So I'm actually very excited for this story! If you didn't know, music resonates with me very well and oddly a rap song (yes rap. It's honestly underrated as far as poetry and art goes) inspired me to do this long-running fic. Tracy is at least 40 years old in this fic (I tend to change ages based on time. It's a more delicate process than most people think), same goes for Luke. Sam is around 20 years of age or a little older. So reviews are appreciated and I hope you all enjoy my take on this!

Chapter 1: Reality

If anyone had the choice, no one would choose to live in the ghettos of Soho, New York. Strapped for cash, working overtime, struggling to feed themselves and on top of that, a kid. Sadly, it was almost normal in that area; any ghetto area in New York, matter of fact. On the bright side, there was a roof over most of these people's heads and food on the table once or twice a day. But, in situations as these you do what you have to do to survive. Meaning anywhere to selling drugs or even yourself for some money.

After a lifetime of riches and wealth, going to the best schools money could buy and traveling the world, carrying a high corporate title, being stripped of all that is losing everything you've ever known. So what do you resort to? For Tracy Quartermaine it was moving to the slums and stripping her business suit for the perverts in a Soho strip club. Anyone who would ever care to wonder where Tracy wound up was in for a sure shock. Half naked on display in a strip club. All of her moral value lost in another's eyes because desperate times call for desperate measures. It would either be amusing to some or sad for others to see what became of Tracy Quartermaine, the heiress. Her life was now dancing to tracks of hip-hop, borrowed bras and shots of vodka and whiskey. In this world you either made friends for mutual benefit and kept them or you were used again. Simple as that. Tracy had few friends. Her child's nanny and one of the girls she worked with at the club: Sam McCall.

"Don't you get tired of that?" Sam watched as Tracy downed her 3rd shot.

"Of what? Dancing or drinking?" Sam laughed.

"Why don't you ever drink something lighter? Like a margarita or something?" Tracy shook her head.

"You first timers, those fruity drinks are a waste of time and money. They do nothing to numb the senses till you're bent over, face first in a toilet."

"Don't you think Dillon's tired of smelling the vodka off your breath when you kiss him goodnight."

"That was a little harsh don't you think?"

"You can take it."

"You're not wrong about that." Sam paused, staring at her friend.

"Do you ever imagine getting out of this place?" She placed her forearms on the bar.

"Never."

"What do you mean never?"

"Because I know what's waiting on the other side for me, and that's nothing. There is no one out there for me. No family, no friends with cash, no prince on a white horse so sweep me off my feet. No one. The only way I can get out of here is by myself and so far, it's not looking so good."

"Well, I think you have a chance as well as I do?"

"You're such an opportunist. You have a much better chance at getting out of here than I do. Let's just face the fact that we are strippers in a strip club. We make single dollar bills off of grimy men who come to see a woman's body because they have no chance in hell to hold down a real relationship."

"I'll give you that one." The two friends clinked their shot glasses together and downed it. "I just wish I didn't have to imagine and I could just do it."

So I made this chapter short because it's the first one but every chapter after this will be 1000+. Please leave feedback! I dearly appreciate it! Thank you!