nox-alatus

You slid down the cold metallic pole. The music faded, and the stuffy, dark room erupted into cheers, catcalls and whistles. Immediately, you turned a heel and concealed yourself behind the thick curtains as the next performers strutted their way out. The choreographer, the sweet little ginger, Petra Ral, clasped her hands in delight, as your boss naturally looked unimpressed as usual. “Perfect!” she cheered, grabbing your shoulders with a bright smile. “You performed yet another flawless routine!” You chuckled and sipped the water from your container. “Thanks a lot. They seemed to like it okay.” Your bo