For Bill - Dated to Saturday

Rachel's had a bad itch underneath her skin all week. She's promised Brooke, though. No more. She figures it's probably not that hard to find drugs in this place but if she can't manage to promise herself, at least she can promise Brooke. Her hands slide down the poll as she leans backwards, pulsating in time with the slow grind of the music.

There are other ways to get what she needs, though, if she could just find someone. Getting what she wants has never been a real problem, till now. Gay, gay, taken, gay and taken, she notes as her eyes scan the room. She doesn't care what Brooke with her two hot boyfriends saw, it's sexual hell around here. As the song increases in tempo she hooks a leg around the poll swinging around as she drags her nails across her bra, catching slightly on the glittering, red rhinestones. The clothes box thinks she's a whore. She can't really argue as the stuff she gets is perfect for the job.

Something, or someone catches her eye as she starts to slow down, now stripped just down to a G-string and bra and she whips around to take a second look. Red hair, muscles, and she could have sworn he took another look. She grabs her discarded clothes and moves backstage, throwing them into her box as she makes her way back out to the front, hair tousled and boobs pushed up. She's a woman on a mission. Technically, she's probably supposed to be offering lap dances, but surely offering a customer an extremely private dance is the same thing. Even if this guy might actually be staff. She spots a flash of red hair and makes her way over, pleased that the guy is actually cute.

"Hi," she murmurs, sidling up to him. "I'm Rachel."