"Kevin!" Demi called as she found him in the living room. "I'm going to work."

"Okay, have fun."

"Yeah right, like the night shift is ever fun." They kissed before she headed out the door.

As she drove off, she felt bad as always for never telling her boyfriend where she was really going. Yes she was going to work like she said, but that's where the truth ended. She had told him that she works at a clothes store, when really that wasn't true. But she was afraid to tell him where she really worked for fear of losing respect from him. After all, she lived in a tiny apartment with a job that barely supports her, so she needed to be with him so she wouldn't end up in total desolation. Since the economy is so bad and no one is hiring, it's not like she could just find another. And going back to school was out of the question because she completed four years of undergrad as a dance major, again leaving her without a desirable diploma and no money.

When she finally arrived she entered through the back door. She walked inside, greeted by the other girls who worked with her while she changed into her costume and put on her makeup. She had walked into the dressing room as Demi, but as soon as she steps into the crowd, she would be her alter ego, Esmeralda. She had chosen the name Esmeralda since her favorite movie as a kid was Hunchback of Notre Dame, and not only did Esmeralda look like an older version of herself, but after seeing Esmeralda dance she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, which is why she devoted her life to dancing.

As soon as she stepped out, she was surrounded with flashing lights and sleazy men who groveled all over the other dancers like her. Demi walked onto the stage and danced around the pole as men cheered her on, throwing money at her. While she did love the attention and doing the thing she loved, she always hated herself for getting it this way.

As she walked away, a man approached her. "Esmeralda." She looked over at him. "There you are."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"No, but I know you." He must be a regular customer, she thought. It seemed like the only logical solution for not being creeped out. "How much would it cost for me to get a private dance from you?"

"However much you've got. And remember, the more you pay, the better the experience."

"Will this suffice?" he asked pulling out a fifty. Demi reached for the bill but he pulled it away. "No. Dance first, and then I'll pay."

"I'm sorry, but it doesn't work that way. I get my money up front. Pay now, or no dance." He reluctantly lowered his arm as she pulled the bill out of his hand and stuffed it to her side. "Let's go."

The man grabbed her by the wrist and led her to a private room where she danced for him. If there was anything she hated more than dancing at the pole, it was these personalized dances, especially since the customers tended to be older and/or creepy. Either way they were all pathetic losers who wouldn't be caught dead with a girlfriend, which is why they go to the club to satisfy their needs.

When she was done she was about to head out when he grabbed her again. "What are you doing? I've done my job."

"There's something else I want you to do for me."

"What?" she demanded frustrated and impatiently.

"How much would it cost for me to buy you for the night?"

"Oh no, I don't do that."

"Why do I get the impression that you're lying to me?"

"Look buddy, just because I'm a dancer doesn't mean I'm a prostitute. This is a dance club, not a brothel. I would never allow myself to sink so low as to sell my body to creeps like you."

"Oh really? How do you explain the last ten minutes? Did I not pay you to use your body to provide me pleasure?"

"That's different! I'm not going to have sex with you!"

"Then you leave me with no choice."

He pulled her in tightly, one hand around her wrists while the other arm wrapped around her body so that she was pressed up against him. "Let me go!"

She could see that by raising her voice, he was starting to get worried about attention being called to him. "Shut up!" he shouted as he slapped her across the face, knocking her to the ground.

"You son of a…" Before she could finish her sentence, he grabbed her by the neck, forcing a handkerchief to her mouth. Suddenly she began to black out.

When she woke up, she looked down to see that instead of her costume, she was now wearing a plain white dress. She was down on her knees surrounded by logs, her arms and waist tied around another log attached to the ground. She tried to stand up, but the space she was in was too tight. Oh my god, she thought. I'm in a fireplace.

Suddenly a black robe stood before her before the owner of the robe crouched down so that they were face to face. She gasped when she saw the man from the club wearing a black triangular hat with a red veil in the back holding a burning torch.

"The time has come gypsy. You stand on the brink of the abyss, yet even now it is not too late. I can save you from the flames of this world and the next. Choose me, or the fire!" Demi spit in his face, giving a look of absolute hatred. Without a moment of hesitation he lit the logs on fire, smiling wickedly as she burned alive.