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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span style="font-size: 12px">~ <a class="username" data-user-id="25" data-username="@Nevermind" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/25/">@Nevermind</a> &amp; <a class="username" data-user-id="26" data-username="@Ninjanerd" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/26/">@Ninjanerd</a> ~</span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 18px">Until we have seen someone's darkness we don't truly know who they are. <br/>
Until we have forgiven them for their darkness, we don't truly know what love is.</span><br/>
<br/>
x - x - x - x - x<br/>​</div><div style="text-align: left">Yassine Mohsen's deep red calfskin leather dress shoes weren't meant for the weather. Oh, they certainly were well made, and a little rainwater splattering against them as he walked along the too familiar path toward Abyss undoubtedly wasn't going to do them any permanent damage. Even if it did, it wasn't as if Yassine couldn't wave his wallet in some nervous sale girl's face to get himself another pair of oxford dress shoes he could lace onto his narrow feet. He couldn't remember the brand of the specific strips of leather adorning his southernmost appendages, though he <i>could</i> recall the price tag: $645. Before sales tax. Hugo Boss? That sounded familiar; he had often found the designer name rather hilarious. It was overtly masculine and pompous at the same time, perhaps descriptors his subordinates might attribute to him, though Yassine didn't consider himself the macho type.<br/>
<br/>
It was 11:03PM on a Friday night, and as usual for the day and hour, warm bodies filled the sidewalks, scurrying from one location to the next. Eager to find shelter from the rain, pedestrians huddled underneath awnings as they awkwardly pulled out their umbrellas, while those who had failed to plan accordingly pulled their coats tightly around their bodies, hiked up their collars and rushed along the sidewalk, weaving through throngs of partiers, drinkers, and those just looking for a good time. Yassine was among neither group; instead, he moved deliberately past all the ill-prepared humans, simple black umbrella over his shoulder. He could have made the walk from his penthouse with his eyes closed. He had done it a thousand times and would likely do it a thousand more for he never liked to be away from the club for more than a week at the most, assuming he didn't have other business to take care of.<br/>
<br/>
If asked, a random passerby on the street might call Yassine's pride and joy, Abyss, a strip club. They wouldn't have been entirely wrong. It was a club, and entertainers did take off their clothes for patrons. But Yassine didn't like to use such simple terminology. A gentleman's club didn't sound right, either. It was classier, maybe, but didn't project the entirety of what Abyss truly was. Yassine's handpicked entertainers didn't just consist of a collection of beautiful painted women, twirling around a pole for men in business suits (though there was plenty of that), but Yassine also employed a rather impressive amount of male dancers, as well. Catering to rich straight men and women as well as gay men and women, Yassine liked to consider his club an "exotic indulgence," including dancers and entertainers of all kinds to keep his clients happy and his pockets full.<br/>
<br/>
The line to get into Abyss that night stretched down the sidewalk and wrapped around the corner, men and women all dressed up in expensive-looking attire as Yassine enforced a strict dress code in order to enter his club. It wasn't uncommon for patrons to regularly spend hundreds, even thousands of dollars during one night enjoying the tantalizing entertainers that waltzed across Abyss' numerous stages. Yassine grinned, his stubbly, handsome face conveying obvious pleasure that tonight would be just as satisfying as he had hoped.<br/>
<br/>
Though there was a back entrance for employees and VIP clients, Yassine often liked to enter through the front door, showing himself off to the crowd and letting it be known that Abyss and all its successes was <i>his</i>. He strode up to the velvet ropes, one of his most loyal bouncers on duty at the front door in his classic black suit.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">"Mr. Mohsen, welcome,"</span> Johann said, nodding his head respectfully to his employer as he unhooked the red line and let the man pass. Yassine patted the giant man on his broad, overly muscular shoulder and jerked his head toward the door.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300"> "You see the schedule, Johann?"</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">"Yessir."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"Maverick here tonight?"</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">"Yessir. I think he's performing soon."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#59b300">"Excellent. Be well, Johann."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#4da6ff">"Yessir."</span><br/>
<br/>
Yassine slid through the doors like water passing through a crack on the wall, seamlessly, smoothly and with little effort. He left his heavy crimson overcoat and his umbrella with the coat girl, Sandy, knowing she would take care of his belongings or share the same fate as the last coat girl who had dared to misplace Yassine's favorite wool jacket.<br/>
<br/>
The light inside of the club was low, allowing the crowd a small amount of anonymity while the focus was all on center stage. A gorgeous young woman with caramel colored skin and jet black wavy hair was slowly swirling around a pole, her legs hooked around the metal as she hung upside down, her body stretching long and elegant toward a man who held out a folded bill, vying for her attention. Valentina stretched out her fingers, her painted pink nails sparkling underneath the lights as she plucked the bill from the man's fingers and slipped it into the strap of her g-string. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Yassine knew she must be close to ending her set due to her state of undress. Valentina was beautiful, but she wasn't his favorite flavor.<br/>
<br/>
Yassine's wallet was filled to bursting with hundred dollar bills he was ready to unload onto his personal pet, a male dancer hired some time ago by Abyss' manager. Yassine had yet to speak to the dancer directly, and he wasn't entirely sure if the entertainer even knew who Yassine was or that he owned the club, but he had grown quite fond of the young man after watching him for weeks, admiring his talent and coveting his unique, urban beauty. A personal client of Yassine's had reached out to him the day before, inquiring about obtaining a male for an intimate party he was throwing Saturday night. Yassine had a gut feeling that his favorite dancer would be perfect for the gig, and if his suspicions about Maverick's <i>full</i> abilities were correct, he'd be able to keep the client happy in more ways than one.<br/>
<br/>
Yassine ordered himself a martini, on the house of course, though he still tipped the bartender well, and made his way to the stage as a now fully nude Valentina sidled away and her tips were collected. The music began to change and the lights shifted, illuminating a new stage where another dancer would soon appear. Yassine took his place at the front, knowledgeable clients moving aside to let Yassine take his favorite seat while he eagerly awaited the next performance, hoping it would be Maverick coming to fire up his blood.​</div><div style="text-align: center"><br/>
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