Verua was completely aware of the security guard behind her again and all his movements. As he stepped forward and did his best to move to not distract her movements, she stepped slightly over allowing her more room as she flicked a glass from above her head using the tip of a bottle. Seemed someone out on the floor was willing to pay for top shelf liquor so early in the night, may as well give them a fancy glass. It twirled and landed with some sort of invisible grace as if it had never been anywhere other than on the bar top itself.

“Yes, I called our beefed up man here. We were briefed to if any thing weird was going on.” Even though she was having a conversation, it seemed work never stopped and she was more than capable of handling it. It was the perfect time since the boss was right in front of her. Reliability in her position was something she was seeking at the moment not that any ulterior motives would have show during her shifts.

Her voice was quieted but she knew Jarum would still hear every word out of her mouth, even if he did end up staring at her tits. But it seemed like he was here for business at the moment anyways. “Could chick-sit him and his pecker wouldn’t even notice, let alone tent. It’s not normal. Stares at the midget-twitcher constantly.”

To prove Verua’s point, Liquid’s supposed stalker was still staring at her. He hadn’t gotten aggressive again since she turned away from him the second time. He’s remained calm, but almost has a smug smile that she had lost her balance and that was a sign of... control. Or perhaps in his own mind it was.

Jarum spotted the man, and then looked back to Verua with a wry grin, but behind the relaxed smile, his thoughts were scurrying. He had seen way too many like this guy around Liquid now to call it coincidence anymore. He wasn't going to let security kick this one out. It was time for answers.

The security guard behind the bar was baffled when his nod wasn't acknowledged with anything more than a "Stay here" before his boss's boss strode off towards the stalker. He turned to Verua and tried to take it lightly. "Talk about micromanaging, eh? What the fuck do you think is up with that?"

Sidling up beside the admirer and resting his palms on the polished-chrome railing overlooking what could best be described as a pheromone-dripping, high-class mosh pit, he, too made a show of admiring Liquid. His face was one of enthusiasm, an appreciative connoisseur showing off his wares.

"Some broad, eh?" he said, looking sideways at the man who, if Jarum had his way, would be vomiting in pain on a concrete floor in mob-town within the hour.

Just as quickly as it started, the music came to an end. Before she knew it, Zura was swimming back down the trunk of the massive glass tree to the secret door hidden in the back. With another back flip and a final kick of her legs, she found herself landing in the entrance with small bounce in her step.

In that moment gravity hit her in an overwhelming wave. In all her swimming acrobatics, her stomach and all of its contents had found their way up to her chest, they had buried themselves under her ribcage and made a new little home for themselves. Upon entering the world of weight once more, they had dropped back down to their rightful place in such a manner that caused Zur to nearly lose the light salad she had eaten earlier in the night.

She had to push two other girls out of her way in a desperate attempt to make it to the locker room before she emptied her guts on the floor with watching customers. By the time she made it through the door and over to the sinks just inside, Zura found that she no longer felt the need to vomit, just simply wash away the sweat of the routine and the bad taste in her mouth. She splashed a handful of water in her mouth, spit it out, soaked her hands in the cool water and pulled away the strands of loose hair that clung to her face.

It wasn't until she looked up, into the mirror that she saw that she was not alone in the locker room. The blonde girl from earlier, the one that had been spreading rumors about her, was leaning against a bathroom stall and staring at her.

"So it is true?"

"I didn't say that it wasn't." Zur sat about drying her hair on a towel hanging from the wall next to her.

"Does the boss know about it yet? You think he's going to continue letting you play in the tree with it making you this sick?" It was obvious that this was only concerned with stealing her job and getting her own promotion, something not all that uncommon among the girls but not something Zura wanted to deal with right now.

"Of course he knows, I told him about it and he is fine with me working the tree until I want to give it up, you aren't taking my position that easily."

"Oh?" Was all she said before leaving the locker room.

Great, the last thing I need is another person on my case.
_______________________________________________________________

Sasha was learning just what it took around here to get exactly what she wanted. To make it in this world of strippers, whores, high stakes gambling, and more money than she knew what to deal with, she needed to stick up for herself and do what is needed to get ahead.

As it turned out Zuraeah had gotten herself in a position in which she would eventually find herself out of work and her spot in the tree unattended. If she wanted it, she would have to jump on it early or she would risk losing it to another. Not this time, she thought. Last time a position in the tree was available, she had waited thinking that she was good enough that she would be considered for it without having to backstab others or push herself in, but not this time. This time she was taking the imitative and going for it.

