Clarissa goes to the club

After she finishes her meager meal, Clarissa dresses herself in a sleeveless white blouse and black jeans. She then brushes her long brown hair and tie it in a ponytail. Clarissa finishes her look with a stylish black mask that covers her mouth and nose, hiding her identity. Once she sprays some cheap perfume on herself, she then grabs her wallet and her purse, before putting on a pair of black boots. Clarissa is finally ready to leave the house, and she says goodbye to Midnight the cat. Some boring short trip later in the shuttle, being surrounded by the commuters who had just got off work, Clarissa finally arrives at the nightclub called Demon's Lair.

The sight of the neon sign lighting up the place along with the loud music pumping from the inside of the nightclub makes her remember the times when she was a teenager, sneaking into a club for the first time, and doing other illegal shits in the name of youthful rebellion. Alas, that was nearly a decade ago, and she's no longer a teenager still oblivious to the harsh reality of the world. Trying to dismiss any sense of nostalgia, Clarissa walks up towards the entrance. She does not bother to line up, instead she saunters towards the bouncers at the entrance as she flashes her ID to them. They are eyeing her up and down, taking a specially long time to ogle at her breasts, covered as they are. The bouncers ultimately let her in, much to the annoyance of the people around them. Clarissa smirks as the people on the line groaned in protest, but hey, when you are this gorgeous, it pays to have perks. She hates to admit it, but Clarissa knows that her big breasts can be useful sometimes, and she's not afraid to flaunt it to get what she wants if needed.

As soon as Clarissa steps inside, the loud electronic music is ringing in her ears and blinding lights are filling her vision. The stench of ****, sweat, and cigarettes also hit her nostrils strongly even though she is already wearing a mask, making her scrunching her nose. Worse still, there's also the stench of semen coming from the corners, where couples are fucking without any shred of decency, right in the open. People surrounding them either don't care or they are watching the obscene acts as if it's some kind of porn show. One girl is sitting on some dude's lap, her skirt flipped up to expose the fact that she is not wearing any underwear. The dude fondles her breast with one hand while his other hand is busy fingering her pussy. His dick is jammed right up onto her ass crack, but it is covered by her skirt, thus hiding it from view. Right beside them, another man is vigorously pounding into a woman who's on all fours, her tits and ass bouncing wildly with each thrust. Their moans and grunts are masked by the loud music.

Clarissa shakes her head and pushes herself through the sea of drunken people to find a relatively quiet spot where she can observe things better. With her back against the wall, Clarissa crosses her arms as she watches the people go about their business. At the center of the dance floor, there are a lot of people grinding their bodies together, moving their hips in sync with the music. On the corners... well, there are still those people who are being intimate with one another. On the tables and sofas, Clarissa can see people snorting coke and enjoying all sort of party ****, some also getting intimate with each other. Then there's the bar counter, and from this vantage point, she can see a group of men and women cheering one another as they gulp down shots after shots of liquor. And finally on the front stage, there are several girls wearing erotic mockery of various costumes, such as a nurse or a cop, dancing erotically to the beat while swinging and holding on a pole. Clarissa can tell that they are professionals because they are twirling, twisting, and turning around the pole with practiced ease.

All in all, Clarissa sees nothing wrong with this place. It's a filthy and degenerate club with **** and sex abound, and yet that's precisely the appeal to this kind of nightclubs these days. Most patrons are just horny youngsters looking for a good time, and maybe they will get lucky by hooking up with one of the other patrons. So far, Clarissa has not yet seen the strange things that Dean mentioned in the job description.

"What a shithole," Clarissa curses under her breath, "but it's just like any other nightclubs. Dean specifically mentioned about a previously prude girl suddenly working as a pole dancer, but looking at all of those currently up on the stage, they are all professional strippers, not regular folks. I mean, just look at all those moves..."

The girls on the stage are putting on quite the erotic show, and all of them are excelling at it. There are no amateurish performances, it's all gracefully choreographed and they all know how to bait the audience well. Just look at how they are strutting around the stage in their high heels, gyrating their hips, shaking their breasts, bending over for the male patrons who are standing close by to give them a generous view of their butt cheeks...

Clarissa shakes her head, trying to keep those dirty thoughts out of her mind. Despite all of her training, it is hard not to get distracted by the blatant display of lewdness surrounding her. All of these people are partying hard and getting their rocks off, and yet she is the only one sober in this whole place. She sighs, and decides to just end her scouting for the night. In a few days she'll go back here as one of the newly hired employees, and hopefully she can learn something from the inside.

When she starts walking towards the exit, however, Clarissa can see a troubling scene unfolding before her eyes. A girl who appears to be in her twenties is stumbling around drunkenly, slurring as she tries to speak to a fellow male patron that's standing beside her. The man grabs her upper arms, but she pushes him away and turns around, accidentally bumping into Clarissa. The two of them lock eyes, and Clarissa notices that she's in a distress, her beautiful face contorted in fear.

"Hey, what's going on?" Clarissa asks her.

"H-help me..."

The girl speaks too soft to be heard through the loud music, but Clarissa can read her lips. After saying that, the girl suddenly drops to the floor, losing her consciousness. The guy who was speaking to her earlier suddenly scoops her limp body onto his arms.

"Whoopsie, looks like my girlfriend took more than she could handle," he says with a laugh, "I'm going to take her to the resting room in the back so she can sleep it off, thanks for your help!"

Before Clarissa can react, the man quickly walks away with the girl on his arms and disappears among the crowds. Clarissa tries her best to track the man, waddling through the crowd, until she sees him entering a backroom labeled 'Employees Only'.

"Oh boy, if I get caught going inside that room then I'm pretty much dead meat," she thinks to herself, "but I also can't just pretend nothing happened. Shit..."

Normally, Clarissa will just chalk the incident off as an unfortunate victim of roofies, but there's just something in her gut telling her to follow the man. Besides, the pigs would not contact a mercenary organization like Dean's to just deal with girls being **** up and ****, there's gotta be more to it. There is only one security guard stationed outside of that door, and he's busy chatting with a cute waitress. Thus it's easy for Clarissa to sneak through without anyone noticing. After making sure that no one is looking her way, she pulls the door and steps inside.