Spike on the other hand, has had only time to worry.  But it was too late for that now.  He'd showered and oiled himself.  He loosely wrapped a long robe over his body and padded off through the back passages to the executive room.<br/><br/>Inside were a number of patrons, male and female, demon and human.  He didn't have a stage, so much as a walkway.   All of them had ringside seats, and he was expected to work the room.  Let all of them have a good look, a good show.  Look but no touch.  Still the nervousness coiled inside his belly, until he shed his robe and the music started.  It's *showtime*!<br/><br/>He moved out onto the walkway, moving to the music.  Dancing, crawling, writhing, moving.  Trying to look at the customers without looking at them.  Without seeing them.  But they began to put their hands just at the edge of the walkway.  Holding cash, to entice him over so they could get a better look.  So he'd be forced to look at them, if only for a moment.  And he went.  Again and again.  The money tucked in a little pouch hanging from a string on his waist, the only thing that touched his naked body.