A/N- ok, tell me if this is worth continuing.

Disclaimer- still nothing. Hats off to JRRT and Christophe Isherwood for LOTR and 'Berlin Stories'

~*~*~*~

Jade's POV-

I raced down the sidewalk, dodging people and bicycles without so much as slowing

down. Instinctively, I dug into my messenger bag and started to crayon my lips a dark red

to match my skirt. I ran my fingers through my long black hair, and mascara- ed my

celery-green eyes. Dashing down a side ally, I rapidly picked my way through dank

streets that had not been paved in decades, if ever. I skittered to a stop in front of two

doors, each made of identical water stained, pock-marked wood, hieroglyphics from

years and years of street gangs decorating the front of each. Over the first door was a sign

that read; 'The M C Club'. The other read 'No admittance'. I pushed open the second

door quickly, and slipped inside.

"And now presenting our cabaret girls!"

Glancing apologetically at the four other girls glaring at me, I stepped into line just as the

music started.

They were my friends in this place, mainly because we didn't have anyone else. No one

knew our real names; and no one asked. Everything about the M C club was so

disgustingly seedy, so absolutely squalid, that everyone was assumed to be a crook, a

dealer or a hooker simply by knowing where the club was. Names were never, ever to be

given out; it was an unspoken rule that anyone with common sense obeyed. All the girls

were referred to by their hair color. I was Blackie. Besides me there was Blondie, Red,

P.T, and Blue. Blue was my best friend, and the one who had actually gotten me the job

here. Two years older than me, but infinitely wise beyond her years, Blue doubled as the

bartender. Red and I were indifferent; I didn't care enough about her to befriend her, and

vice versa. Blondie and I were on civil terms with each other, as she was nice, but had the

attention span of a puppy, with an IQ to match. However, P.T, which stood for Platinum,

and I hated each other. It wasn't just a petty little annoyance, either. I loathed her with

such an all consuming, never ceasing hatred, it was all I could do to stand on the stage

with her, in that vile club and not die on the spot. But I had been there at least five

months, and nothing, especially not P.T, was going to get in my way of finishing high

school. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard a filthy man to my right yell 'How much for

the entire night, Blackie?!' I said nothing, but put on my most seductive smile,

and winked at him. This was another part of the unspoken rules of being a

Showgirl. As Blue had put it to be 'Seduction is the art of having everyone want

you, but never being able to have you.'

The music increased its tempo, as did our racy dancing. I let the
music take over

my body, letting my feet fall into step, and ignoring the occasional whistle from a

drunken spectator, or the raucous cheering from the men bidding for our bodies.

At the end of the night, I was exhausted, but knew that it was all part of the deal.

It was my job. And as Blue once said 'if your going to do it may as well make an

effort. There's nothing good about a half-assed job, and being a show girl is no

exception'.