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Written Feb 10 2009.

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The club itself was difficult to spot. Unlike other clubs along the strip, this place seemed small and too quiet. The neon sign read "FFANTASY" in alternating flashing letters. If Bornes had not heard it mentioned, he would've glanced right over this place.

Without further hesitation, he walked into the old brick building. Inside, he found soft red lighting and a clam atmosphere. It had many tables and booths surrounding a stage, where some solemn women dressed like slim animals danced to soothing music.
Had he walked into the wrong place?
There were quiet mumblings from those who chose to speak through the show, but otherwise, this place was nothing like he was expecting.

Bornes blinked, a bit confused, turning to the hostess standing behind some podium. Was this some sort of restaurant?
"May I help you, Sir?" the woman asked. She was wearing some sort of maid dress, but it was made from only leather and latex. The boy's green eyes obviously lingered on her curves. The outfit left nothing to the imagination.
Before he even realized he'd zoned out, he was approached by a blonde haired kid in an outrageous pimp suit.

"Sir, can I help you?"
The kid looked eighteen at most, and his outfit was ridiculous. Huge fuzzy red overcoat with white feather trim and a hat with a large overhanging white feather tucked into it. Bornes couldn't help but laugh. This kid in such an outfit, speaking so seriously? Hilarious!

The pimp crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you should leave," he stated sternly.
Pimp Kid could only be 5'6", tops. Bornes stood at six feet. His green eyes narrowed as he looked down at the boy, culling his laughter.
"You are serious? How old could you be?" Bornes chuckled in his forced english. He did not have the best concentration when inebriated.

"Much older than you, apparently," the Pimp Kid said, attempting to push Bornes out while Leather/Latex Maid/Hostess looked on, gripping some prop serving plate nervously.

Bornes put his left hand on Pimp Kid's hat, hesitating only a few miliseconds before yanking the feather away with a "tsk." He put it under his nose and took a huge whiff, relishing the smell of smoke, B.O., and whatever else the feather's tendrils had kept over the time it was worn.

Bornes was only nineteen now, almost twenty. But nobody ever asked his age. He had a full head of grey hair, and stress had aged his face enough to appear at least twenty five. It did him good, anyway- he had no ID. He was an illegal here. He also had four tattooes on his face. Two black "whiskers" on each side of his chin. They were more like triangles, emphasizing his square jawline and wide mouth. Ves had convinced him to get the tatts. Bornes pretended they didn't exist now.

The Pimp Kid effortlessly grabbed the feather back, and motioned to a dominatrix-looking dyke to come over. The both of them, obviously unafraid of Bornes, pushed him toward the door. It was Dyke Dom who actually threw him out on the street.

"Druki?" Inside, the latex and leather maiden, nicknamed Floral, called to her boss. "Who was that?"
Floral held the serving tray up to her chest, behind the podium. She was a new recruit.

The thirty year old "pimp kid" took his hat off and replaced the feather inside the white trim. "Just some drunkard who probably walked into the wrong club again."
He turned to her, his short blonde hair full of sweat and disheveled from long hours. He covered the catastrophe with his hat once more, feather now in place.
"Don't worry about them," he said. "You just call me or Anna," Anna was the Dyke Dom, apparently, "and we'll help you out. They are mostly harmless anyway."

Floral pushed the tray into her chest with a deep sigh, later setting it atop the podium as Druki left to do whatever work it was that managers did.

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Written Feb 10 2009.

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