Amaranthe flexed her wings several times, stretching them out before pulling them back to her body, letting the last remnants of the tape fall away. It was almost amusing that no-one beleived they were real, or at least not until it was too late. She walked out among the dancers, under the hot lights and began to move to the thumping baseline, her body heating, the tape slowly falling off her. She drew more and more gazes from the men around her, she knew, just knew she now had her pick.<br/><br/>So, she did<br/><br/>She ended up choosing a well muscled guy, with visable scars down his arms and tattoo's crawling up his neck. His whole demeanour was of a thug, a tough. He was proably affiliated with a local gang, not that Amaranthe cared. All she cared about was in his pants and pumping through his veins. She blew a kiss to him and began to walk upto the booths on the upper level, dark enough to let her do as she wanted without attracting too much attention too early.