The Nightclub, 'Temptation'...

A scantily-clad girl marches out of the back entrance of the nightclub, shouting following her. She seemed to be carrying a handbag and pile of clothes. You watch from behind the dumpster as she leaves the alleyway, tears falling down her face. A short, middle-aged man tries to follow her, leaving the club as she gets out of sight.

"Fuckin' whore..." He mutters, placing his hands on the back of his head with a stressed look on his face. The man shakes his head. "I can't believe that bitch left like that!"

You step out from behind the dumpster and tread slowly towards him. "Uh... you alright there? I heard shouting."

The man looks you up and down. "O-oh, hello. No, it's fine. One of my girls just walked out last second when she was supposed to be doing a private dance. Admittedly, the guy does get hands-on with other girls but still, I wish she gave me some kinda warning... Oh. Sorry, I shouldn't be sharing my clients' personal info with someone like you."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry..." You apologise, unsure of how to react.

"It's fine... I guess you just have one of those faces, you know what I mean?"

Feeling an awkward tension set in, you nod. He chuckles and apologises, disappearing through the nightclub doors. The door was left ajar.

Sneakily, you creep in. The smell of booze and cigarette smoke was quite abundant in the air. The music was incredibly loud, the beat almost synchronised with your heart. The walls were black and pink, the occasional lewd image being hung on the wall.

Walking through a doorway to the side of the hallway, you can hear quiet gossiping. Towards the back end of the wall was a line of counters and mirrors, each being used by a different woman. They were exotically dressed, some wearing more elaborate outfits, but most wore a lacy bra, a lacy thong and some stripper heels. They didn't seem to care about their clothes, or lack of, instead talking about their past experiences with various customers. You felt out of your depth.