10:39 p.m. elsewhere
The music was blaring. She was mere feet away from the entrance and already she could hear, feel the music calling to her. She wanted to dance, needed to.
Shizuru Viola walked through the entrance of Chaos the new club that had opened recently. Dressed in club wear, she sauntered through the mass crowd, with thoughts on grabbing everyone's attention. She needed it, the attention, focused all on her. She craved it far worse than a drug. She deserved it. She was so far gone. Too far, falling into the depths of something unstable. Don't question it. Never question it.
She reaches the center, evading people as they appear. She's looking for the right spot. The perfect spot to let loose. To dance away her world. To draw in a new world, her admirers, the more the better. She's found it at last, the perfect spot. Everyone will see her, everyone will want her and she'll let go. She doesn't wait for the others to make room, to move, she just lets loose, not waiting for a parter. Not needing one. Everyone is dancing. Everyone. Those who're seated at the bar, in the booths can't resist. They sway to the beat. One by one they take notice of the siren's call. Her movements erratic, exotic, strong. No one dares to stop. They can't. The rhythm merging with her movements. They can't take their eyes off. She is the flame they seek and they are the moths. Nothing more.
She continues with her surreal movements. Loosing herself in the beat. She is the music. Her rhythm in direct correlation with the trance conquering them all. Her dance an exotic lure. They can't resist. She loves the attention. Her movements, a beautiful play, too intense to be interpretive, too alluring to be confused with such an artful form. The attention falls on her. Every inch of her. The remaining occupants taking notice of her, more than just her movements, her equally enticing body. They crave it, they crave her. The song ends, and so does her rhythmic movements. That is until she saunters to a cage. A pole at it's center. She feels them. The eyes of everyone waiting to see what she doe next. Their enrapture with her tempting body sending chills down her spine. She shouldn't be this excited.
She opens the cage door, no one's moved. No one's made a sound. Their eyes are all on her. They crave her movements. They need more. She adheres to their silent request.
Forcefully throwing the girl previously inside, she replaces her. The music at full blast she starts with her entrancing motions. Her legs encased the pole with her thighs, her calfs wrapping around the the pole at higher levels. She gives them, everyone a performance. One that could rival even professionals. She's got the men stiff and the women wet. She's such a whore, an attention whore. Even as she pulls down her incredibly short red dress she gets off on the attention. Applause echoes through the club. Even the owner is impressed. The women stare in both jealousy and arousal.
She couldn't care less. She needs release and she needs it now. She picks one from the side. Nice and tall, not bad on the eyes. Whispers in his ear to follow her outback. He follows like a lost puppy.
They stumble eager through the door. Lips crashing against lips. She's impatient and craving him inside her. She needs it, the release. He's not fast enough. No man ever seems to be to her. As they stumble to the alley floor, her thighs straddling the young man's waist as she caresses his member through the fabric of his jeans, before reaching over eagerly and pulling down the zipper. Mouth still on his, as she claims his tongue with hers. She's the dominant one. Always will be and everyone else was just their to please her. However ignorant they were to the fact, it was true.
A moan escaped her lips as he enters her. Quick and full of enthusiasm, much like a hormonal teenage boy. She briefly wondered about his age, only fleetingly, before dismissing the thought. She liked it rough, and she could tell by the man's movements that he was about to pop, as he started to slow down. She didn't like the thought. Biting down onto his throat, nails digging into his neck, she thrust against him. Moving up and down, each passing moment increasing her rhythm, her movement. Her head thrown back in ecstasy as she reached her climax. It wasn't enough she needed more. She didn't take notice of the now limp body beneath her, only standing up and straightening out her outfit. The back of her hand being used to wipe of the blood dripping from her lips from when she'd bitten the boy. She'd tore through his jugular and he'd bled out even as she came. Too wrapped up was he to notice until it was too late. He lay dead on the floor. Kneeling besides the man, she wiped her hand clean on his shirt. Stalking off into the night to find new prey willing to satisfy her, a woman perhaps? She smirked at the thought. The night was still young she'd be satisfied before the sun came up.