Dusk settled, and the lively Blaiseleek Mall remained lit up and bustling.
Flora Jones put on a snug white top, a super-short miniskirt, and matching knee-high boots with four-inch heels.
Her fresh, youthful face had just the right touch of makeup, and she occasionally checked her wristwatch.
Right at six o’clock, Flora heaved a sigh and chirped, “Clocking out.”
She bolted to the break room, swapped into casual attire, and removed her makeup. Grabbing a tissue, she vigorously wiped her face clean.
Gazing into a tall, full-length mirror, Flora’s stunning face remained expressionless. After crumpling the tissue and tossing it into a nearby trash bin, she exited the mall.
Upon reaching an aging apartment building, she trudged up several flights of shabby stairs and, upon opening the door, was welcomed by the scent of homemade food.
“Mom, I’m back.”
The apartment was a humble 430-square-foot space, minimally furnished, with white walls adorned by two handcraft knots.
Her mother, Monica Jones, appeared from the kitchen, holding two plates. “Flora, you sound tired are you OK?”
Flora sat at the table and placed her bag down. “Not really, just my legs are a bit achy.”
No surprise, after standing for eight hours daily, especially in those sky-high heels.
“Oh, Flora,” Monica sighed, setting the food before her daughter. “With your smarts, how come you can’t land a better gig?”
Flora shook her head, puzzled. “Beats me. People are all sunshine and rainbows over the phone, but the moment they see my resume, their tune changes. Some companies don’t even glance at it. They blacklist me as soon as they hear my name.”
Monica took a bite of her food, pondering, “It’s bizarre. We haven’t rubbed anyone the wrong way, right?”
Flora nodded in agreement. “I just graduated from college. Who could I have possibly ticked off?”
“Mom, we’ll get to the bottom of it. It won’t bring us down.”
Flora switched gears and casually dug into her meal, her youthful face still radiating confidence.
“I just worry about you working your fingers to the bone,” Monica said, her heart aching as she added more food to Flora’s plate. “Eat up.”
“Mom, I’m short on time. I’ve got a tutoring job tonight,” Flora said, quickly finishing her meal and snatching an apple from the table as she stood up.
“Flora, be back soon,” Monica urged, thrusting a jacket into her daughter’s hands.
“I will,” Flora replied, accepting the jacket and dashing out.
Blaiseleek City, a place celebrated as heaven on earth, was awash with neon lights and indulgence.
Money made it paradise.
Surveying the bustling streets, Flora’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile.
Ironically, her destination was Blaiseleek’s hottest nightclub—Desire.
Living up to its name, it was the epitome of opulence and decadence.
The earnings from working there were enticing, enough to keep her family afloat.
Not wanting to worry her mom, Flora claimed her evening job was tutoring, but in truth, she was slinging drinks at Desire.
She hopped on a bus and, after just a few stops, she arrived.
At the entrance of Desire, two massive golden letters loomed overhead, half engraved and half solid, casting a cold gaze upon the throngs below, ready to give in to temptation.
Inside the club, the DJ played the most energetic beats, stirring up waves of excitement on the dance floor.
Under the dim, seductive lighting, men and women danced passionately, their unfamiliar bodies escaping reality – this was a world of chaos and enchantment.
Flora changed into her uniform, picked up a wine list from the side, and saw it was for Chamber No. 1.
“Looks like there’ll be a generous tip today,” Flora thought with a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Chamber No. 1 was the only VIP room in Desire, usually occupied by elite businessmen or prominent political figures, who were known for their extravagant spending.
“Flora, being beautiful is such an asset. You get to serve Chamber No. 1 again.”
Lily, standing nearby, looked enviously at the wine list in Flora’s hand. Her makeup was extremely bold, and her figure was stunning in her tight dress.
Flora responded with a smile, picked up a tray of drinks, and headed towards Chamber No. 1.
“Hmph, what’s so special about her? When I was young, I was absolutely gorgeous!”
Lily scoffed at Flora’s retreating figure, took a few steps forward, sashayed her hips, and headed towards her assigned private room.
Flora carried the tray of drinks in one hand and gently pushed open the door with the other.
Surprisingly, the room was much quieter than the outside, showcasing impressive soundproofing.
She closed the door, took a few steps forward, and placed the drinks on the table.
Her eyes couldn’t help but dart around the room.
She crouched down, turned her head, and saw a man half-hidden in the shadows on a nearby couch, his long legs visible beneath his well-tailored suit pants.
Flora poured the prepared green tea into the wine, skillfully mixing the two.
In the tranquil private room, the only sound was the clinking of ice as she mixed the drink.
