smiling gently, soft – just as his cat! They say pets resemble their owners for a reason. But still, he's undeniably sexy. Despite his smirks, he's polite and well-mannered. 
"What do you want?" He asks in a subdued voice, wrapping his arms gently around my waist.
"I want... I want acknowledgment and affection. I want you to look at me warmly and hold me close," my consciousness sings.
"Dirty sex and a downpour of dollars, a twenty-four-hour extension and a rain of dollars, admiration for me and no obligations, just dollars, dollars, dollars!" the greedy demon screams in my mind, drowning out the tender, kind voice.
I reach out for his neck, embrace him and kiss him indecently on the lips, with my other hand reaching and pressing onto the zipper of his pants. I grip tighter and try to clasp my hand. A wave of erection washes over him. I arouse him and ignite myself.
With the force of my body, I push him onto the bed and climb on top. Curiosity flares within me, and my hand is itching to delve into his pants. I want to tease myself and refrain from doing it now. I cross my hands behind my back and unzip my dress. He looks at me with the same sweet smile. But the rough contours of his features make it masculine. The straps gently slide off my shoulders, and I find myself topless before his eyes. His muscular hand reaches for my chest and gently grasps it. I look down at him and slide my hands under his shirt — I want to bare his torso. He rises up and takes off his top. Wow! His body is incredible! I press against his chest, pinning his shoulder blades to the bed. I want to lick his muscles. I lean down, and his hand strokes my bare back, the palm descending lower to pull my dress off. I lick his nipple, then suck it in, creating a vacuum, deliciously smacking my lips.