After leaving the locker room, she headed over to the boss's office but she only had to ask the security officers at the front of the large double doors to find out that he wasn't in there right now. One of the men mentioned him attending to something down on the second floor, and Sasha went to go find him herself.

Her plan was to confront him, express her concern for Zuraeah and the subtly convince him that she had what it took to take over the empty spot within the tree.
_______________________________________________________________

Keven had once vowed to himself that he would never visit his sister's place of work so that he would not have to witness for himself what she did for a living. He knew very well the kinds of things she did for money but by staying away, he didn't have to think of it and more importantly he wouldn't have to see it.

As he told himself now though, he wasn't doing it to spy on her or to beat up whatever poor excuse for a man she was sleeping with (like he had done with her boyfriends when she was younger), but he was here for her general well being. He need to check up on her and make sure that she was going to be in good hands.

So when he arrived at the High Rise, showed his identification to the security at the front door and underwent the search and scan for any weapons or other prohibited items, he just kept telling himself how he would try to discreetly go about asking about his sister without actually causing any sort of scene or doing anything that would get his sister fired. Once cleared any allowed inside of the glamorous gentlemens club, Keven went about tracking down the first man in a suit that he saw, of the security type and asking where he might be able to find Zuraeah's manager or supervisor.

Jarum’s initial approach to the chrome bar separating observers from the ones dancing before was completely unnoticed by Liquid’s observer. It wasn’t even obvious if the man even noticed the railing anyways. He stood near perfect still, his body not even making the most subtle of movements to the music.

Most didn’t talk to him, the women he completely ignored for the most part, as was noticeable earlier when he knocked into the girl spilling the drinks. But being spoken to by a male some how elicited a reaction, though he still did not move his eyes from Liquid. “Her name is Liquid, she isn’t just some broad. She’s..” He took an adoring breath, “simply magical.”

