It was a night not unlike any other. It was late, the club was full, and the men just kept coming. Padme Amidala had worked as a waitress at the Outlander since she could pass for an eighteen year old. Nobody cared how old you were as long as you knew what you were doing. When passing out drinks to men who always grabbed her ass got old, Padme decided that something needed to change. It was obvious why men lusted after her; she had chocolate brown eyes that could penetrate anyone's gaze; long brunette hair which fell to the small of her back in long, tied back, waves; a large chest with cleavage, accentuated by her plunging tops; and an ass that just begged to be touched. While most women felt as though such assets were a curse, Padme knew exactly how to make them work for her.
At the age of 18 she had decided to become a prostitute. She was already being felt up by all the men (and some women) who passed through the club. Why not put a price on it? Her boss thought it was an excellent idea and promptly added her to his harem. Along with 6 other girls, Padme worked whenever there was someone to pay, and with all of the senators and other rich beings from the surface (or other worlds) someone always had some cash to spend. And Padme wasn't cheap. The nice thing about having such a well-off clientele was that Padme was able to make the demands she wanted. At twenty-five hundred credits a pop, Padme liked to believe that she had it made.
That night, a senator from another world had been visiting Coruscant on a diplomatic venture when he decided to spend the night enjoying the Coruscant night life. After hearing about the Outlander from a friend, he decided to see someone in particular. His friend had told him about "The Angel" and his curiosity got the best of him. Next thing he knew, he was traveling down to the underworld.
"Can you please tell me where I might find the Outlander?" he had asked.
"Sure thing bud, two blocks straight ahead, then turn right. Keep going until you see the sign. It's hard to miss."
Doing as the man had directed, the young senator soon found himself standing in front of the biggest night club he had ever seen. The place had video screens everywhere. On each screen was a game playing from a different world. Passing a table of Sabaac, he thought to order a drink to help him wind down from a busy day at the senate. The noise around him was so loud that the club seemed like an impossible place to carry on a conversation, though he assumed that no one ever came to the Outlander just to talk.
After ordering some sort of local drink the bartender had suggested to him, the senator made his way over to one of the Twi'lek dancers that stood on the stage. "Excuse me, darling. But does the name "Angel" sound familiar to you?" The young blue Twi'lek must have been under eighteen, but she certainly knew how to use a pole. She held her body snugly to a metallic bar secured between the ceiling and the stage. It seemed to make her taller than she really was, but maybe it was just the stiletto heels. "Depends who's asking," she smiled almost too innocently as she spun around the pole with the greatest of ease. With her back facing him, she straddled the pole and bent her knees; sliding down low with displayed perfectly for his view.
Quickly pulling out a couple of credits, the senator tucked the change into her skimpy lingerie before she straightened herself back out. Now facing him again, she began to lazily twirl around the pole, her hands barely grasping the metallic cylinder. "I've heard of her. She works here most nights." The senator was growing impatient at the nonchalant and annoyingly brief answers the girl kept providing. He soon realized that every bit of information had a price. He dug more credits out of his pocket and slapped it onto the stage as she casually swung down to reach it. Sweeping up the money and tucking into her top, the girl smirked. "She's working tonight. But I have to warn you, you're not the only one who wants to see her. Talk to the big man behind the bar. He's the one you need to see." The girl went back to swaying her hips to the music as if the conversation had never taken place. With the information he needed, the senator made a beeline to the bar again.
A droid buzzed by him, quickly offering his drink with some excuse about being slow. Downing the drink in one shot, he walked straight up to the man and slammed his drink down on the counter. "Would you like another drink, sir?" The man seemed polite enough, but the senator had no time for pleasantries. "Where's Angel? I want to arrange a night with her."
"Well, you've certainly come to the right place. You're in luck. She just got done with her last client and she's free for the rest of the night. She's supposed to be getting off work right about now, but I'll make you a deal. Four-thousand credits and I'll get you in."
The senators jaw nearly dropped at this man's demands. He only had one last night on Coruscant and he was determined to sleep with "The Angel" before he left.
"Fuck you! I'll pay three-thousand. She can't be that good."
"I'm telling you man, she's done for the night. If you want to see her, you have to pay the price."
"Tell her that I'm a senator and I'll only be here for tonight."
The man let out a hearty laugh that brought red to the senators' face. He couldn't believe this pimp wasn't taking him seriously. "You wouldn't be the first one," the barman said, "that's for sure."
"Okay, one-thousand then if senators are as common as you say."
The man leaned over the bar and grinned before gloating, "Angel's slept with kings before, but I'll take the three-thousand."
Reaching for the earpiece used for communication amongst the employees, the barman muttered something into the built-in microphone before turning around. He seemed to be having some sort of a dispute before he whipped back around. Reaching out for the credits, the barman grinned as he received his payment. "Down the hallway. Room 5."
