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Our eyes light up,

We have no shame at all.

Well, you know what I'm talkin' about.

Lampshades on Fire by Modest Mouse

Chapter 2

Elena Gilbert was late. And not in the oh-crap-I'm-pregnant way. It was along the lines of oh-crap-I'm-going-to-lose-my-interview way. After rushing to the bank at nine to transfer money to Jeremy, she had to write out a check for her rent and drop it off at her apartment building.

Looking down at her watch, she cursed. It was already ten thirty and she knew it would take at least a half hour to make it to the club in time. She hopped in her car and threw on her seatbelt before flooring it.

She had to make this interview. If she didn't, she'd be homeless.

"All right, all right. Where's the girl? And remind me again why I'm doing this?"

Damon chuckled at his brother's lack of enthusiasm, "You're doing this, Stefan, because Enzo is out of town and I'd really really like your opinion on this girl."

"Well, she's late," Stefan tutted, tapping his fingers impatiently against the table, "And that's not a great first impression."

"I'm sure you'll love her. All the men seem to," Damon wagged his eyebrows suggestively as he took a swig of the Bourbon in his glass.

Ignoring his brother's brooding, Damon looked down at his watch. Sure enough, the girl was late, but only by a few minutes. He had to factor in different clocks and times and just assume that she was running on time by her standard.

Since last night, he had unsuccessfully thought of anything but her. She just had this way about her that screamed confidence, yet she was still so innocent. It was a heavenly and refreshing combination.

Suddenly, the door to the club burst open and the girl of the hour scurried inside.

"I'm so sorry!" She huffed, clearly out of breath, "I got here a few minutes ago, but it was practically impossible to find a parking space and I had to-"

"You live in New York and you own a car?" Stefan asked skeptically, interrupting her story.

She fumbled as she took of her jacket, "Well, yeah. I'm not from here and having a car is just practical. And you are?"

Stefan bit back a grin as he stood and extended his hand, "Stefan Salvatore. Pleased to meet you."

"I haven't even told you my name yet," she snorted, "I might end up being your worst nightmare."

"Kitten has claws," Damon muttered amused to his glass as Stefan withdrew his hand.

She gave him a dirty look before taking her seat at the table, "Anyway, sorry I'm late."

"It's fine, completely understandable," Stefan said, waving away her apologies.

Damon cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering why he was suddenly so understanding after he bitched about her tardiness.

"Well, moving along," Damon prompted, "We're here to talk business," at Elena's nod he continued, "I can offer you twenty-five an hour and six nights a week. You keep all your tips and provide your own outfits. You'll have your own space backstage, but I recommend you take your things home every night, I don't like dealing with the possibility of stealing."

Elena nodded in understanding as she played with the hem on her shirt. She was only making ten at Klaus' club, but then again she only worked five nights a week.

"So? Is that acceptable?" Damon asked, hoping that she would agree.

She shook her head slightly, "Sixty an hour, five days a week, and at least two weekends of a month."

Damon smirked; she was playing with the king of negotiating, "Fifty an hour, five days a week, and one weekend off a month."

"Perfect," she smiled, her eyes alight with playfulness.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes, "How much was Klaus paying you?"

"Not that much," she said with a smile.

"I like her," Stefan smirked after Elena left.

Damon sighed, "Just keep it in your pants until she's been here for a few weeks, okay? She's literally the best girl I've found in New York. She's even better than Katherine."

"Better than Kat? Ha! I'll have to see that to believe it," Stefan laughed, "But don't you dare let Kat hear you say that. She thinks she's the best in the business."

"She was," Damon admitted, "But an eighteen year-old is trumping her in every single way. Elena's body is literally perfect."

Stefan smiled widely, "I can't wait for tonight. Save me a front row seat."

Elena's body was alight with nerves. She'd only ever danced at one other club and here she was smack dab in the middle of the most prestigious club in New York.