Almost as if on command, though not truly, Liquid commenced a show of talent for the men. Her legs spread shoulder width apart with a pop to strong note with in the music that lingered out. The beat of the music was fast and animalistic, and some how she had an almost serenity about how she danced. Her hip rotated clockwise as she slowly corkscrewed herself lower with in her cage. Her arms smoothly twisted above her head showcasing the vast strength in her legs. Jarum, and the man he stood near would receive a show of her perfect ass rotating. She moved so elegantly until her bottom was several inches above the ground and in an instant picked up pace as if she’d never been going slow, pushing her ass out. Another spectacular move that could be remembered and forgotten in the blink of an eye.

~~~~

Verua was not phased by Jarum’s sudden departure her rush of drink orders coming to a halt for a few moments allowing her to take a quick inventory of everything from the amount of clean and dirty glasses to what was the most popular drink headed off her bar tonight. She smirked and turned towards the security guard. Almost acknowledging him for the first time by this point by sizing up his form.

“Talk about micromanaging, eh? What the fuck do you think is up with that?”

She laughed. She straight up laughed. “You’re new here,” she put it bluntly. “let that man do what he wants, and stay the fuck out of his way. Apparently, massive shit went down here recently. Perhaps I’ll get my wish and that pocket-sized bimbo will be out of here soon enough.”

Verua’s glance flickered over to Liquid just as she was completing her showy move. If she could spit she probably would have in half disgust for the woman’s show. “Still don’t see what’s so special,” she muttered mostly to herself, but partially to the security beside her.

The security guard didn't even hear Verua's mumble, mesmerized as he was by Liquid's gyrations. He let out a low whistle, and cocked his head, clearly impressed. "Damn, I love this job."

At the railing, Jarum smiled to himself, thinking about that perfect moment, when this man's self-assurance would crack, and the words would come spilling out like treasure. For now, he played the unwitting host.



"Yepp. That's why I hired her. You... wouldn't be interested in a private meeting, would you? Most of our dancers keep to the stage, but I think she could be convinced, if the price was right."

_____________________

Bauchs was cruising as though on a cloud, the smooth blacktop of the open-air bridge under the LP7's wheelbase washing away at 260 mph. He had been out at the Pharmickers' Guild, working his Lowtown games, when Jarum's message pinged. It pissed him off when something came up in the middle of an ass-pounding. But on the other hand, it was nice to remind the scum that, in the end, they weren't really worth his time; that he had more important things to do than run around commanding their respect every time a bookie got wise with the numbers, or a dealer couldn't move a product.

The sun conduction systems worked their magic with the far-off sunset a few levels up, punctuating the surreal scope of the Gloaming darkness with faint threads of bloodied gold. It was the sort of thing that could throw a first-time inter-Guild traveler off course. Bauchs ignored the darkness, and geared up.

From the sounds of it, it was time to play hardball with someone big. They never used 426 unless it was the sort of thing that nobody could ever know about. He grinned, and let the autocruise do its thing as he lit up a pug cigar. "I smell cash."

Procedures like this had been drilled into the heads of the new security guards from the very beginning of their training. They knew just what to do when faced with a questioning patron. "Sir you are going to need to call and make an appointment." The tall, suit-wearing guy that looked more like a statue than a person, pulled a business card out from inside of his jacket and handed it to Keven.

Keven reluctantly took the card. Well coming here was a big waste of his time. He could have just as easily called to make an appointment from the comfort of the apartment. What a waste of a trip. So he headed over to the closest bar, ordered a drink and while he waited for it, he dialed the number on the tiny sheet of paper on his cell.

The phone rang once, twice, and then just before the third ring would have chimed in, an automated answering system picked up on the other side. "Thank you for calling the High Rise, we look foreword to meeting any and all of your needs. For hours, please press one now. For a list of our new regulations, please press two now. For employment opportunities, please press three now. To make and appointment, please press four now."

Keven hit the number four and waited for the next set of questions to kick in.

"For an appointment with the owner, Mr. Benson Jarum, please press one now. For an appointment with a floor manager..."

Keven wasn't really sure who to make the appointment with but he figured that if he could get a real person on the phone that he could explain his situation and find out who best to talk to. So hit hit the one key.

"Hello, this is Aida speaking, Benson Jarum's assistant, how can I help you today?" Her voice sounded cheerfully pleasant and gave off the sense that she truly enjoyed her job.

"Well.." Keven started in. "I don't know if I've called the right number or not."

"Who is it you wish to speak to?" Aida didn't sound the least bit displeased that Keven was taking up her time. "I can connect you with another number if you have misdialed."

"Well I need to make in appointment to speak with Zuraeah's manager or supervisor or whoever that might be."

"Do you wish to speak with her floor manager or with her boss? I can try to set you up with an appointment to speak with them both or just one of them if you would like. Might ask ask to the nature of this conversation so as to better direct who to hold this meeting with?"

"Well...I am concerned about her and her working schedule." He had to think about how and what he was going to say to this woman.

"If it is fine with you, I can set you up with an appointment at 2pm tomorrow with Benson Jarum. Can I get your name sir?"

"Calintine, Keven Calintine." he turned around to grab his drink from the woman behind the bar and hand over a few gunmetal in exchange. He ended the phone call, drank his drink and left the club with a nod to the security guard that had given him the business card.
_______________________________________________________________

Zur sat in the locker room with her back up against a wall. The last thing she needed at this moment was to worry about somebody trying to steal her job out from underneath her. She knew that Jarum wouldn't just replace right now but what about when she started showing or when she could no longer hide her pregnancy from the customers? And what about when she finally went on maternity leave; how long would that be? How long would he wait before fill an empty spot within the tree with the first girl that crossed his path? Would she be able to get it back if it came to that?

"… but I think she could be convinced, if the price was right."

Uncharacteristically the man’s head turned to look towards Jarum though his lasting impression of Liquid’s last moves still fresh in his mind had his eyes easily flicking back and forth between Liquid’s curves and Jarum’s offer. “You assure it will be private?” There was some random thought that cycled through his eyes, the uncertainty of meeting the woman, but the excitement of it happening. While waiting for a response, his eyes were all for Liquid again. It was almost amazing drops of drool didn’t escape the corners of his mouth.

~~~

Verua looked over to the Security who was obviously gawking at Liquid. Her arm swung out in a meaningful but not serious swing to get his attention should it connect right. “Attention to the whores, isn’t your job.” She was half teased, but was mostly serious in her tone.

Sufficiently chastised, the guard averted his eyes and redoubled his focus on scanning heads. From what he had seen so far, he deduced that Verua was at least respected by Mister Jarum, and it would therefore behove him to look and speak in a professional manner in her company. He kicked himself for having a pair of working nuts.

"Never worked in a strip club before, much less a place like this. Gotta get used to it, you know."

What really scared the crap out of him was the Silo. I don't know how Mehem just stands there, night in and night out, working lift controls while all around him, there's... that. I'd get fired for gawking. It had happened before. In a place where oiled-up, gorgeous, feminine skin was glaring at one from every angle, it took a lot of self-discipline for a strapping young lad to keep his mind on the job.