“Come here, pour a few glasses,” a man said, his eyes meeting Flora’s, his tone full of impatience.
Flora reacted promptly, lining up the glasses and pouring the mixed drink into them.
The chamber was instantly filled with a hazy mist. Flora knelt on the carpet, bowed her head, and waited for the customers’ instructions.
She thought about her uncertain rent payment next month and how these people lived lives of luxury, immersed in wealth and excess.
The guys grabbed their glasses from the table and clinked them together. Spotting Flora tilting her head to the side, one man hollered irritably, “What’s the holdup? Pour Mr. Bowles a drink.”
“Right away.” Flora picked up a glass and approached the shadowy figure in the darkness, softly saying, “Your drink, sir.”
The man uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, emerging from the shadows.
His face, lit by the light, was almost flawless. His natural air of command exuded an intangible pressure.
He emanated a frosty aura. This man possessed a cutthroat charisma that others lacked, with chiseled features and sharp eyebrows.
Dylan Bowles took the glass from Flora’s hand, their fingertips brushing, accompanied by an icy sensation.
“Mr. Bowles, another lady’s smitten by you and your fancy pants,” another man guffawed, turning to Flora, “Hey, how about spending a night with our boss?”
Flora bowed her head blankly, accustomed to the patrons’ flirtatious antics; this was old news to her.
“If you’re a pro, maybe Mr. Bowles will take you under his wing. Beats pouring drinks here,” the others joined in, snickering with frivolous tones.
Dylan whipped out his wallet, extracted a wad of bills, and in full view, stuffed them down the open neckline of Flora’s uniform.
She jerked her head up, having never faced such a client before, unsure how to react.
Dylan’s frosty fingers delved into her uniform, even grazing the edge of her bra. As he retreated, his fingertips brushed her chest, sending shudders down her spine.
“Feels quite nice; I bet they’re real,” Dylan remarked with a grin, downing the drink in his glass and fixing his eyes on Flora.
Flora bit her lower lip, a strong sense of humiliation bubbling up inside her.
She knew the cash crammed into her bra was no pittance.
At least it would cover her living expenses and rent for the coming month.
Right now, her dignity couldn’t fill her belly.
Flora managed to compose herself, and when she lifted her head again, she wore an entirely innocent smile, “Thank you.”
A fleeting hint of disdain flickered in Dylan’s dark eyes, seemingly loath to see Flora’s present smile. He handed the empty glass back to her and vanished back into the shadows.
Flora pulled out another drink and resumed mixing, the money in her uniform feeling like a searing blaze, making her incredibly uneasy.
With a forced smile, Flora filled the empty glasses one by one with the amber liquid, topped with a light foam, symbolizing worldly indulgences.
She shifted her numb knees slightly, her eyes concealing a subtle, almost imperceptible resentment.
“Knock, knock…” The door was tapped twice before opening, and the manager led several women inside, their faces brimming with ingratiating smiles.
“Mr. Bowles, these are the finest ladies from Desire, handpicked just for you today.”
He turned around, tugged one of the women forward, and nudged her a little, “Her name’s Candy, she’s new here. I guarantee she’ll be right up Mr. Bowles’ alley.”
Candy shied away a bit uneasily, but upon seeing Dylan’s face, her expression instantly softened, and she leaned towards him.
Flora held her composure, thinking that good-looking guys like him were always a hit wherever they went.
The other women giggled and picked their own targets, while the manager exited, signaling Flora with his eyes to attend to the customers well before shutting the door.
The private room was immediately filled with the men’s amorous laughter and the women’s flirtatiousness, wave after wave.
“Ah—” Candy, perched on Dylan’s lap, let out a moan that bordered on pain, her voice lingering.
Such a man was indeed a master at flirting.
Flora calmly cleared the table, stealing a sideways glance.
Candy was inexperienced, after all, and the man’s hand caressed her waist as his head burrowed deep into her neck.
The private room was awash with debauchery and corruption. Unwittingly, Flora checked her wristwatch – it was already midnight.
Desire wasn’t like other clubs; here, waitresses could leave after their assigned customers took off.
At nine in the morning, she would have to race to her mall shift. Flora lifted her delicate face and met Dylan’s intense gaze.
Flora quickly looked away, secretly thinking it should be time for them to leave.
As expected, Candy’s body moved, sliding down Dylan’s shoulder weakly.
A sense of oppression approached as Dylan stood up, his expensive suit showing no wrinkles, and the linen shirt underneath, smooth as snow.
He was so noble that people couldn’t get close.
Dylan was the first to stride out of the private room, and as he left, he shot Flora a glance.
