She changes and gets ready for her last client of her shift.

She returns to the bar in her color-changing dress but finds it populated with many people and grumbles. Too many people for her taste. She goes to the staff room and catches her breath there.

Glimmer groans and lays facedown on a table. One more client left, and she could go home and get this stupid shift over. The door opens, and she sits up straight, not wanting anyone to see her tired. A guard walks in and recognizes him quickly.

“Hey, there’s nothing to guard over here, you know?”

The guard smiles and yawns before he stretches. His broad shoulders arching out like a body-builders. This guy was enormous, as in Terminator-sized! Glimmer watched him with a slight look of amusement. She’d crushed over this guy for a while but found out he wasn’t just married but had two kids. And she was no homewrecker.

“Staff room,” he says through a long yawn. “Just a quick five before the next batch of morons come busting in and spilling another drink on the wrong rich kid. Enough about me, though. How’s your night going?”

“Paul… I just got done dealing with Janet,” Glimmer scoffs, shaking her head with a slight smirk. “That woman puts most of my other clients to shame in terms of kinkiness.”

Paul gasps playfully. “The full-on dominatrix office bitch?”

Glimmer snaps her fingers. “Yes! That one! Ugh… I don’t know… sometimes I think… Do people like this? Sometimes I wonder if I like it even.”

Paul makes a small face and nods slowly. “I… no… I don’t think I could EVER get into something like that. Couldn’t imagine if my wife ever offered that as an idea to spice up the experience in bed.”

Glimmer looks him over. “You’d probably break if she you hit with a riding crop.”

They both laugh and nod. Then, Paul sighs and stands up. “Actually, I am in here to talk to you about something… Don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with riding crops and begging.”

She regards him with a curious glance. “What is it?”

“You have one more client tonight, and--”

“John Doe?” She scowls. “Yeah, I saw it… What about it?”

Paul tilts his head from side to side. “We got a lot of new people coming in, and I couldn’t pull up a sheet about this guy. We always pull up sheets for the newbies to ensure they're not killers, but this guy was so average it seemed strange to me. So I just wanted to remind you that there are panic buttons inside the VIP rooms, or whatever it is you escort girls call them.”

Glimmer looks down and smirks. “We call them Pleasure Cubes, Paul.”

“Whatever,” he says. “You got any plans before ‘John Doe’ arrives?”

She shrugs. “Not unless another client pops in and fills the empty slot.”

“Not likely. The festival got us all hands on deck! Delilah, Miranda, Maple… Even Mikko and Flora.”

Glimmer laughs. “Make sure you don’t have Delilah and Maple together too long in one room, or they’ll be ripping each other’s throats out.”

Paul laughs. “They already got into a fight a little while ago over some particular guild-less contractor, but who knows?”

Glimmer shivers. Guildless Contractors… They paid well but often had tastes that were stranger to what they were worth unless in her history with them. When the quiet comes over them, she sees him looking at her. “What?”

He looks around the room and sits at her table, looking a little sad. “You ever going to quit doing this job, Glim?”

Internally, she sighed. She hated that question. “I don’t know. I get it’s not the ideal job, but it pays well, giving me a sense of control in this crazy city.”

He studies her before answering. “You know some good people could still get you out here, right? You don’t have to sell your body for those bills every day.”

Glimmer lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure. Because every good guy is lining up to help a stripper with a body like mine to get out of this industry. Look, I appreciate your concern, I really do… But you can’t understand what it’s like for someone like me… The stigma, the judgment! It’s hard to find a way out when you’re already at… rock fucking bottom.”

Silence builds, and she continues. “Not one of my fucking clients has looked at me today. Not one. And I wear all this fucking makeup.”

“Sorry,” Paul, realizing he’s made out awkward.

“It’s whatever,” Glimmer says. “I’ll… I’ll see you later tonight.”

He doesn’t say anything, and he leaves. Glimmer crosses her arms and wishes she hadn’t snapped at Paul like that. “Idiot,” she mutters, though she isn’t if she means herself or the guard.