"Natalia, what the fuck was that? You look like a damn amateur out there. I don't pay you to flop around like some sort of dying prostitue. Get your shit together or get the fuck out of my club!" Natalia put one hand on her hip, giving the shouting man a cold glare until he turned and stomped off to release a fresh wave of rage at somebody else. His wife had been caught cheating.. again. No big surprise there. Evan was fat, ugly, and his temper was shorter than his dick.. and from the rumors in the club, that was nearly impossible. Still, he was her boss. She made a face at his back as soon as he turned around, then huffed and walked off to get dressed. The sun was up and that meant the business was shutting down. "Just ignore him, Nat. He's an idiot," another girl piped up when Natalia strolled into the dressing room. The girl was the closest thing to a friend the Russian stripper had. Big, sparkling green eyes peered out from a sea of black curls and cheerful pink lips. It was as though the girl oozed optimism. If not for her attitude, Natalia would have hated her immensely, but Lily had proven herself a force to be reckoned with when she punched a man in the face and broke his nose the very first night she had danced. "I know. Cocksucker," Natalia agreed, half smiling. She didn't bother stripping out of her black stockings or her corset, instead pulling a dress on over it. The low cut front showed off part of the black silk corset, standing in stark contrast to the light grey satin and ivory lace of the dress. Because her undergarments were so dark, they were easily seen beneath the dress, but she didn't care. She slid a long rosary on over her neck and flipped her messy blonde hair over one shoulder. Good enough. She had a date to meet and she was already running late thanks to Evan's little episode. "See you tonight," she muttered to Lily, getting a cheerful wave in return as she left out the back door. She walked outside, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the tattered grey bag that hung from her shoulder. Smoking was a disgusting habit, but it took the edge off when she was itching for a hit. Right now she was on her way to meet a dealer, so she had to be patient. Somewhat. She took a drag and relaxed, her black heels clicking on the pavement as she started her walk. Time to put those tips to good use. She smirked at the thought and exhaled, blowing the smoke in a lazy ring. The good people of the world passed her by, walking with purpose in their business suits and pretty skirts. She got several looks, some angry and some lustful, but she ignored them all. As if they had more right to be here than she did. "Americans," she breathed, rolling her eyes. After ten years in the states, her accent was not as thick, but still quite obvious. She took another drag off the cancer stick in her fingers, turning down the street where she was supposed to meet up with her dealer. Well.. one of them, at least.