She walked over to an empty station and set out her makeup. Grabbing one of her brushes, she set to work on making her face look like a masterpiece.

"So, you're the new girl, right?" A voice came from behind her.

Turning around, she plastered a fake smile on her face, "Yeah, I'm Elena."

The woman in front of her was gorgeous. Her chestnut hair hung in ringlets and her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown. All in all, she looked a lot like Elena, but something about the girl was different, crueler.

"I'm Katherine. But everyone calls me Kat," the girl said, extending her hand.

Elena shook her hand, "It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure. I'm a legend around here," Katherine said, laughing, "I think we'll get along just fine. I just wouldn't go after the Salvatores if I were you."

"Oh?" Elena's eyes widened at her words, "Why not?"

Katherine's smile became malicious as she leaned closer to Elena, "Because they're mine," she hissed before turning on her heel and walking to the dressing rooms.

"Okay, crazy pants," Elena muttered to herself, wondering what the hell just happened.

"Is there an Elena here?" A man called behind her.

She groaned and turned around, not wanting another awkward encounter with someone she didn't know. She raised her hand, "That's me."

"Oh, okay," the man said, rushing over to her with a bouquet of roses in her hand, "These were left at the bar for you. Good luck tonight."

She blushed as she took the flowers. No one knew about her new job and the flowers left a slight uneasiness in her stomach.

Brushing off her nerves, she went and got changed into one of her favorite outfits, a sure moneymaker. Her corset was made of a deep crimson silk while her shorts would be considered practically underwear. She paired the ensemble with black five inch heels that made her legs go on for days.

She could do this. This was better than working at a crappy club and hardly getting paid. Hopefully her first night wouldn't be her last.

Damon and Stefan sat in the front row, assessing all the dancers and taking notes on how each of them could improve. Some of the girls were newer, like Elena, and didn't have the experience of working the stage like they should. However, others just needed to invest in new outfits or work on their routines.

As soon as Katherine was announced, the men in the crowd went wild. She pranced around the stage and grabbed every bill that was offered to her, yet she was topless within minutes. She didn't make the men work for it anymore; she was all too pleased to rip off whatever flimsy bustier she was wearing.

Damon had to look away from her nudity. He'd seen it too many times and the appeal for fake boobs only went so far. When he hired her, she had never been under the knife in her life. But within months of working there, she was in and out of plastic surgery so often it seemed normal.

"Damn, isn't her body great?" Stefan asked in awe as he watched Katherine work the pole.

Damon snorted, "Natural is always better, brother. If it's more than a handful or a mouthful, it's wasteful."

"Don't let Enzo hear you say that," Stefan chastised, "He loves girls that look like Kat."

"He loves blondes. Katherine's got the body, not the hair."

Stefan merely shrugged his shoulders and continued ogling Katherine's body.

Damon wrote down suggestions for Katherine's routine, hoping that this time she would actually make the suggested changes. She always had such an attitude, thinking that that she always knew what was best.

When he heard Elena's stage name announced, his head snapped up so fast it was almost comical.

There she was, the darkest little angel he'd ever seen in his life. Her heels clacked against the stage in perfect time to the music and her body exuded such an air of confidence.

"Is that Elena?" Stefan turned to Damon, his eyes nearly bugging out of his skull.

"You bet."

The way her hips moved nearly drove Damon insane. She was a perfect performer; working all aspects of the stage and making sure no one felt left out as she danced. He could tell that she was making way more than Katherine as the men kept offering up more and more money.

When she finally whipped her corset off, the men nearly lost their minds. Those little shorts she wore left little to the imagination, but Damon didn't want to imagine. He wanted the real thing.

Before he knew it, her set was over and she collected the dropped money before she headed backstage once more.

"Yeah, she's a hell of a lot better than Kat," Stefan admitted, "Maybe natural is better."

Damon swallowed, trying to get the imagine of her naked body out of his head, "Everything's better when it comes to her, Stefan. Everything."

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~Grace