The job offer had been a welcome relief, even if Irina knew that she would have to jump through some hoops to get it.  She wasn't yet well known enough to get work on her reputation alone.  To make matters worse, after she had broken a photographer's hand for being a bit too touchy feely, she'd found most of her work dry up.  It had been a month since her last modeling job, and her supposed fixer had yet to provide any illicit work.  She was bored, she was frustrated, and she was worried about her bank balance.<br/><br/>Irina had spent an hour getting her hair and make-up just right.  Her lips were the perfect shade of red.  Her skin looked naturally perfect without looking painted.  Her hair was perfectly placed to conceal the trodes strategically placed around her skull.  A dedicated make-up artist probably could have done it faster, but probably not better.  She chose a little black dress to wear, something sexy but not slutty.  It was skin tight and covered her from mid-thigh to just above her breasts.  It showed some of her chest, but not much in the way of cleavage.  The shoulders left most of her arms bare, and she had thrown on a pair of flesh-coloured thigh-high stockings for good measure.  A pair of black high-heels and a designer handbag completed the ensemble.  Into her handbag she tossed her Cougar Fineblade, her Beretta 101T with a pair of loaded clips, and her comlink.  It never hurt to be prepared.<br/><br/>The Honda-GM 3220 looked new, with its sleek red paint and perfect interior.  But that was rather a lie.  Irina had bought it used and spent a good amount of money to fix it up.  It looked good, it was fast, and it had been cheap.  She couldn't complain.  She took the stairs down to the underground garage, never having particularly trusted the elevator, and climbed into the two-seat vehicle.<br/><br/>Irina was careful not to flash anyone her lacy black thong as she swung her legs out of the low side of her car and stood.  She handed the ignition control to the valet, then headed towards the entrance.  She seemed to almost glide, her hips swaying slightly, and drew several glances as she walked through the entrance and into the noisy interior of the club.<br/><br/>The loud thrum of the music brought a smile to Irina's lips.  The movement of the bodies on the dance floor.  The sound of conversations both loud and quiet.  She felt at home here.  She scanned the room, then, having decided there was no immediate threat, headed for the bar.  She didn't want to look too needy, so it wouldn't do to immediate go searching for her contact.  First she would order a drink, and wait to see if he would come to her.<br/>