RIVER'S PERSPECTIVE

The time vortex manipulator dropped me off in a shady alleyway, right off the main strip. "I've really got to upgrade," I mumbled as I fixed my hair in a storefront window. I stepped out of the shadows and into a bustling crowd. The city of Las Vegas towered over me in the blistering morning sunlight. I'd never been to Vegas before… always wanted to visit and, well, here I am. I just wish it were under different circumstances.

I spotted a young man reading the morning paper as he made his way hurriedly through the crowd. He didn't stop to apologize to anyone he bumped into, but he did turn his head to ogle the asses of young women as they passed.

After undoing the top few buttons on my blouse, I strutted up to him, seized the paper from his grip, asked, "Mind if I borrow this?"

I gazed hungrily at the young man and bit down on my lip until he replied, "It's all yours."

As expected, his eyes didn't leave my chest for a moment- and he watched me as I walked away, I noticed, as I turned to say "Thank you" over my shoulder.

Men.

I strolled into a little café by the imitation Eiffel Tower and immediately removed my coat. I glanced at the front page of the paper- "109 Degrees Fahrenheit," it read. That's nearly 43 Celsius! No wonder my skin felt like it was on fire.

I'm definitely not in England anymore, I sighed.

Blinded, I turned away from the intense summer sun and put my shades on. I poured a bit of ice-cold water into the palm of my hand and massaged the back of my neck with it to help cool me off. Then I fished out an ice cube and held it near my collarbone, rubbing it slowly across my bare skin. I rolled my eyes with a smirk, bemused by every single male in the café, whose eyes were all suddenly fixated on me. The cube melted disappointingly fast, however, so I finished drinking the rest of my water and went back to reading the paper.

"Another Woman Missing," was the headline that caught my attention. The article explained that there was a string of disappearances among women, and it had been random for quite some time. The first few were taken right off street corners. Then one of the stars from the Sirens of TI show went missing. The next few were last seen at clubs. And after that, women were taken from several different strip clubs, until one spot became a recurring target. Over the course of the last five nights, four dancers had gone missing from the Lovely Ladies Gentleman's Club, adding up to a grand total of eighteen disappearances. Unfortunately, there was still no connection that tied the women together.

Their heights ranged from 4"8 to 5"7. There were blondes, brunettes, and redheads. Some of theme came from money, but most of them were dirt-poor. To further confusion, the kidnapper had been described in numerous different ways. Some witnesses called him buff, others called him slender; some said he had a moustache, others said he was bald and clean-shaven. Not even his skin color could be agreed upon! "We're either dealing with a master of disguise, or a dozen of men," the article read. "If you have any information regarding who could be behind these disappearances, please notify the police immediately."

I lowered the paper and pursed my lips, rereading the information. The first idea that came to my mind was shape shifting, of course. I'd never personally met a shifter before, but- considering all the creatures I had met before- I wouldn't overlook the possibility. Though the article seemed to discredit the varied observations of witnesses, a shape-shifter could fit all of their descriptions perfectly. But other than that hunch, the only lead I had to go off of was the Lovely Ladies Gentleman's Club.

I left behind the morning paper, grabbed the coat off the back of my chair, and was on my way to do a little digging for myself. I asked around until I finally made my way to the gentleman's club, which was still closed for another few hours. With basic lock picking skills, however, I was in.

Everything seemed to be perfectly normal for a strip club: in the dead center of the room was a long rectangular stage with chairs gathered closely around it, the bar was tucked away in a corner, and a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol stirred in the air. In the back, hallways were marked "VIP" and "Dancers Only" - and damn, those looked tempting.

First thing's first, though. I went straight to the bar and eyed my options. Not a great selection, but what else was I expecting from a club that was tucked away so far from the strip? I poured myself a shot from the nearest bottle and downed it immediately. That was pleasant, I thought flippantly as I made a face in disgust.