Jarum had all that self-discipline, and more. He could look out over the nihilistic display and say to himself, been there, been there, been there several times, probably go there soon, been there... and then his gaze landed back on Liquid; the topic at hand, as it were. The man was asking for confirmation of privacy. Jarum chose to misinterpret the question ever so slightly.

"Ah, I understand," he said with a wink of camaraderie, the universal secret handshake of the unofficial Brotherhood of Adulterous Swine. "Sir, the High Rise is the last word in skin. You don't get that kind of title without a reputation for discretion. Look around you. I'm willing to bet that about eighty percent of these men have wives or girlfriends. If your dame sniffs you out, I can guarantee you it wasn't our trail she was nosing."

He smoothly snatched two snifters of brown alcohol from a passing nude's tray, and gave one a sniff. There was no smile of appreciation, no fluttering of the eyes or deep sigh; simply a nod. He offered the other snifter to the man. Might as well make your last drink a good one. "Kismet Oak liqueur, aged fifteen years. Let our bar's top shelf be a testament to your irreproachable taste."

Sasha would not allow herself to be ignored for long. The boss might have been in the middle of one of his many little impromptu meetings with the customers, but she had ways of getting her point across. Instead of clearly interrupting his meeting by getting between them and trying to distract the boss, she approached him from behind, lend in to whisper into his ear and made a display of playing with her hair for the customer to see.

"When you're not busy I'd like to talk to you about Zur. I'm worried about her, she nearly fell out of the tree and looks deathly sick." Nothing much, just enough to get his attention and make him worry too. She left his side before he could ask questions of his own or try to rationalize the situation and he would be sure to look into it. Sasha just needed to come across as the concerned body looking out for the well being of her coworker and she wouldn't be forgotten that easily.

Now all she had to do was wait.
_______________________________________________________________

The same was true in regards to Keven, he had accomplished all that he could with his pointless trip out to the club, so when he finished his drink, he headed back outside and over to the motor-park where he had left his ride-motor. From a single glance across the park it was easy to see that he had the oldest, cheapest ride-motor in the entire park; unlike these businessmen, doctors, lawyers, investors, high-stakes gamblers, Keven didn't have the kind of money that these guys did. He couldn't afford one of these nice new ride-motors or countless other things these men had or could afford to have.

It wasn't really a sense of jealousy or resentment that he felt towards these men, sure there was a little bit of the 'man if I had that kind of money I would...' feeling, but no, it was his sister he thought of more. He could live without such things as luxury rides, expensive suits, fancy accessories and a monthly rent fee that rivaled the cost of buying a new ride, he didn't even have these things now, but they were an important part of his sister's world. At her very core she was still that materialistic little child that still thought love was something that could be purchased on a platinum card. So, he doubted that she could live without such things.

He understood through his own loses, downturns and rough times that life didn't always allowed people to live the way they wanted. That's how he lost his house and found himself sleeping on his sister's guest bed, but what really upset him was this feeling that what was happening to his sister wasn't solely her fault. Why should she have to experience hard times and the struggle of trying to have a child on her own while some guy continued to live this high and mighty life that she loved so much?

"Kismet Oak liqueur, aged fifteen years. Let our bar's top shelf be a testament to your irreproachable taste."

The offered snifter was taken in an almost artistic manner. The art being that his eyes remained focused on the curved beauty before them only flicking a moment to make sure he had the glass properly in hand before he moved it from Jarum’s hand. Top shelf liquor was quite an honor to be given and he acknowledged not only the drink but the privacy offered with a nod. The simplest of ways to seal an almost non-verbal deal. It struck him then and nearly took the gentleman from what seemed like a daze of watching Liquid. Should I know who this man is?

A sharp snap in Liquids fluidic and succulent movements caught his attention again and brought all attention back to the beauty. It amazed many of the men on the floor how she could be so smooth among such a strong set of music, it was perhaps the entire of the charm of this woman for many. It was entrancing and kept the mans thoughts a lot more narrowed than they ought to be. This being the case, he didn’t even notice Sasha’s little display of hair for him, or even her approach to Jarum. In a solid gesture, moments after the girl moved away again, he raised his glass to Jarum before he would have his first sip of the fine liquor. “To Liquid.”

~~~

Verua laughed at the instant berating the man gave himself over getting turned on. “Grab a bucket of ice, it’ll calm things down below.” Had she not been on the clock she might have patted his pants in mock empathy for his almost apparent situation. She never stopped working, filling orders the flare in her movements as intricate as any of the girls on the floor, but unique to just her in this place it seemed. Made her stick out for all the right reasons despite the obvious.

“You’ll get used to them soon enough. Specially if enough turn you down.”