Izaya Orihara.
This isn't how he expected his life would turn out when he finally graduated Raira High and moved on to go to one of the top colleges in the country. What he expected was success. What he expected was to finally be above every one of his beloved humans. To rule over them, manipulate them, bend them all to his will. He wanted to get the highest degree in human psychology and use that knowledge to move himself through the underground as an informant, THE informant that every low life and thug would throw their money and secrets at. Move through the branches of the Yakuza like a snake, leaving his own trail of poison along the way without a trace.
What he didn't expect was to fall in with the wrong groups in that college. To be completely cut off from his families wealth and support. To be neck deep in debt and on multiple hit lists with every gang in the surrounding area. And after losing his scholarships and funding, he never expected to have to come back home- maybe not Ikebukuro but the nearby city of Shinjuku.
He was left with no job, no good reputation to start working off, living in a small dingy studio apartment right outside the slums of the city. What he mostly didn't expect was the job choice he was currently getting ready for right now.
He lets out a defeated sigh as the sound of upbeat tempos pound from the speakers upfront and in no way muffled by the changing room he was currently in. He rolls up the soft fishnet stockings over his thin and smoothed thighs and attaching it to the black garter belt hanging high up on his hips and flattening out the matching laced boy shorts that were almost too small to cover his most private of areas and left at least half of his pale round ass poking out from under them. The leather waist clincher was tightened around him, squeezing his lithe body inward to give off more of a curve and define his hips. His chest covered by a matching laced bralette that did very little to cover him, not that it would matter because most of this was coming off in a matter of moments anyways.
He sat in his chair in front of the vanity mirrors he shared with the other men and women that worked here- applying the soft grays to his eyelids, the smokey look making his deep red eyes pop and look mysterious and a simple lip glossed added to his lips for effects. Lastly, he leans down and buckles the straps to his black heels, giving himself one last look into the full length mirror leading out to the stage out front.
He sighs, a nod of approval at his efforts and admiring his work before its taken away in a moment. His chosen music starts to pound through the speakers and with one last glance in the mirror, he masks his face with a sexy and daring smirk before walking out into the lights.
How did my life become this mess...