I then headed down the VIP hallway, which led me to a room filled with dark purple curtains dividing up the area so guests could receive private lap dances and other private shows. Nothing out of place there either- just the usual selection of handcuffs, whip cream, paint, and whips.

I scoped out the building for nearly an hour, inspecting every inch of the place, rummaging behind counters, and even going through paperwork. It came to my attention that this search was getting me absolutely nowhere. I had to get on the inside. If I was going to find out who or what was behind all this, I was going to have to have a little chat with the manager, meet the girls, and observe the crowd- which could only mean one thing…

I downed another shot of whiskey before scanning the room and making my way over to the stereo, turning the volume up high. I hummed mindlessly along to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and tucked my hands into my coat pockets as I ventured up onto the stage. I placed my hands on one of the poles and was surprised to notice that a devilish smile had crept onto my face.

Flashbacks to what Mother called my "rebellious phase" popped into my head. After she and Rory started dating, I was immediately left behind. That was incredibly hard for me, but I knew they had to fall in love so I could exist in the first place. But it meant I no longer had a reason to behave or to put up a front of any sort, so I dropped out of uni- and for the first time ever, mum wasn't waiting for me on the way out. I went somewhere I couldn't be alone- bars, clubs, parties… but when I noticed the only person there I cared about was myself, I took up pole dancing. Once I mastered that, I took up self-defense and became a regular at a gun range… and then I met the Doctor.

I dropped my coat from my shoulders, tussled my hair, and started to get into the music. I slipped off the black dress I had on and tossed it onto one of the chairs. I looked down and admired the red and black corset and black lace knickers I'd had on. I always knew wearing suggestive lingerie would come in handy some day… but I admit, I thought it'd be more of a private show for the Doctor and me.

I climbed to the top of the pole and wound my legs around it. I let my arms fall and my body arched along with it. Dangling at the top, I breathed a sigh of relief as I didn't go crashing to the floor. Still got it, I thought.

I let myself fall, catching myself with my hands, and rolled away from the poll, only to get right back on. I worked the pole with every trick "Mel" once had mastered. I practiced my moves for an hour or so, dancing to one raunchy song after another. I then slipped on my trench coat to cover up and took a seat at the bar, crossing one leg over the other. I treated myself to another glass to help me unwind, but after one small taste, there was a rustling at the door.

A man came in, tucking his keys in his back pocket as he shuffled in. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, he was on the shorter side, and he was a bit plump; he had glasses, dark brown hair, and a 5 o'clock shadow. He hung up his coat with a groan, turned towards his bar, and jumped nearly five feet high at the sight of me.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How'd you get in here?"

"The name's River Song," I smiled coyly. "And you should really learn to lock your doors."

He glanced back at the door he'd just come through, bewildered- as if he was telling himself he was sure he'd locked it. "And, uh, what're you doing in my club, Ms. Song?" he asked, brushing down his suit.

"Well," I said, sauntering towards him. "I heard you were low on dancers, and I thought I'd work here. I'm great on the pole and I mastered lap dancing when I was fifteen. Not to mention…" I slid the trench coat off in one swift motion as I added, "I've got the looks."

His folded his arms across his chest and held back a smile, "I can see that."

"But," I said as I picked up my coat, "Seeing how little you protect your employees- leaving the door unlocked and all- if that's any indication to the treatment I'll be getting here, I think I'll take my business elsewhere."

I moved for the door, but it didn't take more than two steps for the man to reach out and get ahold of my arm, frantically saying, "No, no- don't!"

I turned back around, looking skeptically down at him. "Go on, then."

"I'm sorry- look, we never leave the door unlocked. It's probably my fault- I swear I remember locking it up last night- there's just been so much going on… We could really use the help."

"Can I start tonight?" I asked

"Did you bring your own music?"

"I'm sure anything you've got will do."

"And you said you have moves?"

"Darling, I've got more moves up my sleeve than any of your girls, I guarantee it. And before you even ask,I am very flexible."

He shook his head, pleased. "Welcome to the Lovely Ladies."

I'm in, I thought. That was easy.